your sky was a catastrophe.
not the inky black type and not the somber gray type either—no,
those were too cliché for you.
your sky was a shade between blue and gray,
the color of dejection, of loneliness
for it was only a shade in between.
never a whole
only half a mind,
and half a soul.

Not looking forward to looking back.
Not looking forward
-- Start to retract.

                                                       ­       thoughts are cyclic

The creeping sedative
Numbing every sanctum.
The Gray comes like a stroke
With unstoppable momentum.

                                                      ­  behavior becomes translucent

Leaking feelings do not return
Leaving only those without yearning.
Better yet, desire goes out completely
Leaving a shell - shattered – empty.

                                                         ­      emotional apathy

The pieces don’t fit together any more.
The more you try, the more disfigured they become
-- And so the ink begins to run
On a page, which never sees the sun.

                                                           ­                     social withdrawal

Four walls with no doors, no windows.
Secluded amongst others who are sane.
Accompanied by a consciousness so malicious,
Every effort is made in vain.

                                                  di­ssolution

Black and White meet.
The Gray is an admission…
An admission of defeat.
An admission of defeat.

Cast out of heaven,
For having a heart of darkness,
Not accepted into the depths of hell,
He's told that he has a heart too close to the light.

In between,
Neither white nor black,
Caught in the middle,
The colour grey.

He's the darkest angel in heaven,
He's the kindest demon in hell,
The wrong side of righteousness,
The right side of despair.

He's made a world of his own,
Rejecting the light, turning away from the darkness,
He's made a new definition,
Of the word 'broken'.

He's beyond saving,
So he's saved himself,
Pulling himself up,
Standing on the line of good and evil.

a gray fury moves, racing beneath a solid blue sky; the purest white is pasted against the endless sea above us, and it is the most beautiful thing i've ever seen.

a mess of foreboding destruction passes, racing beneath a perfect painting, and it is every piece together; the gray and blue combining, the meeting of dark and light, the rain and sun mingling, that makes me want to cry.

will we be this beautiful when we collide?

Revolt is not Riot
Appropriate reaction to state violence
80% unemployment for black youth
Poverty has its roots
In Slavery
Victims of death by ******
Unnatural
He did it himself they say
He died
His neck snapped
And broke the silence
Disturbed the peace
Inciting violence
Sparked Light
Of resistance
In the hearts and minds
Of the confined
And fear in the hearts of those who don't matter to mind
Modern lynchings
At the hands of police
And they call us thugs?
When we're killed for making eye contact
Or walking home from a store run
By maniacs with or without licensed guns
For having the nerve to shop in Walmart
Or playing with a toy gun
You know,
Cops and robbers?
But what happens when cops are now robbers of lives and justice in our communities
Then all too often they shift the narrative to you and me
Of why unemployed and underemployed thugs are stealing food from the grocery
Occupied like Syria and Iran
For failing to purchase
With dollars they don't have
In a store like CVS that is insured by the flag
How will order ever be restored?

A grey goose above me
Calls strident-high,
Alone and looking down,
While I walk toward the lake,
Looking up to find
His silhouette against gray sky.

We're miles from town
On a middling winter day,
Shortest hours of light
Within the year.

We two are lonely here.

Skies gray promise
Neither rain nor snow;
A warming wind is blowing;
Perhaps the silver skiff
Will melt again,
And let the grey flier in.

Where are his loved ones?
I'd like to know;
And why he flies alone,
Scanning from his skimming height,
And yet I think I know.

I used to hunt his kind,
To lie in wait beneath a blind,
And rise to meet
Descending flocks,
Wings set,
Until I knew
The goose I'd brought
To ground
And the goose above
Remained inseparable,
One mate for life,
Death do them part,
And after, live alone.

A chill is setting in tonight,
And I am heading home;
A fire and my wife waiting.

Some comfort as the evening ends
I hope the grey one finds,
In the company of friends...
I'd see he weren't alone,
If I could make amends.

I am neither black or white
I am not taking sides
I am both
I will listen to your woes
I am not a judge
On who's right or not
It's not in my hands
So, don't try to win me
I will never be
A black for you
Or a white for him

I am gray.