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 May 2015 Fah
Brycical
I am a cloud breaker
because the sun is always with me,
tattooed on my back.
Even at night I can see silver linings.

I am an earth shaker--
cackling, quaking laughs crack surfaces
above, and so below
of flesh and rock like lava's burning, gurgling grace.

I am a light maker.
Warm words spark & ignite dried, dusty leaves
forgotten or ignored,
clearing paths for new gardens to feast upon the sunlight.

I'm a flow waker,
building bridges of effervescent electric irrigation
with hugs between our eyes and hearts,
nourishing, cleansing bodies.
 May 2015 Fah
Olga Valerevna
It's possible to be aware of nothing anymore
and let yourself walk freely through the human you adorn

the sky provides for everything to grow and weather all
but people who uproot themselves can never take the fall

I see them lying everywhere, in piles and in droves
collecting like a breath of air inside a cloud of smoke

and every day they breathe their last, as least that's what they say
because of your anatomy you cannot walk away

So here you are a seventh time forgetting who you be
and every single chance you've had to faithfully believe
every single cell in our skeleton is replaced every 7 years
 May 2015 Fah
Brycical
nearly 200 years ago
which means my genetics have directly contributed
to the current system
that continues thrusting knees on the throats
of an entire race of brothers and sisters.  

Sick knots of frustration churn in my stomach
while fist and eyelids clench tight
burning razor tears slowly trickling down my face
at the very idea one of my ancestors--
part of my DNA
once treated a living, breathing woman of color
like a permanent maid meant only to labor inside and outside.  

I'm sharing this to admit and reveal my family's
complacency in a system
continuing to reap the so-called benefits
from a capitalist mindset
that has upgraded beyond physical cold metal shackles,
evolving into ball and chain conversation words
where people worry more about property damage from riots
instead of deaths at the hands of the fraternal order of timeout.  

I'm sharing this to continue conversations
for so long in America have been shuffled around, cast aside
as if it were an embarrassing high school phase
politely laughed away    
like on holidays when my family and I
would listen to grandparent's occasional choice phrases
that began "Well the blacks are just blah blah blah..."

Like a child caught ******* by parents,
our pale shame has made us bury the past below sea level
hoping nobody would notice.
But now, the skeletons are beginning to rise,
seeping through the ground  
along with fears of other dusty bones
buried under the red road.

Many of our ancestors
have been trying to dig deeper holes
with phrases like
"I don't understand, there was MLK and Honest Abe,
what more do
  they  want?"
ploughing ahead with fingers shoved in ears
singing "La la la let's just move on, it was a long time ago"
overlooking the equality and empathy  
that has been lacking up to the present.
Like two leaders could wave a magic wand overnight
erasing the dismissive dis-ease of white skinned superiority
we've been weaving into of our laws,
conditioning into our DNA,
evolving from slavery to segregation to target practice and tax brackets
despite singing "Land of the free"
even though there's a disparity
between rioters in inner cities  being called "thugs"
while rioters at sport events are "party goers."

The first step is acknowledgement,
unfortunately we can't force someone to understand,
but we can support and be there
for our brothers and sisters
with kind, encouraging words,
taking steps to pull out
of the land and people selling business,
instead investing in the new currency of presence and attention
unlike my ancestors.
almost 200 years ago.
Some say if you dig up the past, all you get is *****.

Tell that to archeologist constantly discovering new things or therapists guiding others through traumatic past events.
 Apr 2015 Fah
Alia C
Intertwined
 Apr 2015 Fah
Alia C
where did your eyes go
when my heart
decided to slip down
the sides of your veins.

where did your eyes go
when my nails raked your shoulders
in search of answers
to pointless questions
(was that all in vain?)

where did your eyes go?
for now there must only
be hollow sockets in their place
if you can’t see
the river that’s drowning
my fading face-

but even worse;

where did your tongue go
so that you don’t feel
the vile after-taste
of memories put to waste
when your skin
brushes her lip to
burn holes
through my brain.

And worst of All
-where did your hands go?

the emptiness of your fingertips
tickling my breath
now resonates as you trace
the curve of her hip
that mingles with mine
for we are not so different I and she
she
and
I
(strangely
inter
twined)
going through old stuff
 Apr 2015 Fah
kt mccurdy
touch me,
terribly
the way the bed bugs do.
through wiry holes in the springs. crawling.
mechanically.

go down like the sun, still hot
bothered
gnat bites in the armpits of the knees.
closer, closer they crawl towards
skinned palates
 Apr 2015 Fah
Penelopejayde
The upbringing of a person could lead to a frivolous publican.
A brother and sister are both witnessing the featherbrained fool.
This world we live in is a bit bamboozle

Escaping to a state of ecstasy with your purple kaleidoscope why don't we shape the future and use cinnamon soap.

With your undercoats it's an antidote for a hurtful situation
It's like we are burning in ice.
Your a magician but you can't stop stupid.

Adolescents knowing the need to finish yet they are taking over to much to cope.
So now they are discovering, considering, cinnamon soap.
My first poem
 Apr 2015 Fah
Francie Lynch
We are too much in the world
Of distant sirens, each one racing
To our homes.
The plume of smoke arrests me;
The shoe on the yellow-dotted line
I passed, wondering how one limps home,
Not noticing.
The other night I heard the empty thud
Of flesh and skin and then my cell was vibrating.
I have a message from South Carolina,
FB wants to befriend us;
Twitter assails us;
What's Ap pesters;
E-mail harasses.
We have more messaging orifices
Than a Bell operator,
And hearts beat faster with every siren,
Every baby's cry.
Night shades, ear plugs
And sensory deprivation
Will only heighten our anxiety.
We're kissing urns and spitting ashes.
Our connection falters.
A tip of the cap to W. Wordsworth, "The World is Too Much With Us."
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