We are hurting
We are dying
For a new blues
One that doesn’t rhyme
With worn-out shoes
We are hurting
We are dying
For a neo blues
More than an inverted pyramid
Something to push against
To get to the evidence
Inside us
Forget the applause machine
Forget the corporate lotto
Forget he alchemist’s gold scheme
And you can ditto
The sphinx’s motto
We are hurting
We are dying
For a nouveau blues
To underline
What’s left behind
Forget the Nazi doll
Designed in Detroit
And made in Beijing
Forget about this
Contagious computer virus
Travelling up the Tigris
Forget Batman
In this postmodern
A new shade of blue
One hundred hues
Down from the stratosphere
Up from the
Red Sea
A hell of a journey
We are hurting
We are dying
For a brand-new Blues

 As an american, i feel so  lucky to have the rights that i have, and i feel like i can change the world. but has not been the case for everyone, and will never be. During times like the Holocaust, and now with the darfur genocide, i cant help think about the people who are “dying for a brand-new blues.” they want change, and there to be a different “blues.” Especially now as a registered voter, i know that i myself can change things. that is why it is important to be informed on these topics, and be able to change your blues. You can help someone change theirs by standing up and changing your own.


February 12, 2008

standard.jpgCamouflaging the Chimera 

We tied branches to our helmets.
We painted our faces & rifles
with mud from a riverbank,
blades of grass hung from the pockets
of our tiger suits. We wove                                                             pray.jpg
ourselves into the terrain,
content to be a hummingbird’s target.

We hugged bamboo & leaned
against a breeze off the river,
slow-dragging with ghosts

from Saigon to Bangkok,
with women left in doorways
reaching in from
We aimed at dark-hearted songbirds.
In our way station of shadows
rock apes tried to blow our cover
throwing stones at the sunset. Chameleons

crawled our spines, changing from day
to night: green to gold,
gold to black. But we waited
till the moon touched metal,

till something almost broke
inside us. VC struggled
with the hillside, like black silk

wrestling iron through grass.
We weren’t there. The river ran
through our bones. Small animals took refuge
against our bodies; we held our breath,

ready to spring the L-shaped
ambush, as a world revolved
under each man’s eyelid.

A Chimera is an imaginary grotesque monster, and it is what is trying to be hidden in this poem. When i read this poem, i got a mental image of war, and the soliders fighting it, and Komunyakaa served in vietnam. so it makes the poem that much more personal

” We wove ourselves into the terrain, content to be a hummingbird’s target” i can picture men in camoflauge, trying to hide from the small bullets that will come from the enemy lines. is this how the soliders feel who are fighting now? you can feel the tension as Yusef depicts this scene of war.

as a world revolved
under each man’s eyelid.”  the man seems to be praying, and seeing his entire life flashing before him, because he does not know what is going to happen in the next seconds. this uncertainty is something everyone feels. what is going to happen next?