Archive for August, 2020
singing a tired refrain again…
The brown bag prophet for president!
the city’s
opened up some
so
streets
have begun
to
be re-inhabited
by
dreamers
and
shadow people
when
i saw
the brown bag prophet
he seemed
none the worst
for
the wear
when
i asked
about
his being
he replied
nothing
has changed
myths of freedom
still
circulate
among
the masses
who’ve
ignored
the history
of
america
they continue
to
sing refrains
sung
since enslavement
one more river to cross
or
to let my people go
as if
one more compromise
or
prayer
will
make
a difference
son
the one thing
i’ve learned
in
this life
is
enslavement
never ended
nor
was
it intended
to
end
subjugation
of
people of color
has been
and
continues
to be
codified
in the actions
and
laws
of
the nation
but
we keep singing
freedom songs
as if
the words
are
some magical incantation
but
child
my father’s
father
sang
those songs
so
i…
View original post 12 more words
behavioral modification…
the names
of
their true
gods
adorn
their bumper stickers
embossed
with
their
mindless mantras
those
carefully contrived
scriptures
from
an ad agency
after being
thoroughly
researched
by
behavioral scientists
and
predicted
to be
on par
with
the gospel
convincing
even
saints
to vote
for
the devil
sleepless lambs…
This country is not was it was. We, you and me need to get on the track it was on.
caged lambs
wool soaked
with urine
from
the holding pens
shivering
frightened
grasping
for
one breath
of
the promised
freedom
from
oppression
not
this
slaughter house
of
innocent souls
but
now
it’s
lights out
at
the border
detention center
a flag’s silhouettes of death…
I love this poet’s incite and work.
you
demanded
that
i
stand for the flag
while
insisting
i should fall
at
your feet
whenever you
offer
some morsel
of
freedom
but
it was my family
that paid
in
blood
for the wealth
of
this nation
we have been
enslaved
beaten
degraded
and
murdered
for
centuries
without
cessation
of
violence
against us
for all
of
those years
and
yet
you pretend
to be
offended
when
anyone
questions
why
gratitude
should be shown
for
a history
of
barbarism
you are dying…
just outside
the glow
of
life’s street lamp
death
lingers
like
a gaseous shadow
merging
with
night’s fog
floating
like
waves
into view
then
receding
into
the darkness
as if
reminding
us
of
its presence
for all too often
we deny
that
death
is near
and
that
we
are close
to
extinction
when saints dance with devils …
the chamber’s littered
with charred bones and melted gold
wealth of the nation
abstracted from its people
solely for a few’s pleasure
but fools won’t complain
they believe their battles won
but the gold’s been cast
into their final death masks
poured over their moral souls
stealing their last breath
branding their souls with their greed
leaving sunken eyes
empty of tomorrow’s hope
like rats on a sinking ship
as death approaches…
Let us hope this is not the future.
having difficulty recalling
the names
of
friends
unable to
discern critical issues
that
must be addressed
for
personal welfare
leaves mail
unattended
hoping
payment
can be avoided
blurred vision
unable
to
see clearly
what’s all around
increased confusion
and
reduced concentration
so
unable to do everyday tasks
continually talks
about
the past
but
cannot recall
the real events
fantasizes
leaving out
what was
wrong
keeps saying
wants things to be
like
that fantasized world
but
the world cannot
return to
what
never was
so
making
a dying
nation
great again
is not
possible
resurrectionists…
A sign of the times. That does not make it correct.
even as
we
bury countless dead
practitioners
under the cover
of
the pandemic’s darkness
have
begun quietly
to
steal artifacts
and
personal effects
of
corpus juris
most
of
these robbers
do so
for
profit
others
are
power’s cannibals
seeking
to
eat the flesh
of
freedom
whatever
their motivation
one must
question their morality
and
allegiance
to
the land
where
they’ve
soiled
their hands
no good deed…
grew up
in
small
midwestern town
surrounded
by
liberal friends
and
family
so
almost
forgot
i
was
black
but
couldn’t avoid
cultivated racism
even
when
protecting
a poor white friend
with
polio
as
he dragged
one foot
being
taunted
by
neighborhood bullies
he decided
to
side
with
his white tormentors
when
they challenged
his
whiteness
he chose
to
turn on me
that’s
how deeply
slavery’s caste system
has been
embedded
in
the social fabric
of
the consciousness
of
even children
lesson
learned
even
after
a
red hot branding iron
loses
it’s
visible signs
of
danger
it
can
sear
the flesh
burning
into
the days
that
follow
an old cottonwood…
What a great expression of an all too true reality.
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