I shall not pass,
For I do not look like them.
I shall not want,
For I am not worthy of having.
I was made by your hands,
But the men of distant lands deem me worthless.
Teach your children to be kind,
My skin burns from their vengeful whips.
Black lives matter
Not a war cry, but a plea
An affirmation, united nation
A cry of passion and a
call to action
The coming together
All lives matter--or rather--
White lives matter
When the police say, please
Put the gun down, cease!
As our brothers and sisters lie deceased
In the streets
With their murders captured, viral, shared
Not a human, but a piece of meat
The enemy of the people
The enemies of "we"
Sit high upon their thrones
Dictating laws for you
They tell us we are free
While they force us to our knees
Our enemy is not beside but
The persons above, who reside
"They" "the man" "big brother" "the suits"
Obama, Trump, Clinton--Bernie Sanders, too
United we stand, united "they" fall
And perhaps, on that day, we can say "all"
But for now
Black Lives Matter
To fight is our choice
The power is in the people and
Our collective voice
Stand together, make things better
And hear humanity rejoice
Such an ambiguous permutation
So many copies of original creation
Mandatory man-made metaphysics are molding our minds
Are they repentant?
It's all dependent on the message we're sending
On encompassing everyone
Mixing and blending
All distinctive hues
Many shades impending
Of vibrant black and blues
The injured ones of course
Should always get to choose
Forever have had a voice
And perpetually sing the blues
That mundane drip is so torturous.
The end is inevitable,
Is it not beautiful?
With death comes life.
After ever winter
comes a spring.
Our expiration is approaching.
Drip drop goes the clock,
slowly ebbing away at our existence.
As humanity slowly wears away into nothingness,
we pray to any available deity,
for more wind-chill,
for one drip longer.
We are all destined to die.
We just hope
To leave more of an impression
than an inevitable puddle
destined to wash away
when tomorrow comes.
Sins are often forgotten.
Brain molecules are overwritten,
cell pathways erased,
as good conquers evil.
The righteous actions that ignite enlightenment
and solace for the sins we can't remember
are also eventually forgotten,
because evil also devours virtue
in what priests and monks refer to
as an ancient and everlasting battle.
Some people live out their lives in solitude.
We see them in quiet jobs,
alone in libraries and coffee shops.
They patiently wait out the battle
for the day when the struggle ends
and they finally know tranquility
Others choose action,
to play their roles as instruments, weapons,
sometimes for the forces of good
and sometimes for the forces of evil.
I’ve chosen to add my flavor of mayhem to the world,
inspired in forgotten nightmares
and during quiet car rides home
after the job has drained the last drops
of energy and self-respect.
Without the battle
humanity certainly would be boring.
Unfortunately for all of us
nothing is quite so dull
Advocate for the world around us,
We are the only things left,
to hear our voices heard,
but the throats of our souls left parched.
I can only sit back and bask in privilege,
while i'm encased in invisible shackles,
and the person to my right, chained to me as well but just blissfully unaware.
We are together in mind
a connection, but it is lost because there is no Wifi.
We are together physically
a presence, that is unseen because the daily zombie grind pushes on.
We are together spiritually,
a thread, that is closed because we don't see a human.
And as the veil stays while we sip our Starbucks latte,
could you imagine if the curtain fell?
The pain rushes forward, and a suffering of another is felt.
The world we have lived in isn't what we are living for,
but designed for us, and it hides the suffering in a department store.
The theatrics is over now,
It's time to close up the play, remove the backdrops and settings,
see each others life in a new way.
Pulling back the curtain to see more is a hard thing to grasp,
because you're pushed from your comfort zone,
to see who we truly are.
I hope you like it.
Life is a strange interpretation
of mud, blood, and vexation.
Where logic fails, reason takes a vacation.
Perception is the only tool we find to measure
memories we hold as sacred treasures.
Till, those transcribed are passed down
and every generations finds their own variation
played on the same theme.
But one day annihilation will take away
the strength we lost and gained
along the road of ever evolving years
and we strays will part ways
with all of reality.