I am not a perfectionist
but I want to
write such works
that make words strike
like bullets that hurt
when they are finally heard.

By which only the bad
and severely mad
could avoid being affected,
and for years later on
my art would be dissected
by other artists and historians,

and the wisdom that I’m bringing
would reach out and touch
millions and millions
of open-hearted civilians,
would enlighten the frightened
women, men, and children;

Inspiring the tired fighters
to stop the riots and
indict violence inciters.

I want to put people
on the edge of their
consciousness.
Till, they are forced to face
the plain reign of pain
that stains people’s brains.

I do not expect my experiment
will be successfully permanent,
or start any sort of social movement,
but in my wildest most hopeful dreams,
in my grandest poetic schemes,
I am moved to move other human beings,
and make them feel what I have felt
and see the things that I have seen.

I am but a passing poetic fool,
who hopes that you’llcont.
humor him.

So, I can sit and write again
and again, calling on
my current, past, and future
treasured friends
to appreciate what lays
underneath different tints
and shades of skin.

That by taking these verses
and polishing them,
you might finally listen
and act with more compassion
and less greed and ignorance.