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I may not
See you again,
Or you
In this fleeting journey
Called life.

So when next
We meet
Don't be discreet
Or aloof
Like cacti in the sand.

Shake my hand
With gusto.

Hug me right

Let your essence
Linger in my soul.

Let our light shine
In smiles and laughter.

As we savor the old
And mould new memories
For the gallery of us.

Lest that wall
We hoped to fill
With red berry blossoms
Stays gray and bare
Like branches on poplar trees
After the storm.


~ P
what have we done
to trigger nuclear options,
tasers and guns
for misdemeanors
or worse -
errors rooted in prejudice,
privilege and power?

are we less worthy
of presumed innocence?

are we dispensable
like gloves and masks
and evidence?

do our service
and uniforms
and humanity
even matter?

our mothers cry too
when we die.

our children cry too
when we die.

yet your eyes
stay dry

when we die


~ p
mine eyes now simmer with insight
hitherto unseen;

glow like embers
hitherto unfelt.

mine spirit erupts
like mount tambora,
dormant far too long
now woke;

ignited by the fuel
of a calling yearned
and finally found;
threatening to
if not nurtured and toned;
if not harnessed and honed
for a journey of lyrical renown.

mine volcano erupts
yet its lava does not burn;

it only fuels my fire...


~ p
O silent ones
With chronic sneers,
White robes and crooked pens;
The world sees your guile
As trees the Sun
And knees the mourning aisle.

I saw you
Marching by the bay
In  Charlotte
Where Heather lay
Your cross held high
Like white privilege.

I saw you
Storming the capitol
Where laws are made
Not broken;
Your flags held high
Like white privilege.

We saw you
Kneeling on his neck
In Minnesota
As George lay
On the street
In cuffs;
Your head held high
Like white privilege.

Stealthily rolls the hearse,
A lowly beast of burden
With more grace than you
And your chauvinist crew
Of pseudo-patriots.

There will come
A time,
By providence,
When the breath of life
Leaves you too
And I won't be unhappy
Or shed a tear...

For the world would've moved
One grave closer to justice.

~ p
Social Justice Poem - #justiceforgeorgefloyd
tethered to
the beast
for life,
bird's wagon
blazed a trail
of pretty notes
like cherries in
a dry martini.

his poisoned beauty
we followed.

from harlem to
tunisia and bop,
bird blew his top
past duke and louis  
in d-minor streams.

but  the beast
kept pulling him back
to the frantic snow
of his diatonic dreams.

and like fire
he burned.

and like fire
he burned.

~ p
...for charlie p.
When I stare
At nothing in the air
And smile

Or sneer
Behind closed lids
At villains
In my dreams;

Do not despair
Or wonder.

I am neither mad
Nor glad.

I am merely a writer
Doing work;
Sowing seeds
In the fertile fields
Of my imagination.


~ P
for solace
i turn to music
with lyrics
from the brighter side
of the moon
and wash my blues away

i wash my blues away
knowing I'm not alone
in this broken house of pain.

sing me a new window
and a new passion;
let us fly higher
to the greater beyond
and wash our blues away

and wash our blues away.


~ P
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