Religious discrimination sells, it's all the rage!
If a Muslim wants office, we automatically get
Suspicious, some pandering to the public's fear,
Deny our own constitutional laws and values,
And never elect a Muslim whether far or near.

My mother always said,
Life is like a river.
It starts slow,
A lingerting childhood.
An anticipation for the deep waters.

A steady flow.

My mother always said,
Life is like a river.
The middle,
Rebellious and restless.
An unpreditctable meander.

A hasty flow.

My mother always said,
Life is like a river.
And at one point it all comes together,
Each stream,
A lifetime of experience.
A river.

The cycle of life.

Hesitantly I asked,
But mother,
What if I can't swim?

Life is tough but death creeps
on you like a spattered image of
your yesterday's self
on the concrete
mixed with paste and oil
and buried under six feet of cemented soil.

And when we can we are able.
And we assure apathy
is a right and not psychopathy.

We are able to identify with those
who do not feel.

All of my voices have told me to shy away.
They don't truthfully know what to say
when dying leads to something far more gratifying
than any euphoric rush of ephemeral dopamine.

We are unseen.
We live in dreams.
We touch with enough distance
to transform an absence of rust
into decay and indifference.

The path ahead is limited.
Lying six feet underground
is not adequate recreation,
nor daily transportation.

And so you ask my preference,
I'd choose my comfy bed.
But for repercussions rampant,
I continue to walk while dead.

we live in the morning between smoking rooms
hanging underneath blankets
 soaked in glue

   we always climb that ladder           
       towards a higher value
     or maybe a better purpose

     sometimes we will laugh along
      and break down in the same week                    
        flashing everyone cracks hiding
           in private places

we've told you before
i'll say it again                  
the
  sun
    will
      not
      guide
         you.

Homes don't grow where I'm from
they only stand stagnant waiting for one to deconstruct a building process.
Limbs leave family trees way before fall happens. It's only a matter of time before one becomes familiar with "**** happens".
Indulged in decency far fetch becomes close Morals become like unread books.
Back-hand to reality some people get it.
Men will hit everything around, before hitting their target so a bulls eye is more like scolded ones golden tongues couldn't fix.
Pictures catch more than a moment
Pictures don't hang anymore the walls are gone. Houses look more like tornadoes  so prepare for hail. Aftermath can make a better beginning. Black looks darker in the light. In the dark your eyes will adjust so black is the new norm.
Accustomed to a ****** up custom where an abandoned home.
no painted walls, a brick mailbox, and a broken garage.

Lately I’ve been in a depression
Too resolve I need a form of expression
I’m upset because of my expectations
These expectations arise many speculations
I wonder if my expectations are too high
All I do is simply rely
On the fact that people will do the right thing
Even if its as simple as pushing someone on a swing
Is that asking too much?
If that’s the case, people have lost their touch.
People need to do things for the right reasons.
Not just during the holy season.
Even in religion doing the right thing is rewarded.
You’ll go too heaven because you believe God has you recorded
That isn’t right, because you should do it without any recognition
Even if it’s against your tradition
My friends say that with these beliefs I will be trampled
But if one person gets a sample
I know that I have been successful
And I will die without being stressful

my dog was full of smiles
when she was in pain,
from the ends of
her large, worn paws
to the greying hairs of
her head, because she
was dying -

but we gave her pizza
as her last meal since she
always
loved it.
more than us.
more than her life, probably,
even when she was so dizzyingly
overcome with
dementia and arthritis and hurt, so much
*******
hurt.

and i cried when we lost her
because it was so sudden, sobbed awful, wet tears into
my brother's torn t-shirt
since we didn't have time to change into better
clothes when we put her down. to help her. to save her.

yet somehow, knowing that we
gave her up
hurts worse than if we'd
lost her in her sleep.

and someday, i might
get into a car accident, and
my guts will splatter along the walls of some beat-down car in brooklyn
and someone i never knew will have
to clean me up. my friends
will lose me my family
will lose me my significant other
will lose me. they may
never
get over it.

so i will
send reckless text messages
and tell them that i love them because ******* it
if they don't love me back, i will
not wait for signs that
will never come, i will
learn four new languages so
i can meet so many more of the people who
may change me, i will
go to therapy and learn
from it, i will
create art that bleeds from my fingertips, i will
weave patterns into the fabric
of other people's lives, i will
hug my little brother when he
needs one, i will
kiss them with reckless abandon even when my parents do not
want me to, i will
be okay with who i am, i will
work on who i am, i will
love who i am.

i will
eat my ******* pizza,
just like my dog.

in case i get into that car accident tomorrow.

from the stories we read
we're always told
the villian is the one who does wrong
but who gets to decide
what is wrong and what is right?

Why should your morals be the best
Why should your morals matter more
Why are your morals
the ones that
matter?

A tale was told to me
Of an angry king of old
Whose kingdom fell to a bitter force,
To an anger he could not hold.
He was said to be an honest man,
Courteous and contrite
But widely known for fits of rage
Causing many to fear his might.
One such fit lingered long,
And the kingdom felt its looming
Like a shadow cast by the king's emotions
With seeds of unrest blooming.
On a stormy night, in the castle chambers
Where the king lied fast asleep,
A visitor came and in the king's chest
He plunged his naked steel deep.
"Why?" The king asked,
His dying voice soft and low.
The visitor answered the king,
His eyes with a somber glow,
"A man who crowns his anger king
Cedes the right to rule his life
And this is how your anger rules,
With the cold edge of a knife."