Assata...
raged against the machine
and thus
most wanted
in the America
that she was forced
to escape...
lived
rebellious... and revolutionary
died
barefoot... and bilingual...
aged
gracefully...
surrounded by
the ocean
hibiscus, passion fruit
and mango trees...
with
wind-blown hair
and
sun-kissed skin
and
the taste
in her mouth
of
Freedom

I have not won.
but still
i am winning...

should this beast ultimately prosper...
until then...I love ultimately...
and that
ambers my aura
and
trees lean toward me
deer and rabbits... still... and stare
squirrels lay in my path
and birds
sit on the windowsill... and
look inside
to see
the
sunlight

I am not an inspiration
or counselor
and
I dont have it in me yet...
to talk
an addicted stranger back to life...

I dont have the energy,
nor do I have the know-how
to convince her to love herself
enough
to conquer
the beast
that is devouring her from
the inside out...
...and from all current indications
will surely be her demise...

I am winning...
but
this **** is so hard... and
my own **** is too fresh... and
I clearly peep the addict's
inadvertent and purposeful
"I can quit whenever I want to" self-delusion
with a detached ear...
as she scours the beer shelf for that with zero alcohol...
because her beast
has a
monkey
on it's back...

she must find her own light

I have not won.
tho i am winning...
have not spiritually shifted from "terminal" to "****... i beat it"

cuz there is still  
red blood on the battlefield...
and sometimes still  
white blinding pain and
grey exhaustion and confusion and
green pus and
brown ***** and
spasms and  
anguish and
golden diarrhea
and the
slate blue tone of
unrelenting totality...

make poems
make good vibes
make sense
make love
make silly dances
make friends
make healing
make paintings
make a life worth living
make tea
make ritual
make plans
make love
make gumbo
make good children
make cake
make a stand against evil
make sculptures
make things grow
make beignets
make bouquets
make a truce
make love...
make good love...
just not war...
not war...
im just sayin

What the "Indians"
really thought
upon seeing the
pilgrims
for the
first time...

There is no magic potion
Or Spell or Hex required
No Doctrine 
Or Approbation
Or Degree to be acquired
There is no formula or recipe
Modus Operandi 
Ritual or Rite
No red tape 
No routine
No code words to recite
You can bring your baggage 
Or leave it
Or I can help you to retrieve it
And unpack it
Or unload it
Me of mine
You’ll help relieve it

It’s just love Baby…

It’s not so hard to do
Just to me bring 
The very thing
That I convey to you

Just love me Baby…

It’s not so hard to do
Just to me bring 
The very thing
That I convey to you