Disembodied Kneelings: Poems by Baraka Blue

And for a moment it was deeper than a feeling

And for a moment it was more like a knowing

And for a moment it was a circle completing

A healing

A disembodied kneeling on a purple evening

DISEMBODIED KNEELINGS
Selected Poetry By Baraka Blue

AN INTRODUCTION BY THE AUTHOR

I never wrote poems. I wrote raps. When I had a beat I wrote to that. When there was no beat I wrote to silence. When there was no pen I freestyled. If we had music we rapped to the music. If we had no music we made music by beating on trash cans, or park benches, or simply with our mouths.  If there were no trash cans, or mouths, I rapped to my heartbeat. I firmly believe that poetic language is meant to be heard and not simply read. When it is read it should be read aloud.

I never had much interest in poetry until I read Rumi. Shakespeare seemed too formal and foreign, others seemed too dry, pompous, or formulaic. Hip hop was life, essence, breath . . . raw, reality, struggle, energy. Not concerned with the conformities of grammar but more concerned with
expressing the depth of an emotion or the intensity of a feeling.

But it wasn’t until I read Mevlana Jalalu’ddin Rumi that I heard someone express the deepest feeling and the deepest emotion that a human being can ever feel and thus, can ever attempt to express; the yearning for the Divine Source . . . 

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