The world is made out of different colors of people. All of us are born equal. We are born naked, hungry and cold. Beyond that we must struggle for what we get. Some likeneed not try as hard as others, yet life is still a struggle. If we were to stand side by side and look at each other, we would see only superficial differences. In truth, the color of humanity crosses borders and ideological lines. We must embrace the rainbow of different people in order to live  as the human race in peace and prosperity for all.

that buzz starts
and my palms flood with
sweat.
the needle hits flesh
and it’s all familiar;

I’ve been here before.
still, it’s all forgotten,
except for the idea
that the images I’ve
asked him to mix up
on my arm are very comforting
to me.

Our Lady of Guadalupe
and an ink pen,
I’ve grown up surrounded
by both,

so to stir them together is safe
in its sacrilege,
not sacrilegious at all;

permissible in fact,
because of their combined power,
a display of faith in my own
ability to create, to destroy
darkness and demons

with notebooks and prayers
offered from a small stage,
through a live microphone,

or in a coffeehouse with
the newsman,
the laureate,
the tiger,
the bundle of nerves,
and the denim-clad
troubadour.

Our Lady of Poetry
will watch over us all,
in our church,
the church of the spoken-word.
*
©P&ZPublications; 2015
-JBClaywell

“Hell…”
You didn’t let me finish my greeting
But I suppose I’m a prophet
Because I described how I’m now feeling