Ponder this with me —

The euphoria will not last,
Realize —
that when you find yourself
Spiraling to the familiar
comfort of your anger,
That we are unified.

Unified in a collective grief,
for a world —
Gone awry.
Unified by the fleeting hope,
That our voiceless cries
Are actually heard!
Unified by the
Hollow mockery of mimicking echoes
From the ivory tower.

We grieve the enigma
Of illusive peace,
Like grasping for the ledge in free fall,
Looking for the control —
We never had.

Shall we celebrate
This union of half?
On one hand,
King’s audacious dream,
A beacon of hope for unity,
On the other, misplaced hate,
Tightly bound in fear’s cold grip.

Forced together,
In deafening discord
Of striking dissonance,
As oil insists on water.

~
Hand and needle,
weapons of mass protection.
Mending day called solace,
bitterness in every stitch.
When all guides disappear
the hand begins to tremble,
that is the material point.
Listen to the water,
the sea is full of memories.
It knows everything,
it feels nothing.

A rage is building.
The sails unfurl,
the wind follows.
A hundred years of
traversing the deep
on a ship full of opiates
and other distant mermaids.
This blood vessel,
cresting the heart of the wave,
you will never completely cross
this body of water
until you learn to trust
the hands that hold back
death and it's squall.

Even now they drop anchor, singing
into the starry sky:

"Gather ye fishermen's wives
As thy men roll out to sea
Pray one and all
Thy sails hold strong this day..."
~

Have a nap
And a snack
Before you attack
someone undeserving
By overreacting.
When anger fills your veins
let your blood boil
But speak kindly.
I gave you room
for more than one feeling at one time;
but only one tongue,
so speak to my children with love.
Each word spoken
Doubles in sound
And what you give to this world
Will come back around.
Glove your hands.
Cushion your grasp on the world.
I made your palms strong;
More than enough
To build up life,
Though it's by choice
when you tear another's down.
Don't clown around
and waste your life
Denying Time.
There's no excuse.
Even I am not as old as she,
And she is stubborn
And unyielding,
So walk steadily,
And stand tall.
Be proud of yourself.
Stay grounded in what you know-but Always remember:
I know all.
You know some; some others know more, And some know none,
Yet no one is dumb,
Just unsure.
For those who have no conviction
Or strength to fight
I gave you feet like the tree roots,
Dig your toes in the sand and tower over Anyone who chooses to be
The first flame in a fight of fires.
Be my burning bush for hope and change, Boiling blood exists for a reason,
There is a time and place
For everything that you are,
And everything around you.
Travel far
And feed the hungry
Under the blue skies I reside in.
Shade and shelter your kin,
Yes! Your brothers and sisters.
Even if you don't know them..
Especially if you don't know them!
Then get to know them!
They are your family!
And i command loud ringing
Voices of comraderie,
Echoing happily off
Homes you built
Both outside and in.
Your temple
That houses me within you
Is coming along splendidly,
Child!
You've grown into a fine reminder
Of where you've been and who i am.
Keep going,
And do everything you can.
Like storm at sea
Rowing over waves,
Keep faith and,
Also remind yourself that
You're worthy of the efforts you give others,
So another's love
Had better
Match your own.
If i answer "No" don't fight it.
I know it stings.
Oh yeah, protect the bees, they're important down the line.
I hope you like flowers,
And rivers,
The fruits of my labor are for you,
And yours should be for your children too.
Teach them well,
And after a blink or two in time,
You'll see them like i see you,
Nearly divine!
You'll feel proud to know this world ive gifted you is safe for another day.
So rest your feet;
It's time to come and stay with me.
Let's watch the world you helped create,
And Rest easily.

No words can describe the sadness I feel
Listening to musings of those mad with power
Dividing this house with vigor and zeal,
With no ear for cries of the people devoured.
Then again, does it even matter what’s right?
Victors write history, and a win is a win  
Regardless of rules, or how ***** they fight.
Will it be enough to hide the truth of the sin?

The luster has worn off
Revealing the worm eaten rot
Of unvarnished racism

Confused conjucture breeds many different lies

It becomes the screaming banshee of our time, wicked as one can see through our rose colored glasses

It is like a pocketwatch that has been wound up too tight, the springs have sprung on the inside

Demented through the years, they become uncertain with time itself, grey and cloudy

Pressed against the center stage,  a voice rang ill-fated truths to all ears, but no one was listening

Pushed out of the seat of demise, we stare back at the crimes, allowing a dismal approach to our self conscience

It is to say four be six in a different view only to sit below the compass of the operators

We can imagine many things forfeiting who we are, bleeding rituals of cultural disbelief, we turn around and see

So be the right or wrong, it becomes a sense of our moral code, when do we pick it up and put in our pocket though