The Anti-Authoritarian Call and Response: Poems by Synnika Alek-Chizoba Lofton
NOVEMBER 2025
Medium Sized Coffee with a Side of Mississippi Resistance
10:30 a.m. I scramble across
metallic jungle, leaving behind
social dysfunction and the
breaths of politicians, screaming
about freedom. I surface to
examine the machine because
wounded birds don’t sing. They
screech. Tall, vintage tables.
Mahogany countertops wink.
Perfect blend. Cautious.
Reading about Medgar Evers
driving across the Mississippi
Delta, foot on the gas, pistol
on the passenger’s seat. City
life hovers on another humid
summer in July. Liberation cannot
be achieved through legislation
and drum circles. The government
snarls. Can’t be trusted. Cages
break. I unravel chains, while
watching a homeless Black man
hustle his way into the coffee shop
and order a tall latte. “With low
fat milk and extra cinnamon,”
he says. A British accent hangs
on his lips. This urban suite
swings. Badu croons. Glasper
smiles and develops the melody.
Surreal. I craft my yawp. Like
a thief, a Norfolk wind slips
through a cracked door.
---
James Baldwin’s Smile
To be American is daddy’s bluesy
story, is hunger, is a stomach pang,
pulsing against empty creed. Freedom
is like this sometimes. To be American
is to encourage electric Black roses
to wiggle through the cracks of ash
gray pavement, like Jimi Hendrix
plucking his hungry Olympic White
Fender Stratocaster at Woodstock,
1968. Running down the Star Strangle
Banner with rage, with precision.
To be American is to dance in the
margins of liberation, sidestepping
traditional definitions, values, making
Conservatives frown, tilt chipped crowns.
Freedom is like this sometimes. To be
American is complicated. A sunset
leaning on the body of a 1984, royal
purple Chevy Impala. Doors outstretched.
Pristine. No worries. All muscle. All gas.
All grind. Even though them demons
laugh. I adjust earbuds and turn up
the volume on long drives. Interstate 64
is a snake-like beast. I ignore the fat cats,
constructing boxes, toxifying language,
and walking upright on trotters. Them
three-piece suits and power ties push
back against wild summer wind.
Sinister sunlight dips again. Dystopia
giggles. The machine operates normally.
Flawed DNA. Flawed design. Freedom
is like this sometimes. To be American
is momma’s bluesy hope, is hunger,
is a stomach pang, pulsing against
empty creed. To be American requires
skepticism and a Baldwin-like smile.
---
11/4/2025
Synnika Alek-Chizoba Lofton is an award-winning poet, educator, Pushcart Prize nominee, and publisher. Lofton is the author of more than thirty-five collections of poetry and more than one-hundred and seventy spoken word albums. His poems have appeared in Clock House Journal, Revenge, UpStreet, Experience Reality Magazine, Quay, Dissident Voice, The Skinny Poetry Journal, Mid-Atlantic Review, and Blue-Collar Review. He earned both a B.A. in Creative Writing and an M.F.A. in Creative Writing from Goddard College. He has held teaching positions at Chesapeake Bay Academy, Norfolk State University, Virginia Wesleyan University, and Elizabeth City State University.
