You wanna be what you see,
So be the light;
That light you first saw
At the Dawn of life
After months brewing
In the Dusk of Nature's womb.

You wanna be what you see,
So be the Love;
That Love You first saw
In Mother's eyes
When 'Cry and Scream'
Was the only line
In the only song you knew.

A line
Simple but loud (like truth).

A song
Sacred and sound (like youth).

Understood
Universally
Without exception
By every Mother
In this Big Bang
Called Life.

Perfected
Universally
Without exception
By every newborn
In this Big Bang
Called Life.

Then
You grew up up
And away
From The Light.

And that black and white
Of Baby-You
Became gray.

Even Black and Blue

On some dark days

As you grew up
And away
From The Light.

And blurred the line
Between truth and lie;

And blurred the line
Between wrong and right

And The Light
You first saw
At the Dawn of Life
Grew dimmer;

Lie by Lie.

Don't be a Liar
Baby...

Be what you see...

Don't die a Liar
Baby...

Be what you first saw
At the Dawn of Life,
After months brewing
In the Dusk of Nature's womb.

Be The Light.

Be The Light.

AYO

~ P

Spoken Word Version>>> https://soundcloud.com/pablo1960-1/be-the-light-ii-aspirational-beat-poetry-by-pablo?si=0cb9b17852c7­4b9ea136f9e3f14d35cf&utmsource=clipboard&utmmedium=text&utmcampaign=socialsharing

It matters not
If you're black as night,
White as light
Or any hue
Between those two...

If you can ball
You'll get the call;
You'll make the team
If the team is built  
To compete;
If the team is built
To win.

That's meritocracy
In motion.

A starving dog
Cares not
Who feeds him.
He won't bite those hands;
He understands and obeys
His instinct to survive
And stay alive
To bark another day.

That's survival
As nature intended.

The team
And dog
Should surely lose
Or die
If guided by hue
Like some in blue
Spilling black blood on cue
Like life's a game
For Whites Only.

But they are winning

And we are dying

Like dogs.

~ P

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

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

Shake my hand
Brother
With gusto.

Hug me right
Sister.

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.

AYO!

~ 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

why?

~ 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
confound
if not nurtured and toned;
exhaust
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...

ayo

~ 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
Breathless;
Your cross held high
Like white privilege.

I saw you
Storming the capitol
In DC
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
Lifeless
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

tethered to
the beast
for life,
bird's wagon
blazed a trail
of pretty notes
like cherries in
a dry martini.

his poisoned beauty
led;
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