A piece of me
has gone missing
and I have to
go look for it

Your presence is perfection.
I'm happy to be here again.
When my mind was clouded and distant,
I couldn't feel you on my skin.
I'm so thankful for these moments,
you remind me of the life you put me in.
The very breath of Heaven,
living inside my skin.
Take my thoughts,
Take my heart,
and make them like You again.

The Politician

This to those who vote by rote
Or vote by call -
To those who vote at all:

Has he kept his word?
Kept to promises you heard?
Are you satisfied, let down?
Waiting to see what goes round:
(Several choices
Of the voices
Voting for the offices
Meant to be filled.)

Has he gone back on his vows -
Contradictory or harmful now?
Double thought through double-think?
Does it stink, prepared to sink
A land with aids, advisors, incomes
Sly, and on the side?

How will issues relevant be dealt with?
How will tasks be basked in
By the men
In power,
Typically men of the hour;
At their call, flasks, casks to drink from:
State affairs for one to think from!

The Politician 2.27.2017
Our Times, Our Culture II;
Arlene Corwin

Three in the afternoon and everything is fuzzy
You feel the familiar prickling under your skin and welcome it with open arms
But you can’t feel your arms
This vessel isn’t your body
But at the same time it is
You’re watching yourself lay there hopelessly while you pray and scream And cry
Oh, God, please don’t let me die.

But you aren’t dead
But are you even alive?
A bittersweet medium where nothing is real and your chest is on fire
You live in the flames, you feel yourself escape the trap of gravity
And you are floating
The bed you lay on is no longer touching you
You are in the air, weightless, but only for a few moments before
You crash down to earth and farther
And farther down more
Falling into endless
Painless
Void.

Am I alone?
Am I real?
Words ramble off the tongues of a homely face
But the words got mixed up in Google translate
Foreign words ringing in your ears and you can’t tell if
If you are really experiencing everything you are
Or if you’re just playing make believe with yourself.

Back to nothing.
Always everything but.

No one is going to love
  the deepest,
     and the darkest
   Corners of your soul
        like I did.*

-fir.m

I'm falling safely
Into your arms.
Oh?
Where did you go?

My white privilege is being proud to be black
I am white so I can be over the top and outspoken about being black
I can say whatever I want about whiteness
and
or blackness
It is self criticism
nothing to do with anyone else's assumptions
black lives matter more than white lives
is the mantra I use to self medicate
pick yourself up by the bootsraps
making black children excited
instead of scared
from the trauma of a racially imbalanced
world of whiteness
in a world that legally denies its traumatic process upon its victims
a society structured on the denial
that whiteness is a mental illness