Once I received
a plant
in a brown ***.

I put it outside
-the verandah exactly.

Every day I saw it.
Well, I thought it
needed its hydration and vitamin D.
So I
watered it a little
and sunned it a little.

One day,
I saw them-the FLOWERBUDS!
I felt something
tinkling? sparkling?
there
resting on its very seat.

A few days after,
they bloomed.
It rejoiced I could tell.
Photos were taken
don't you worry.

At 5pm I rushed home
just to be greeted
by their sincere, smiling petals.
Touched,
I, too,
smiled.

One night
before October began,
I was awoken
by the wailing
of such a strong, wild wind.
It wasn't anything ordinary.

Then I remembered
my loyal welcomer.
"Oh"
I braved myself to
open the door.
I turned the ****
and leaned against the door,
withholding the whirls.
"Oh,"
One dot, two dots, three dots,
countless dots
rained the soiled and deformed.

I felt it
being ripped
to pieces.

Not even the ever changing colors of autumn can compare to your eyes.
Even when every plant dies, your eyes still glisten as if they were a raindrop rolling off a leaf in the spring.

t.h.

I look at your eyes, I look at your face.
I no longer try, I no longer fade.
I look at your skin, I look at your hair.
No fear from within, no burden to bear.

Your eyes are brown, your eyes are bold.
They make no sound, yet they are gold.
You know of pain, you know of joy.
No need to say, no need to enjoy.

Your smile is warm, your smile is bright.
It’s so adored, no words and no signs.
You make me blush and you make me cry.
I try to hush, but can’t help but shine.

You look good from afar, but you look perfect up close.
I no longer feel scared, I no longer feel alone.
You light up my day when it grows so dreary,
You shine up the rays and heal up the weary.

There is the red in her eyes
Her passion as she sprinted for the gold
There is blue in his fingers
His soul when he played sheets of old

There is yellow in her smile
How she can even brighten the sun
There is green in their voice
As they harmonize many as one

There is brown in his feet
Stable roots for his family's needs
There is gray in her mind
What revolutionary invention will she find?

The world is so colorful
With people who make it so bright
But when I try to search for my own color
I find nothing, nothing at all
And I simply fade to white.

Fruits of the brain rolling over the slabs
The wooden casket of my dreams
It is my haven that protects me from death
And ever so stoic in the ground it stands
It will never budge for it retracts the light

But the warmth it contains
On this barren tract of land
In all its chaos in its branding
For the comfort it holds
And the truth it confronts

Protect me

What if
Brothas and Sistas in Oakland and Richmond
Got together

They poison Richmond's air
Just like
They poison Oakland's water

Every Body from Oakland has a cousin in Texas
Or Louisiana
Or Haiti
Or Atlanta

Just like

Every Body from Richmond has a cousin in Mississippi
Or Alabama
Or Jamaica
Or Tennessee

Why dont
Brothas and Sistas in Oakland and Richmond
Get together

What would that look like politically
What would that look like Economically
What would that look like spiritually

For as long as the decades i can remember
Its been a problem

For as many years have passed now
I've been saying to as many as will listen that i pass

Its been a set up.


© Christopher F. Brown 2017