we can invent kingdoms of our own grand purple thrones those chairs of lust love we must in beds of rust steel doors lock in prisoner s screams muzak am rocks their dreams no black men s pride to hoist the beams while mocking angels sift what seems to be a collage of magazine dust scratched on foreheads of walls of trust this is just jail for those who must get up in the morning fight for such unusable standards while weeping maidens show off penury pout ravings for a mad staff