We are unsung but
natural born
free formed like
Marley does dreads
all in your head
like we be the toast
of humanity
out from calamity
a designed order
from chaos
the dark
matter
that matters
the sentient beings
with celestial wings
bringing galaxies
as cosmic bound
earthlings
we define we

I am a kind word uttered and repeated
By the voice of Nature;
I am a star fallen from the
Blue tent upon the green carpet.
I am the daughter of the elements
With whom Winter conceived;
To whom Spring gave birth; I was
Reared in the lap of Summer and I
Slept in the bed of Autumn.


At dawn I unite with the breeze
To announce the coming of light;
At eventide I join the birds
In bidding the light farewell.


The plains are decorated with
My beautiful colors, and the air
Is scented with my fragrance.


As I embrace Slumber the eyes of
Night watch over me, and as I
Awaken I stare at the sun, which is
The only eye of the day.


I drink dew for wine, and hearken to
The voices of the birds, and dance
To the rhythmic swaying of the grass.


I am the lover's gift; I am the wedding wreath;
I am the memory of a moment of happiness;
I am the last gift of the living to the dead;
I am a part of joy and a part of sorrow.


But I look up high to see only the light,
And never look down to see my shadow.
This is wisdom which man must learn.

And a woman who held a babe against her ***** said, "Speak to us of
Children."

And he said:

Your children are not your children.

They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.

They come through you but not from you,

And though they are with you, yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts.

For they have their own thoughts.

You may house their bodies but not their souls,

For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit,
not even in your dreams.

You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.

For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.

You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.

The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you
with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.

Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;

For even as he loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also the bow that
is stable.

In the dark of the night,
Be the light from the moon.

They beat the candy blues
into her thoughts,
as she sought
and bought
the sugary sweet,
multicolored gum drops
which were used
to subdue
her hunger pains,
but did nothing to
nourish healthy views
of living.

They trained her
to comply
to an almighty on high
father figure,
white bearded guy.

Whilst televangelist
propagated
hateful ****
pompously
requesting those
who were suffering
in poverty
to send them
the money they needed
to maintain their greed.

They were teaching her
that the measure
you need to reach
to say you succeeded,
is a measuring stick
that tends to extend
beyond previous
measurement.

But she bought
the glittering jewels,
sought to capture
her fantasy alpha male fool,
and achieve
the American dream
in which she believed.

A noble nation
would not distract
from the facts
that hurt.

Fairness,
and justice
would not be words
bandied about
without
a single thought of
those who
suffer out of view
from you.

Our dark history
would not be
whitewashed
for general
complacency.
You would be
forced to face
previous tragedies.

Melanin
in a stranger’s skin
would not
make them
kin or not kin.
We would not judge them
or sit and pretend
to be color blind
when seeing color
is not the problem
we are trying to solve.

It would not absolve
the behaviors
of civil war slavers
elevating hating
to a monumental
status.

A noble nation
would see the struggles
each person is facing
and desire
to help all achieve
the “American dream”
of which they so
highly speak.

I stutter.
I shudder.
I rage;
When I am calmly
trying to explain,
instead of having a
debate
on race and hate.

I cry,
cause I can
hear the pain
when people
try and describe
the horrors
from which they came,
while knowing
no matter if
they are showing
true scars of abuse
the world will still view
them as an other.

It is obvious to me
when I study history.
I can clearly see
said sorry tragedy
of human suffering.

No specifics to share
cause this is just a poem
to say that I care,
and despair
of seeing
indifference
or people not believing
what others are experiencing
after four hundred plus years of proof.

When your answer to
me telling you
what’s going on,
is “but what about
the deep state,
Bill Gates,
five G,
that’s antifa,”
or “that just
fake news”

What is the use
of telling you
the truth
in verse
when you
haven’t heard
a single word
whispered,
yelled,
cried,
or transcribed
about the
horrors committed
in people’s lives.

I was raised
in the place
you set ablaze
with your venomous hate,

sat astute
in my Sunday suit
to salute
a god who rebukes
real wisdom,

forced to worship
a sic sorcerer,
that enforcer
for the acts of
crueler dictators,

but I’d prefer
to speak plain,
to abstain
from the mundane
which chained
my childhood
to no good
creeps and cheats.

I’d like to set sail
and prevail
against those
who would jail
innocents
in favor of
corporate interests;

To beat thieves
who seek to
take these dreams
and make fortunes
in ashes and destruction.

I know some promises
can’t be kept,
and I can’t expect
to make the world better,
but I’d like to be
a man who tried.

To be loved is great,
but to be love
is to elevate
others
before yourself.

It is to write
a world of compassion,
to press kind imprints
of humane intents
on the hearts of
women and men
whom you meet.

It is what I long to be
not a president or a king
but a leader of empathy,

an avatar of love
and peace.

After the plowshares
have been turned
into swords,
and we have been
conquered by
make believe lords,

I will bend a knee,
take a boot to my neck
let you see me
be put in check,

just to prove that we
are brethren,
and we can stand
together again.

I will write
a sharp and
contrasting light
to provide
hope in this
damning night.

Sending sweet
splinters of my
being
for anyone to see,
I will sing
“I love thee”
and be grateful
for this chance
to live.

Lonely, I watch
strangers from the dock
stand up in time to fall off
and get lost in the brine.

I watch others
going under
as their vessels
start to sink,
and the floating wood
falls away
under the horizon
I was eying.

I see the seas,
and these
foolish dudes who
get lit and want to
plunder you,
in their sick slick siege
of these shipwrecked cities.

Thick lips
that drip with
ill-intent
from their fist,
swearing
they aren’t wearing
the flags of the elite.

Eyes of defeat,
I can almost hear you think,
“Wouldn’t it be
super sweet
to surrender?”

My fellow
dock dwellers
fall in line
whilst I sneak off
the dock to find
a safer seaport.

I am not sick,
or a sociopath,
but I’ve got years
of watching people
laugh at that
which should bring tears.

So, when I see
a young girl crying
in solidarity
with the suffering
of a stranger,

I think it is beautiful,
and I cry to.

When I know you
can sympathize
with guys
whose lives
are so different,

Then the numbness,
the cold shield
that I built
to block myself
from feeling,
slowly starts melting,
the tears start falling,
and I finally feel
connected.