Some of us are older
And we remember a time
When being less than rich
Was not considered a crime
And dealt with Congressionally
By huge measures of stealth
Designed to take away rights
And relieve us of any wealth.

Some of us are older
And owning a home was not
Just a memory, and also
Was not just an empty lot
Where a house once stood
Before the owner got behind
And the bank ignored their pleas
As if they were all blind.

Some of us are older
And remember banks as friends
Who helped us with loans
Where good credit could begin.
We recall the days we could
Send our kids to university
And not saddle them with debt
That condemned them to poverty.

Some of us are older
And we remember the beat cop
Did more toward protection than
Murdering people at traffic stops.
We remember being told as kids
If you are in trouble find a cop
And old enough to have seen
The time that all began to stop.

Some of us are older
And we don’t recall seniors freezing,
Eating dog food alone in flats
And sitting in emergency rooms, wheezing
Because they can’t afford insurance
Because premiums were so high
And the insurance companies
Preferred that they just die.

Some of us are older
And we remember a country here
Where Christianity did not mean
Anti-black, anti-poor and anti-queer.
We remember you had to go
Down south to find hateful Christians
And it living life with dignity
Was not out of the question.

I stood apart with aloof dignity
A distant smile
He was upstage with strangers
Erudite I am with many
Downtrodden was never
Aloof for the school of accepted
Erudiate becomes obsolete

A Minds Library

There is a library in my mind
Books a million
Words a billion
Thoughts a trillion
Yet there is only one heart
One love
A single whisper
It calls to me
Your name {add it here}
Our life
A singularity of two
And this my love
Will always be you

Last night...
we danced in the rain
naked, not afraid
on moss
in a field
of flowers  
meeting in dreams
we ran
holding hands
eyes on each other
seeing your ****** length hair
moving wildly upon your breast
a calming effect
laughter
passion
our ghost
like gast
how long will the night last
thunder
what is the speed of lightning
slower than light
air
a breeze of breath
breathtaking beauty
you
us
together
dancing in the rain

I know how to recognize a desperate soul
    Wood for our fire
      To keep our family warm
        In winters cold
          What is the sacrifice
            Dear tree
              You captured the sun
                Drinking the rain
                  Roots deeply in soil
                    Mother earth
                     Ashes to dust
                        Cinders to rust
                           Reaching for heaven
                             Only to become
                               The god of fire

A good game needs rules and planning.
Nothing revels humanity so well as the games that play.
Actually you revel yourself best in how you play.
And so it became that.
A truism;
perhaps we are not that original, we are fascinated with the human past. And It's the human future which intrigues us most.
Seems we cannot understand us.
We cannot abide the thoughts of stagnation.
We seek to change into the heart of what we are, but... change into what?
We are hardly original.
Therefore, what will be your rewards?...
For playing the game...

here she is once again,
the thrilling bliss of southern rain

he saw he conquered he came
he left her in the toilet without a shame

she cried many times for all the
promises and lies he told them

they said chin up madame,
you have to move on, the train stops for no one

even if he is gone...

bag with filthy clothes that smell of deranged violet and fistful of thoughts

breaking down in a million different ways trying to prevent a collision of teardrops.

hanging in there was never so hard
glass was always more fragile to break

my soul was never the one that stops yet
it's higher in someone else's regard,
so I am repeating the same mistake.

the rag stinks of defeat and my mouth carries a taste of someone else's words I can't repeat...

I like cussin’
I even researched the word.
It ain’t cussin’
There’s an R that is not heard.
We’re talking of cursing,
The taking of God’s name in vain,
Back when it was blasphemy.
Those days will never come again.

It ain’t the same way
Like it was back in those times
When spitting on the sidewalk
Was a jailing crime
And black people had to walk
Down in the gutter.
There were words back then that
Decent folks didn’t utter.

Well, I ain’t religious.
I don’t go to any church at all.
It ain’t that I am evil;
I’m not riding for some fall.
But there are times
Like when you hammer your thumb
That saying “Oh fudge!”
Sounds just plain old **** dumb.

I am not sending
Anything or anyone here to hell.
It’s just helps
To say hell or **** or fuckaduck
When you have to yell.
A shuckydern don’t fit the bill like
A shouted “****”
When you are *******, raving
Ready to spit.

I totally understand
That some words have a place.
Calling people *******
Can be seen as a huge disgrace.
But I still insist
That many times in a conversation
The word *******
Just fits the momentary occasion.

So, scoff if you will.
I’ll try to play by your nicey-nice rules,
But there are people
What are nothing but ******* fools.
I do hope you pardon
My not liking any more pleasant words
When someone says
The dumbest **** I have ever heard