September's sinking sun
summons shorter days, persimmon's pearled berries
have been gobbled up, sultry sunflowers still stand tall,
but court their namesake's light coyly now, perhaps knowing it will starve them out when its arc loses length to the earth's taunting tilt

mercury crawls slowly
down the tube:
100,
90,
80,
70,
like blood returning
to the heart for a fresh start,
until it settles in its own vesicle, patiently waiting for heat's return
to pump it once again through its brittle artery

I have no patience to wait for its return, no long yawn to greet eternal days, for I am cursed to know
September's soft songs give way to October's ambivalent skies,
and to November's naked ****** of all things green and gold
  December then, need not utter a sound to convince me what leaden fate awaits the long forgotten ghosts of summer,
  and the seeds I have yet to sow in futile ground

"back in the day" is something
the masses have begun to say--they didn't hear,
five miles to school in the snow, uphill, both ways
nor did I, but I did hide in an arroyo from wicked desert sands,
crouching small with my notebook protecting my acne pocked face
the chosen (with fewer zits) poured from shiny clean station wagons,
their morning mothers’ smiles on their tails, sans the gray grit
from my lonely wilderness journey

still,
we got our first color TV that year,
and I got to see red blood from the first fallen
in that crazy Asian war...I can't remember what color it was
on the black and white, though it dried black on my jungle fatigues,
only five years later, when Sugar Ray from south side Chi-town died
in my arms, one of his skinny legs blown off by a mine
someone decided to put on that trail,
back in the day

Walter Cronkite told us it was all for naught, and we believed him
Johnny Carson still made laughs while anonymous millions made love
(now I hear tell Jay Leno is "back in the day," so who the hell was he?)
gas lines began to form, and Tricky **** tripped on his tongue,
one too many times, and even more chanted the mantra,
"back in the day"

decades passed,
with Iran holding hostages, Ronny Ray-Gun getting shot
and Clinton getting a *******, and the day finally came,
when we were told we were all the same, with some folks
named "Will and Grace" gracing the screen,
now that Walter and Johnny and Superman
retired to a place called obscurity,
or maybe Nebraska

I didn't know what to tell my straight kids, so I didn't
and that was OK, because their "back in the day" was 9/11
and it mattered not who was het or gay, because nobody had black and white anymore,
those tube filled dinosaurs now in some landfill, buried beneath a billion dead cell phones,
a trillion plastic bottles, the cyber art of Steve Jobs and Bill Gates,
and the dung of dogs who could stand the sterile scent
or who did not care

now we still say back in the day,
the view of that backward horizon different for all
I try hard not to wonder, what spell we are no longer under
when we can’t call someone a ***, or hang someone
who simply tries to vote, and of course I must duly note
when my PC is silenced in a newer pile of trash
it will not matter who was gay, or who says,
back in the day

the privilege
to ask these questions, was granted to me
before the long black veil of night
covered my eyes    

could I?
the lieutenant gave the command
and we all fired on them  
a platoon of us, against three pajama clad VC  
skinny as monkeys, minding their own business
walking that trail, a thin rope through the jungle
made by the feet of thousands before them  
safe they thought, so far from
the foreign monsters--US  

would I?
of course, and I did
with 49 other night stalkers
who then crawled with me to find our ****  
100 elbows through the tall grass
100 knees close behind  

should I?  
we found them, each a riddle,  
riddled with a dozen holes apiece
mangled flesh asking the question, was one of those red roses yours?  
did my round take off his ear?  or sever his spine, or did mine
fly somewhere in the dark night, where these
sorrowful souls now dwelt forever      

could I? would I, should I?
I got to ask those questions,
and pulling the trigger,
my fumbling finger answered all 3...
the signal that moved it, the message
that traveled down my spine
from a place darker, deeper
than the night  

the privilege to ask
still there, a lifetime later, in waking dream  
long after the fallen became part of the grass  
we slithered through to see them  
before they could ask,
could I? would I,
should I?

tonight--my walk
there was fog, a rare vapor
on these prairies

perhaps there  
because I had just read of London,
and German bombs falling through its mythic miasma,
though the only sound that disturbed
this nocturnal glaucomic vision
was a lone siren,
a fire truck, vanished
into the ether,
to save a life

I suppose, since
there was no fire
there was, on the next block
in halogen haze
a fox; I know
you

you ate the
fat black pet hare
the neighbors
mourned  

tonight,
you, and I were on a stroll--I tracked you
just to see your fine tail, hear your soundless
pads on the pavement, knowing the sight and silence of you
were as rare as the misted air

then,
a truck came
its lights making you disappear
and waking me
from this cold
perfect dream

I don’t know who lived there  
in this stucco house, that appeared  
to be inside out, with fireplace mantels  
under every window, and a setting sun in each pane
walls as smooth as polished stream stones  
power sockets here and there, black cords
plugged into each, all disappearing
into a mist where this abode slept    

I listened for voices
from behind the walls  
though one never hears
in a dream--at least I don’t  
people had to be there…there    
where their shadows danced
behind the fiery orbs on the black glass  
I called to them, but still could not hear
the music that drove their feet  

the suns never moved
on the panes, though the clock
hands spun  inside the house--I was sure of that  
for the shadows faded, the dancing stopped  
and whatever creatures and strangers
lived within, became part
of another’s dream

No Justice, No Peace
If we can't get it from the Court
then we'll take it from the Streets
No Justice, No Peace
**** the Police
and what you believe!

Whatever happened to Revolution
Being the American way?
When your voice remains unheard
For which you suffer every day,
Your life is constantly stepped on,
Your rights keep getting taken away,
And in spite of the lies they spin to protect your oppressors,
You still keep the rage at bay
Because you are not
Above the Law
and neither is anyone else.
So taking matters into your own hands
Isn't going to help.
You entrust the justice system
to do what it's supposed to
Even though you know it never has
and is probably never going to.
But if you haven't done anything wrong and the Law doesn't serve you,
and only seems to defend the people who've already hurt you,
then honestly I think it's insane and completely absurd to
not only expect the People not to react,
but to honor a *curfew.

*******
Do you hear us yet?
*******
Oh, it's inappropriate?
You don't wanna talk about it?
You don't wanna think about it?
You don't wanna deal with it?
Well guess what?
Nobody ******* does, nobody ******* would, nobody ever ******* could.
But for the people who don't look like you -
Aryan Beauty Standards
Hair of Gold, Eyes of Blue
Fair-skinned, light-skinned
European skeleton,
It was never a choice they had.

Oppression doesn't pick you
Based on qualifications
Any more than Privilege does,
If you think this case
Is not about race
You better check your Privilege, cuz.

I love my home, America
But I hate what it's become
Land of the greedy, home of the afraid
Kingdom of the Loud and Dumb
****-shaming, victim-blaming, race-hating, race-baiting
Sensationalization of the worst crimes in the nation
Religious intolerance, homophobic misogyny, blatant racial discrimination
Can't get with it, can't hang
At least not in the lynch mob sense
I am blown the **** away
at the grievous absence of common sense.

So when they lit those flags on fire
in the center of the town
I understand, and I can't blame them
the flag is truer up in flames now
And if they so decide to burn
the city to the ground,
I understand, and I can't blame them
I would wanna burn it down

*No Justice, No Peace
If we can't get it from the Court
then we'll take it from the Streets
No Justice, No Peace
**** the Police
and **** your Beliefs!