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Mitchell Jul 2020
One day
We will all die

Of spray tan
Asphyxiation and
Too much lost love.

Until then,
Let's chat.

However, you would like it.

We could
Send digital blood or
Mis-diagnosed retina or
Maybe an error or
Intention followed up by
Treason of a reason

Of the basis of the

American psychic/moral reality.

Melville knew
Ahab needed to ****
Mocha yet,
Who is/What is
Ahab to die void
Of action,
Absent of momentum of
Projected

Self-realization?

My iron is hot
For a shirt

But all I have
Is an egg

That is already cooked.
Mitchell Jul 2020
What is
The origin
Of art?

Is it
Resistance?

Is it
Betrayal?

Is it
The last nickel
At the bottom
Of the pond
Stolen
By your best friend
For a

Last piece of bread?

I love you.
I always have.
Not but
Or and,
Or hard stop.

A star is a star
But we

Oh' holy we'

Are not made of stardust,

Not made of this and that;

We sell each other down the river

Then lay down sheet by sheet

In righteous shiver.

Contradiction;

Abstraction;

A lost of attraction
With no attrition,
Never chasing

What I think of

Perfection.

A sunset dog bark daylight
I'm happy We're Sad They're
The last place We feel safe
Can you believe

The shirt is not the sleeve.

I hit my hands
I hate my hands
They're there
They're
They are there
For me for you
For our for our cement for
Our Press for our Mothers
For our Brothers

For our our our our long lost words

Who forgot the power of

Words side by side Brawn
Mitchell Jul 2020
This

Has all happened

Before.

I love you.

I've loved you.

See me
Before

The after and

Before,

Where the sun and moon and stars
Already
Don't know your name
But ask you

Cream or rain.

I'm afraid of you,

Thus,

I'm afraid

Of me.
Mitchell Jun 2020
An old drunk
Walks up to
A new drunk

You know what?
The old drunk asks.

What?
The new drunk replies
From the side
Of his mouth
Not paying much attention.

Rimbaud,
The old drunk says.

The new drunk
Stands, cracks his knuckles,
And shoves
The old drunk
Back a few steps.

The new drunk kicks his shins and
Calls him names
He's always been called.
They still sting.
There's a spit
In every eye followed up
By a curse
That will last far past
Either of their lifetimes.

The old drunk,
Bloodied by words
And stupid starlight,
Manages to say,

Thank you, son.
I needed that
To remember.
Mitchell Jun 2020
Every forgotten
Tune
Was once
A mighty song.

Tragic how the human melody
Can so easily
Turn into
An orchestra of pain.

It is what happens
When
Truth to power
Power to truth skews.

Respect for all people
Is the only way path
To equality.

Maybe,
With hope,
With vigilant drive and
Unrelenting empathy,

Every
Lost Song

In America

Can be rediscovered and born anew.

So why
In this ongoing search
For this song is there

Treason?
Gas?
Blood on blood?

Why the broken eyes?
The cracked ribs?
The lost lives?

The spirits of the people
You fight so hard
To dispossess and scare
Still hear the song.

They will not stop fighting
To hear it.

There is no amount of force
Or violence
On Earth to mute
Such a cacophony of care.

What are they so afraid of hearing?

The song of the fighting free

Or

Their lack of one?
Mitchell Jun 2020
Oh' hate
Can you teach me how to sing
While so full of anger,
Fear, and pity?

Actually,
I do not want
Your lessons.

They always end in bloodshed.

I do not want your levels
Of comradery,
Your airs of solidarity,
Your photo-op hashtag
Trending to nowhere.

The smell of your hallow
Progress without policy

Smells of

Smothered concrete,
Choked promises,
Robbed lives.

The naivety of the structure
Of you and yours
Was partly my fault.

In my callow privilege
I felt there was something wrong but,
As James Baldwin told me,

You don’t know what’s happening on the other side of the wall, because you don’t want to know

For too long
Have labels and complicity
Kept White America

the Black Americans
And people of color
You promised over years of violence change
Down and at bay.

There can be no more songs.
No more duets.
No more concerts where
We sway underneath a joined milk way.

In truth,

There is nothing left to say.

There is only

What to do as one

Or without you.
Mitchell May 2020
ok.
It's a fine
Miss dancy;
The light

Knows

No alternatives.  

I love

The cloud beyond
Clouds -

ok.
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