From the other shore arrive these bodies
Ready to face
without rivalries
Illusory bodies 
derisory bodies

These bodies are
                                        The new generation


Who came to carry those words
Which take shape in their worlds


I m the tale teller
To become with stories a healer



The sun gets gray - as the fire is ashes
Leaving me no choices
but to wait

I tried to close myself
I tried to exclude myself
To return particle to leave with no hate


I hear running under my flesh these waters
they are silenced - They are seas
And i'm running through these
bones
to come out as my tears
Between crackling where our flesh hear the sounds as a burden
Faced with the memories of our mothers who wish they had forgotten


I m attracted by the graveyard because heiress of so much tension
The pavement here –
is still my mansion

To decorate the tombs through all catacombs
While cherishing the wombs in all honeycombs
To pierce with roots for those whom I am burdened

Be fierce with truth for those whom I frightened

I patiently wait to be plant
And I'll go where - ghosts haunt
Because plantation they were and I will return
To tell them they were life - to maybe stop the burn

Fallon- F A 2 L O N plain little grain Not rhyming slain or pain
The air caught me and continues to drag me to the doomned
While the waters try to pull me on the other side - damned.


I would like to exist beyond all these choices
I would like to find something else that is not me
I would like here to stay
That's enough to say
I would like not to read the faces
and have power to offer new spaces
Because in my head haunt those images released
As see them on this shore begging to be releaved



























To Be. In.g black
To Not Being able to see
Forced to look at the mirror
To exist in a reflection
To exist as a reflection
So that they can shade themselves in the evening
Be aware of mirrors The spirits are watching
Reclaiming their time and their space
Their blood and their grace

Here black will not be color but will be state
Like a cyanophyte I would make the first step
if we can not be
it will be necessary
to transform – maybe



In revolt is glory
So we will begin to see
That Plants will grow - through the concrete
‘cause plants we are
And our leaves will go far
Planting - haunting – Without burying – Being


I am a taler of hope
and I came to tell you stories

Blood stories ; ranks stories ; hopes memories
For both the old and the young
To stretch further than visible
Refusing to be available


If the Nile starts in my blood
As red as a filament
as flexible as a firmament
My real name ain’t Victoria
I am a dried-up spring called Mayanja
With egypt it goes as reminder of truth
To arrive in my new land
To remind me what i have lend
An identity, A futurity
But i ll melt to become a memory


Now I speak to the sea
Because they keep talking to me about fantasy

About other worlds to be
but
who
who
who has the right to
but who has 
Using plants to inspire
and killing for an empire

‘cause there is no right without fight
I’ll give all my souls to see what we might
be
immortals of the invisible sea 

Mark Sonic healing A black archive texture