Two book bags just got shot down,
while celebrating the end of the school year on the play ground.
Destroying our souls.
Again and again!
in Chi-town.
Ain’t nothing sacred anymore.
Marching from here to there.
Saying “Stop The Violence”
is met by a corrupt system;
that just don’t CARE.
We The People must learn to CARE once again.
About our community....
Our brothers and sisters in their beautiful black skin.
Those two book bags represent someone’s
little girls bleeding out on the cement shores.
Never to explore education's reach, marriage, or raising children in peace.
“Stop The Violence” isn’t just a tagline.
Its a call for justice,
while sustaining the Black man's bloodline.
Our children deserve to be safe,
while being Proud and Black in any living space....
at any given time.
Why does my Black skin come with a 'they died too soon' deadline?


(C) Copyrighted

I am a spiritual being!
a temporary human being.
A cosmic symphony
composing its own living dreams.
Residing lovingly
within these fragile,
and precious days of me.
After all, I am the Cosmic
Namaste Child!
A divine instrument playing out the breaths of Father God's
incarnating imaginings.

Copyrighted (C)

I am somebody
Shot in the Head...
Found the bullets.
Coroner Said.
A child of God struck dead.
Gang related disputing Fools.
Aiming cowardly bullets right at you.
I guess praying prayers just won't do.
There is no safe in these hard knocks realities' Truths.
Our Sista child!
Our mother child!
All the while the bodies pile.
Her body now adds to that 'the shootings aren't as bad as last year' body count.
Can't even stand anywhere in your city NOW?
Something has to truly give.
There's a plague of rigid legalities, relaxed moralities, and political realities stealing the 'safe' from our dying breed.
The Black man withering away in siphoning inequalities.
Doubling unemployment stretches outward like a statistical wild fire....
Our present fact.
There is a genocidal component to these criminal acts.


Copyrighted (C)

Published in the 2018 Edition of the Reconstructed Literary and Visual Journal at Governors State University.

All my lived tales of fading breaths draws nigh,
Haloed crowns adorn the individual fruited hills upon...
The mountains awakened Sighs.
A mortally wounded man faces the travails of his last STAND;
A lost soul crawls up
Into the transitory steps of that heroes climb
To that journey's expected repose.
The deeply torn,
Impaling obsidian sword carries its own burden's weights.
Upon the in between space of
Life's and Death's meeting scene.
That soldier man comes finally to the
Mountain top's giving being.
The bursting soul in its moment's release,
Departs its earthy reside.
Death pervades the foggy rites of ended life.
His haloed name is now declared!
His haloed crown of the majestic ages wears his divine head.
He walks anew on the grounds of Angelic dreams.
A new path reserved
for only his haloed Wise,
His haloed Eyes!
Revealing the prize of the Cosmic Scenes,
Where the Master guided my cares and resided in me.
Now walks besides me holding my hands closely for all ETERNITY!
Amen to Eternity's Version of Me!
Life Goes On and time for you to flip the page.
Flipping these pages is what the living continues to do.
This is the stories of mortal Truths!


(C) Copyrighted

The Veteran Soul lives on always.
Papa fought in the extreme cold.
Memories of you and me.
Stills his companion nightmares on battling scenes.
All those firing bullets rage on in waves of saturating hate.
Couldn't even seal his fate.
His best friends.
His very respected mates succumbed to untimely fates.
He heard within himself....
in the context of his heart...
These words saying, 'America..
America!
How I shall fight to defend your free.
Give me that enduring faith of yours ole liberty.
If I lay down my heart beats for thee.
Just don't forget I died for my mighty country.
As he heard the grenades bursting away.
He continued to run into harms way.
And then one bullet pronounced him dead.
The picture page flips to his honored grave.
His loving wife and daughter of eight.
Hold together his hero's American flag in their shared hands.
Their tears respectively fall on that precious American flag...
That flag.
That powerful receipt represented that he had died for the ideals of his homeland.
As his family walks away.
Dressed in the silhouette garb of grieving ways.
You could hear the song of 'America the beautiful.
The beautiful song permeating in the haloed whispers from his warrior's grave.
Even to this moment.
Where we honor and celebrate him and all Veterans on Veterans day.
I love you our Fallen and those still
Alive.
You are my brave Veteran Soldier Eyes.


(C) Copyrighted

'I am regenerating.
A soul takes its
transitory step
from a caterpillar's last breaths.
The healing white lights of change renews
my soul's infinite quest.
Suddenly, a rainbow butterfly emerges to claim the waiting sky.
For I am reborn.
as the Cosmic Butterfly Eyes
of the Loving Divine.'