Knee to the neck
Face in the asphalt
Only in America
"Well, it must be the Black's fault!"

"Listen to the police,
...and what they're insisting!"
Floyd said he couldn't breathe
And he wasn't resisting

"Don't commit crime
...and this won't happen!"
You racist motherf@$!er,
Have you no compassion?

Did you view the same
Recording as me,
And where did you develop
Your lack of empathy?

'Relieved of duty' isn't enough
It's the bare minimum
Do right by our brothers and sisters
And charge this f@$!ing criminal

Lock up Derek Chauvin
And the others involved
Until Justice is served
This won't be resolved

Bottled up in
Ecstatic anticipation.
But at least it’s like I’m stuck in honey.
Meanwhile the
Amber drips
Slowly
Down your hungry
Lips.
Stir me into a whirlpool in your tea.
I’m
Suspended
Until you twirl your finger
                                                inside.
Dissolved.
There’s a little bit left on your chin.
And I’m sorry, Honey,
But it looks like I’m even stuck in your hair.

Little white sails
Skimming the horizon
Little white clouds
Whisped throughout the sky
Little sandy pebbles
Tumbling through my toes
Little loudening thoughts
Of life just passing by.
|b.g.|

It took years
It took years for me to love the color of my skin
To love the hair that grows out of my head
It took years to stop wanting to bleach my skin
To stop wanting to straighten my hair
It took years
To stop wanting to be anything but black
To stop wishing that I was never born.
But somehow, I still achieved it.  
Even in the face of people that are hell-bent on hating us every single day.

I should be doing homework but I can’t focus
It seems like all this work will be for nothing anyway
Like our deathbed is only a day away
I should be studying for finals but I can’t absorb any information
Instead, I am sitting by the door waiting for my dad to come downstairs
Just so I can tell him goodbye and pray that he comes home

I should be planning my future
But instead, I can only focus on the next few hours
Waiting and waiting and waiting
For my dad AND mom to walk through that **** front door.  

Hoping that my brother got home safe as well.  

All because of the color of my skin.

You know how, in those old quiet movies
the hopeless romantic would die in the end.
Or those faces, like a walk in the park would one
day end as well.

You know how in those silent films, without the
lively piano you would watch a completely different movie.
Like the actors are puppets being controlled, and you
can see the oldness in their eyes through grainy film.

You know, there's a beauty in watching the degraded old movies in my attic, on that reel. You can feel the artist's burst of creativity.
Really see the practical effects, the struggles to capture the same
world we can capture so easily now.

It makes me feel like I'm worth it; like one day someone might come across my poems and feel what people now can't. Like maybe in the future someone might understand my own bursts of happiness, and sadness, and recognize my attempts at capturing my world.

Laughter from Another Room
by Michael R. Burch

Laughter from another room
mocks the anguish that I feel;
as I sit alone and brood,
only you and I are real.

Only you and I are real.
Only you and I exist.
Only burns that blister heal.
Only dreams denied persist.

Only dreams denied persist.
Only hope that lingers dies.
Only love that lessens lives.
Only lovers ever cry.

Only lovers ever cry.
Only sinners ever pray.
Only saints are crucified.
The crucified are always saints.

The crucified are always saints.
The maddest men control the world.
The dumb man knows what he would say;
the poet never finds the words.

The poet never finds the words.
The minstrel never hits the notes.
The minister would love to curse.
The warrior longs to spare his foe.

The warrior longs to spare his foe.
The scholar never learns the truth.
The actors never see the show.
The hangman longs to feel the noose.

The hangman longs to feel the noose.
The artist longs to feel the flame.
The proudest men are not aloof;
the guiltiest are not to blame.

The guiltiest are not to blame.
The merriest are prone to brood.
If we go outside, it rains.
If we stay inside, it floods.

If we stay inside, it floods.
If we dare to love, we fear.
Blind men never see the sun;
other men observe through tears.

Other men observe through tears
the passage of these days of doom;
now I listen and I hear
laughter from another room.

Laughter from another room
mocks the anguish that I feel.
As I sit alone and brood,
only you and I are real.

Keywords/Tags: laughter, mockery, ridicule, another, room, anguish, brood, real, reality, dreams, persist, lovers, sinners, saints, madmen, poets, artists, minstrels, ministers, warriors, scholars, actors, proud, guilty, merry, blind, tears

two potatoes fell in love
deep beneath the ground
they didn't like the world above
the light, the wind, the sound

they preferred life to be still
away from noise and rustle
a life of stillness and of chill
without a hint of hustle

the only rush they ever got
was sprouting some new shoots
and when they had to deal with rot
or growing deeper roots

that's why with you i feel so glad
that we're together married
we'll be like two spuds till we're dead
then side by side stay buried