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  Mar 2015 Fah
Maya Angelou
You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.

Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don't you take it awful hard
'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines
Diggin' in my own back yard.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may **** me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I'll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I've got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history's shame
I rise
Up from a past that's rooted in pain
I rise
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.
  Mar 2015 Fah
Maya Angelou
A free bird leaps on the back
Of the wind and floats downstream
Till the current ends and dips his wing
In the orange suns rays
And dares to claim the sky.

But a BIRD that stalks down his narrow cage
Can seldom see through his bars of rage
His wings are clipped and his feet are tied
So he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings with a fearful trill
Of things unknown but longed for still
And his tune is heard on the distant hill for
The caged bird sings of freedom.

The free bird thinks of another breeze
And the trade winds soft through
The sighing trees
And the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright
Lawn and he names the sky his own.

But a caged BIRD stands on the grave of dreams
His shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
His wings are clipped and his feet are tied
So he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings with
A fearful trill of things unknown
But longed for still and his
Tune is heard on the distant hill
For the caged bird sings of freedom.
Fah Mar 2015
Come back , flow out
humble me and humble me again till
I am worn
smooth
and round.
Fah Feb 2015
Responsibility is so rare in those who leak their oily fingers across rivers and into bloodstreams, toxic waste never tasted as good as refined sugars.

Some people find themselves desperate.
That’s what happens when the community is run on decision
fueled by fear.
It murders the capacity to react
whilst exposing all of the soft, fleshy bits that constitute a human.

Oh yes,
split dinosaur bones and acid poured on a young woman’s face in North London are connected.
Lacerations of the largest mine in the world cut across the face of earth like another young woman who could not pay a sufficient dowry.
Oh yes those two events are connected.

To the men who sign the papers or wield the knife or pour the acid your payment is also desolation
your eyes will also be blinded and your face scared,
the trauma will live on inside of you as you see earth mother dug out,
kilo by kilo

You have silenced the very thing that makes you alive.
Oh yes.

The current schooling system of sit down, ask permission, don’t be late or I will hurt you in some way is connected to those men and their disassociation with their humanity.

It is connected to the women who can not love themselves and apologize for every moment of their existence not in words but in actions and not in actions but beliefs and not in beliefs but in pure, boiling hatred of being a woman because since the time of classic antiquity men have been hating the mother.

Oh yes,
the sugar and chemicals added to our diets combined with pharmaceutical money oriented ideology
year after year
are connected with every case of suicide, every act of homicide every police brutality every bill passed by a man who thinks the womb can be accessed through the stomach.

These events that are the cornerstones of our current society
hold a space that allows and encourages the greediest, meanest
most scheming parts of us to surface, dusted in powdered sugar and sing hallelujah.

It relies on the desensitized laziness of ourselves, it relies on us to keep on believing.

A red string ties these events together and they are destined to meet again and again in livingrooms and in courtrooms, boardrooms and massacres, rapes and violent deaths
At the hands of each other until we stop murdering our own humanity for the sake of an award, the sake of being accepted.

We all have Stockholm’s syndrome.

These institutions and companies are not friends, our captors in the forms of insensitive executions or laws against one another are not our saviors
The people who are making decisions over vast swathes of mother earth land are not our gods who wish to give us sunshine seen on the side of a truck advertisement.

But it may just be our saving grace
our empathy and compassion
fuel to our desires of seeing the world left to future generations
with some dignity
love the mistakes we've made as humans, thank them
for their teachings
and evolve.


These are the strings that bind us together.
( And you think you are not important? You think you make no difference? We are hand cranking the wheels of time over here .)
Fah Feb 2015
*
I sit in fullness
When I sit in stillness
The way is unobscured.
  Feb 2015 Fah
Pablo Picasso
some balding angels weave together the soldiers
of god the work of a spider the star of despair
local insects, tennis players in
spite of the nets in spite of
the insolent blue which limits us
which nonetheless continues to charm the readers
of english magazines
  Feb 2015 Fah
Pablo Picasso
bleached
beneath
a 10 kilowatt
moon
anticipating
geometry
the smell
of soap
that same
instant
calling into
question
bisexuality
without flesh
or
the vibration
of blood
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