My plot, my rules
Well-come, please be my guess
Plant the seeds of your fragility
Grow the ground of kaleidoscopic privileges
At the intersections of colour(blind)
Lines of unequal blooming seasons
(De)compost your dirty preconceptions
Be muddy for a little wild at the margin of my plot
Welcome, please be my guest
Step into the Other’s boots
For a there and then of possibilitieS
The grass is green here and their
Matters in perspective(S)
Distant Bee gathering
Bilingual cacophonic reparation, (growing) reparation, (echo) reparation!
Sexualized cross-pollination
Sucks toxic universal poppies
To feed Queen’s Seeds’ desire
For sterile hybridised selves
Able to live but not to be
Meant to feed but not to conceive
Fluid binarism that tic toc tick at
Each extreme of a porous Black skin
Being that ceased to beat
Holding their breath before your gaze
Exotic flower from a foreign island
Quick time is tic toc ticking, be-fore you fade
Creolization, dark rhythm provider
Persistent odour of (dis)integration, (de)construction, (trans)formation
Some smells like shit while Others perfume their streets
Those are some of the ismS at play in the garden-grabbing game
Smokey adaptation in a time of crisis
Biodiverse disruptions of your monochromatic cultivation
To feed my urban cultural (re)appropriation
My secret garden is a community that starts with us
Do you feel them?
At/from the marginS
Do you feel them?
Once upon a time, one at a time
Do you feel them?
Pass the fork, step back, and be my gues(s/t)
Do you feel me now?