African Rhythms

1.

Jumping on strings
bending time,
they created blissful futures;
stripping metaphors and similes,
making realities clear.
With palms facing skies,
they praised Jesus:
stamping,
speaking in tongues,
they revived ancestries;
smiling under suns,
on toes,
on soles,
on heels.

2.

Beating drums,

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poem by Buxton Shippy
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Cell - 2

The cell is the only sanctuary
he will worship in.
He broke the law and got caught.
That's the only difference between us;
he got caught.

Condemnation scarred even his heart.
Society says that's what he deserved.
But He says, you are free.
How could this be?
After meal the locks click everyday.
So how could I be free?
He says 'believe in Me and you'll see'.

I don't understand this,
so I shared it with a friend.
At first, he thought I was joking
or maybe it was what I was smoking.
But I could not stop thinking:
how could I be free?

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poem by Buxton Shippy
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Architectural Thesis

There is a place
Dark and light
Visible and invisible
Where people come
Come to find themselves

Within this place are places
Formed by convoluted
And woven paths
Slippery and disappearing walls
Elements
Static
Moving
Freestanding and projecting
Where the senses are mixed
And in turmoil
Within this place are places
In the paths
In the ceilings
In the walls

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poem by Buxton Shippy
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Hunger

Your stomach stretched thin
Your rib cage pronounced
A bewildered gaze tell your story
Where are your parents?
Where are your friends?
You are dying from hunger
And there are no outstretched hands

You were dealt losing cards
Although you played to win
Some will say it's because you sin

On your back you lay
Hands on belly
Dead but breathing still

What type of life you lived?
Have you ever smiled?
Ever laughed uncontrollably
Because you were filled with joy?

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poem by Buxton Shippy
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Money

Money money money
Everybody wants some
No money church can't run
Money for this
Money for that
No life without it
Can't sleep
She says hell
In this house
If she don't get it!

Before you get paid
Taxman grab it
Buy something
He grab it again
When money pressure hit
You cannot afford to get sick
Doctors want some
And if you dead without it
You will not be buried

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poem by Buxton Shippy
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Heart

Man's heart is wicked
And bitter
How can he hurt a child
And smile
The pain he causes never leave you
Even in your golden years

On his hands
He has the blood of the innocents
He rapes women and children
And his heart does not quiver

He retains the wages of his workers
He blames the poor for their plight
What makes your conscience dormant,
Your countenance filled with rage?
Eyes without a flicker

From whence you came?
Who is your originator?

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poem by Buxton Shippy
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O Jamaica

O Jamaica
How I missed you
Your easy gait
Mangoes and pears
I left your majestic hills
And clean sea breeze
Songs of the humming birds
Dub poets
And breadfruit trees

O Jamaica
I missed your reggae rythms
Bungo sounds
And Natty
I left for a land I knew not
A land of plenty
Was it for wealth?
Was it for pride?
No!
For knowledge, maybe

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poem by Buxton Shippy
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