You can think of this
pandemic as an novel
slowly unfolding.

We are characters
caught up in the plot - we're the
heroes and villains.

We bring our desires,
educations, biases and
social reflexes.

All the small sins and
great vanities of mankind
have a home in us.

The challenges we
face, in chapters yet turned
would scare the angels.

Will, we, the people,
psychologically flinch
in this, our great hour?

If so, expect no
Crispian Day speech of legend
to mark our passing.

is grieving for a stranger unfair?
it feels wrong to follow suit to causal continuation  
the moon awaits
the stars await
god awaits
the reaper sows
no glory will be to those who live without fear
blessed be to the exalted
dawning to the new age

I was a bigot,
My body wrapped in red and white,
With blue eyes on stardom.

I was a saint,
Satan's servant with a Bible,
A man of God's war crimes.

I was a fundamentalist,
Funding mental lists of hate
With money stolen from the poor.

I was a colonist,
Carving out sacred land
For the benefit of my white body.

I was a misogynist,
Marking my territory like a dog,
******* on the other’s freedom.

I was an American,
A white straight man,
A brutal prodigy of the patriarchy.

I was
As he was,
A lineage that will be broken.

It's been 19 years
and America
is still
burning.

The death & destruction
carries on
without prejudice,
hungrily  
taking all in its wake
and leaving sorrowed
loved ones
behind.

Man creates man.
Man destroys man.

The only constant is the earth
below our feet
& our conflict with each other,
from whose blood and ashes
a new one
is born.

When will we wake to see
we have been the masters
of our own terror
all along?

He was a toad catching flies
Except that with each lashing of his tongue
He pulled down aircraft
And long could be heard their cries:
Blessed be, Amphibian Creator!
Death to America!
Frog is greater!

I’ve been looking,
through glass windows,
reflecting city lights
of the night life.

Strange phantasms
pass like distorted
carnival glasses,
mind mirrors broken
from the harsh words
spoken.

I’ve been searching,
seeking the smiling hearts
of brave angels
who face hateful strangers
that are full of poison,
and spitefully spitting
sick syllables,
possibly contagious,
as they go
instantly viral.

I’ve been watching
cops stopping
particular people,
seen one to many
real life movies
that end in tragedy,
and in observing
the hurting
of children
and elderly folks
I have fallen
to tears of rage
and anguish.

I’ve been wondering
if in my wanderings
seeing this sideshow spectacle,
of disrespectful,
cruel, and hateful
authoritarians,
have I found the true face
of America?

Lounging, today, on Your back porch
I saw America's men
Holding their tiki torches
Toward all they had been

I saw all of America's men
Wade angrily out into the icy upper bay waters
Toward all they had been
Through the tears of their mothers and daughters

Wading out into the icy waters
Holding their tiki torches
Through the tears of their mothers and daughters
Lounging, half-drowned, on Lady Liberty's back porch

i’m still looking for the version of america that was taught to us in school.

the america where the flag that stands
stands for everyone’s freedom,
not just those whose skin is made of porcelain.

the america where those who protect and serve
protect and serve everyone,
not just those whose skin is made of porcelain.

the america where all are welcomed
and we welcome everyone with open arms,
not just those whose skin is made of porcelain.

but i guess this is only the america that lives inside my head.
the america that never existed.
where “everyone is free”
yet everyone whose skin isn’t made of porcelain is seen as a felon, a ‘bad man’, a walking disease, a theft...
as an inferior.
and the stars and the stripes that so gloriously fly
even in the darkest of nights
no longer stand for freedom.
because this “freedom” only applies to those whose skin is made of porcelain.

what makes the porcelain people so different than those whose skin is made of velvet?
when the version of america where that question is answered exists, take me there
because
no one is free, until everyone is free.

I knock on the door, he says go away
I plead and I beg, let me in, I say
Please let me in
He pushes me astray, telling me to find another home to invade
Stepping aside I reveal one large flowerpot filled to the brim with soil and three blooming flowers
May I at least enrich your garden with my three budding fruits
Reaching out, the homeowner grabs hold of the cylindrical vessel
One by one he looks each flower up and down, examining their brightly captivating colors
Their yellow-like nature shines like gold in the sun
The depth of their cocoa centers contrasting beautifully with those same honey dyed petals.
Looking over into his garden, I see only white flowers.
Though equally beautiful, the unanimous collection lacked the distinction that my prodigies could provide
Awaiting his response, my head falls limply in reverence
Yet I remain confident
A smile gracing my lips.
I was excited to see
Excited to witness the opportunity my blossoms would be given to thrive in a nurturing environment
Yet as my head rose and my eyes lifted,
All reassurance left my face,
My happiness transformed into terror
Before me stood a man seeming ten feet taller and baring the face of a fiend
A wicked smile replaced his pondering expression,
A snicker belt out from his nostrils.
Looking into my eyes, the homeowner spit his words into my face
The saliva causing a sickening chill to run throughout my body
In my heart, his words will forever stay
My God-given soul permanently hardened to stone  
No. They are the wrong color.
A shiver sparking a queasiness in my belly
As are you.