The Kilimanjaro in the Savanah
"It's not what you are called, it's what you answer to," African proverb.
It's gonna take a lot to drag me away from you, There's nothing a million men or more could ever do, I bless the rains down...
-- Sexy ambiguous song.
-- But what does it mean?
I seek to cure what's deep inside, Frightened of this thing that I've become...
"It was written in ten minutes," it didn't matter who broke the silence... it was our conversation already underway. Us, watching TV, like when the song was written.
We were reclining on the loveseat. White skin over black, twist of arms. Our hands locked. Hair upon shoulders, in repose, for a moment. Our moment.
"White man's guilt. Kilimanjaro is the peak of greatness, nearly unsurpassable. The Serengeti the vast formable seeming empty, a plain with a miracle of life, in otherwise arid desert. We brought a Spiritual people down, to our level. The cradle of Civilization, and we've IMF'd them into sick orphan beggars. "
"Like maybe it's apology from artistic souls to... the continent? Heartache for bringing Religion, and contaminated Polio vaccine... Africa as a meter of our own social and cultural immunodeficiency. Faithlessness. A beautiful people nearly wasted in the outbreak of AIDS, stigmatized by color, by that black 'gay plague.' And this tumult was weighing on the conscience, emerging in the love lyrics..."
"The song came out in 1982. First thing that pops to mind in correlation is the Live Aid Concert."
"Did Toto play?"
"Dunno. That was 1985. The continent was drought stricken. A starving people, and they brought them music..."
"That's almost a beautiful thing... except could Africans hear it?"
"A show. Do you want a hit?"
"No, Is that it then? Africa ...waiting there... for a release? for a drug, a pharmaceutic? or the kindness of Lady death?"
"No sense waiting for the ladies, ha."
"Haha. Dave take your clothes."
"In a hurry to get out of here man?"
"Naw only... She's coming in, 12:30 flight... "
"Oh. yeah forgot."
Gonna take some time...
"Sure, I get it, I get it, no prob. Til next time."
"Yeah."
"Thanks."
It's gonna take a lot to drag me away from you...
There's nothing that a hundred men or more could ever do
I bless the rains down in Africa
Gonna take some time to do the things we never had
Hurry boy, she's waiting there for you...
2023 NOV 19
She adored proximity.
Ran across this piece of gold this morning. I don't think I've had the honor of reading this writer, well, not narrating this writer, at least not exclusively for a channel feature. I mean, I've been reading his work for years on Prose. Hard to believe I haven't featured him yet. This piece mixes two of my favorite things: Classical music and seduction, namely in a setting encased in art.
Here's a link to the video.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lQ2G1qLt7BE
And.
As always...
Thank you for being here.
-The Prose. team
Olympus
I hear the dust devils echoing tonight. The moons, Deimos and Phobos, hide the stars that sent me here to desolation. Mars is nothing where even a hundred men would ever go. There are no rains down in the plains of the Shield. Some wild xenobeasts cry out in the night as they grow cold, longing for sunrise. And hopefully, not for me.
I know that I must do what's right, as sure as Kilimanjaro on Earth rises like Olympus above the Tharsis Shield. I seek to cure the fright that's deep inside, the fright of what I am, that took me away from you — something a thousand men would never do.
I curse the arid ironscape, the new, improved WD-41. I miss the rains that never come. Olympus Mons calls to me, so I'm gonna take some time to do a thing I've never done. Something a million men would never do.
Mars taunts me: Hurry boy, Olympus is waiting there for you.
to the people who bought my childhood home,
there are raspberries growing under the living room window,
and a hamster buried in the garden,
and the third stair from the top used to have a stain that looked kind of like a dog,
before we replaced the carpet.
all this is to say,
this place is more mine than it will ever be yours,
and I still walk the rooms in my head before I fall asleep at night,
the scars on my body a road map to every sharp corner.