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When a white woman is victimized they'll scour the streets, fan out, stop,
harass, detain, arrest any black man. Any one they can finger for the crime.

They say things such as they all look alike or something to that effect.

A black woman is abused they'll look around, see white males everywhere but they cannot find any suspects? None of them fit the description.

Why is that?

Yeah, that's right, it is because they all look alike! Too many of 'em. Can't arrest everyone now can we? People have rights!

Yep,
          I suppose they do...



As long as you consider them,
                                                        "­people,"  
                                                    ­                           -they have rights.
For those who bother to check..my father told me about the original T.V. media on this and I deduced the rest by a sheer enjoyment of the man. Love you AL.
 Feb 2017 Austin Bauer
Jor For
Your ******* are eyes
I will try to mind manners

Where I'm from
Eye contact is considered
Very good manners
 Jan 2017 Austin Bauer
Max Vale
Oh sweet hummingbird,
How do you do today?
Fly by me and carry,
The smell of nectar and hay.

Don't your wings get tired?
As you fly, fly, fly.
You always brighten my day,
*And I don't lie, lie, lie.
 Jan 2017 Austin Bauer
Ramin Ara
The cloud poured down rain
On a withered flower
And said
With every drop of rain
I made
An earring
For you
Above the mountains
the geese turn into
the light again

Painting their
black silhouettes
on an open sky.

Sometimes everything
has to be
inscribed across
the heavens

so you can find
the one line
already written
inside you.

Sometimes it takes
a great sky
to find that

first, bright
and indescribable
wedge of freedom
in your own heart.

Sometimes with
the bones of the black
sticks left when the fire
has gone out

someone has written
something new
in the ashes of your life.

You are not leaving.
Even as the light fades quickly now,
you are arriving.
From ‘House of Belonging’ by David Whyte
 Jan 2017 Austin Bauer
Linda Pahl
dark butterfly emerges at the taste of the moon
both fragile and strong with bent gossamer wings
she lifts towards the sky and drinks full of the light
and dances in moonbeams in celebration of flight

Linda Pahl, 7/10/14
The road seen, then not seen, the hillside hiding
then revealing the way you should take,
the road dropping away from you as if leaving you
to walk on thin air, then catching you, holding you up,
when you thought you would fall, and the way forward
always in the end the way that you came, the way
that you followed, the way that carried you into your future,
that brought you to this place, no matter that it sometimes
took your promise from you, no matter that it always
had to break your heart along the way, the sense
of having walked from far inside yourself out into the revelation,
to have risked yourself for something that seemed
to stand both inside you and far beyond you,
that called you back in the end to the only road
you could follow, walking as you did, in your
rags of love and speaking in the voice
that by night, became a prayer for safe arrival…

by: David Whyte
excerpt from SANTIAGO
 Jan 2017 Austin Bauer
nivek
Hang one word gentle as air in the midst of the storm
- let it thunder with your heartbeats
and let it be a cry for love to prevail.
 Dec 2016 Austin Bauer
Mike Essig
on poetry*

A poem is only a mouthful of air
until it is read.
Imagine it. Craft it carefully
from your heart's flesh.
Seal it in a bottle
of clear, pure words.
Set it adrift on
the ocean of time,
life's restless surge,
until a few congruous spirits
pluck it from the sea-wrack
and recognize a message
that illuminates their souls.
Readers find writers;
never the opposite.
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