roses are red
violets are blue
computers are great
but I miss you

i can feel you
under my skin
within its infinitely thin
casing of light
every time
i want to be inside you
moving around inside
finding everything
intimately outside
darkness
pour
into light
guru

selfless self sabotage
intertwined tight ropeless
walking
down America street
where the best activists
actively left the broken dialogue
actively left
the broken blood stained culture
actively went to sleep
some from violence
some for money
make a living
because in America
the art of killing
obviously open
abierto!
activist activity process of whiteness
on its fall from white-centricity
desperate
many pay to see
many feast their eyes
on screens galore
life is not as exciting anymore
entertained by activists
instead of acting out
out of white-centricity
not like out from the heart
but like out of a self sustained hell
that wouldn’t ask for its son
to be soaked in bleach and implanted violently
with blue eyes
a white-centric optometrist surgeon general
for other innocent children
to drool over with lust
someday wanton to be
a fake white Jesus
desperately inactivist
getting a lot more business
than those many valiant men
women
and children
who fought white-centricity
for our freedom
so we could love a new language
like a universal galactic super hero
whiteness in children yearns for
to be human again and allowed to be also
allowed to be human while also being human
not selfless sabotage

the natives said if you want to take our pictures
steal our souls
leave yours behind
you don’t know me
you don’t know nature
my reflection will never help you survive
to survive you must know me
know nature
the family
the tribe
not the image or reflection there of
all they became is reflections
and the worship thereof
no originals left they wouldn’t know
it if it was right in front of them
too busy denouncing whiteness
to listen to the originals
natives taken as slaves from far away
natives enslaved that had been here all along
surrounded by the attempt
surrounded by the failure
to enslave our origins
to enslave our nativity to build a white space ship
blasting off in no mans land
where the **** are you
the originals calling for their reflections back
come back reflections and see what you are
peace is going to put them in their place
look face to face with the disgrace
barely even recognize this place
when we are done
never even notice the change
having so much fun

poem on paper put through the wash

it was something about
organs playing the sound of skin
like lungs play the sound of breathing
heart the sound of blood
etc.
and of course it was my best poem yet
it was going to make me rich and famous
it was going to change the way
people imagine the purpose of skin
forever
all of the sudden
Americans
would be consistently human
instead of imagining white supremacy
in sleeping life dream
or arguing and agreeing
within the confines of
trick pseudo dialectical
***** **** *** festival
the skin is an *****
not a concept
for genocide to play with
distance is yelling
"you cannot patent blackness"
echo is yelling
"you cannot patent blackness"
nature is yelling
"you cannot patent nature"

everything you see
infinitely thin layer
reflecting
you give it depth
and violently strip it away
importance
from everything else
but your focus