Saturday, February 8, 2014

CLOCKING HOURS / The Awakening

Toni Barca

Toni Barca was born in Paris, France. Her father ran guns in Ghana, Africa, and held the country's
currency in her bedroom, when she was 3 years old. By the time she was fourteen, she'd traveled the world, played backgammon on junks in Hong Kong with movie stars and drug lords. She was nineteen when her father left hustling films, and became a world financier.


There is a fire in mind.
A wound never cauterized.
A sense of touching life
with fingertips
reaching for it barely grazing the surface.

I can see why people, some people,
make life and death decisions.
Why it's all drama.
For those where a good job,
a car and kids just won't feed.
Money only a tool,
& not the God we slave for.

Suburban thoughts are that gang bangers are not well,
that their choices are stemmed from poor environments.

I've heard of wealthy housewives
becoming hookers by day just to alleviate
the sense of doom,
a life never claimed
Rich kids stealing cars and taking drugs just to
taste life's tongue-

Businessmen eating pussy at lunchtime
bending a secretary over their desk
while they talk to their wife or better still their boss on
the speakerphone-
Little moments of larceny,
stealing only from one's self.
When in fact,
to leave to go to Mexico in a jeep
with a gun, some money & a passport
Would be the 1st step to hand gliding-
Because even robbing a bank can be interesting,
even to experience that
would be more of a life,
than to get up one more time
go to work…
And make believe that you give a shit whether that project gets done.

The Awakening

I am not without compassion for I have walked the dark
forest of men's subconscious.

I have seen fear
in the eyes of men who were called warriors and I have heard the battle cry
rise from women filled with the seed of life.

I know what it is to believe in the impossible.
I have lived million of lifetimes; I remember none and
yet their breaths tickle the back of my neck
and I shiver.

I know the unspoken knowing.

I feel the beginning of my awakening. I am not self-realized,
not yet.
But I rub the sleep from my eyes. I yawn. I reach
for the scrolls of ancient wisdoms.

I will lie in bed and read till the sun sinks
behind a new dawn-

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