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Ron Sparks Jan 2019
Send me nudes, you said
I sent you my naked
truths instead -
An unfiltered and unapologetic
glimpse into my heart
my innermost self
That part of me that so
rarely sees the light
of day much less the
judgement
of another soul
In the end, staring at my
demons, at my fears, and
my weakness you
failed to see
my strengths, my beauty,
or my integrity
You looked into the
abyss of me and
blinked
Ron Sparks Jan 2019
Bravery
I thought I was brave
with the scars to prove it.
My legacy -
   broken bones,  split knuckles,
   black eyes and loose teeth.
   Adulation and respect.
I fought  both man and isms
Never backed down.
But a black man, driving
an Uber taught me the truth of
true bravery.
Harassed, insulted, threatened by
a low-life passenger,
  white racism covered in a cheap suit and tie,
he refused to take the bait.
He denied himself the pleasure of
      justified violence.
He told me his story -
and anger for him, righteous indignation,
crashed over me in furious waves.
I admonished him for not
confronting that mans ignorance
   with a closed and determined fist.
Never back down, right?
Gently, he spoke the truth of
   black men in America.
His eyes caught mine in the rearview mirror.
You, he said, are innocent until proven guilty.
Protected by a system that
oppresses me.
I am guilty - period - and would be lucky
to be arrested, not killed,
  in a confrontation with that bigot.
So he did nothing, let the swine in a tie
off at his destination,
and drove on - leaving that pig to
wallow in his hate.
His bravery earned him nothing.
No adulation. No respect. No recognition.
Nothing except another day of life.
Another day with his family.
In contrast - my lifetime of bravery.
A pale reflection, when set beside his truth.
He was brave, not I.
My self-styled bravery, forever
tainted
by my privilege.
Ron Gavalik Dec 2018
It was just past 2:00 am
on a lonely new year's eve.
I drove across the Rankin Bridge
and noticed a gold flame dance
atop a stack at the mill.
I stopped the car
in the middle of the bridge
and walked over to the rail.
In the darkness above the river,
the suffering didn't exist.
It would return
with the sun.

-Ron Gavalik
Ron Gavalik Nov 2018
After the most abhorrent violence,
during times of misery and sorrow,
a wise man will sit in a dark room
and reflect on his truths.
In rage, he will curl his fingers
into the tightest fists.
In sadness, he will weep
for all that has been lost.
In his chair, the wise man will drink
his whiskey, and then he will stand up
and fight back against the hate.

-Ron Gavalik
My city. My community. My life and my love.
Why even one?
Why should even one die?
Why should even one die from hate?

Life is too short.
Life is too short to die unnaturally.
Life is too short to die unnaturally from hate.

Why doesn’t man learn?
Why doesn’t man learn not to ****?
Why doesn’t man learn not to **** for hate?

What’s God’s purpose?
What’s God’s purpose for making man die?
What’s God’s purpose for making man die from hate?

Why sacrifice?
Why sacrifice six million?
Why sacrifice six million and eleven more?

God made man.
God made man hate.
God made man hate his distance from Him.

God cries out.
God cries out for our response.
God cries out for our response to hate.

God is looking.
God is looking for man.
God is looking for man to return.
God is looking for man to return to Holiness.
Blogging at www.insightshurt.com
Buy “Insights Hurt: Bringing Healing Thoughts To Life” at store.bookbaby.com/book/insights-hurt
Madison Oct 2018
I am so sorry

That they've burned down your home

Left you standing upon barren ground

Cast stones through sacred things

They shouldn't have even touched.


I am so sorry

That this ugly world

Uses fear as ammunition

Never paying mind

To how you must feel

When used as the target.


I am so sorry

That people have 'opinions'

About these tragedies

Even turning well-deserved eulogies

Into slippery slopes.


I am so sorry

There were people screaming

Just when you were trying

To rest.


And I am so hopeful

That you will reach such magnificent heights

That they will never understand.
My heart goes out to the victims of the massacre at The Tree of Life Synagogue in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, and everyone who was affected. Words can not express the pain and anger that come along with situations like these.

If you would like to support the synagogue and those affected by the massacre, please donate here:  

https://www.gofundme.com/tree-of-life-synagogue-shooting?pc=&rcid=r01-154068572309-160a2bed6a4044a3
Ron Gavalik Jul 2018
I came up in Pittsburgh,
the Rust Belt of hard labor
with a deep love of community.
As children, we collected railroad spikes
from the tracks and we cut our shins
on random iron shards in **** hills.
Some of us were union middle-class
and others breathed the gray air of poverty.
That hardly mattered. As we stood atop
foothills that overlooked the city skyline,
soot embedded under our fingernails,
we lived as kings and queens
that oversaw the future.

-Ron Gavalik
Hit my Patreon, you scurvy freeloaders. Patreon.com/rongavalik
Ron Sparks May 2018
The best men and women
in this life are not the
holy
or the righteous. They
are not
found in the
church or temple.
We live in a world
where religious
virtue
is conflated with
bigotry, racism,
and hatred.
Only the godless are truly
good.
Ron Sparks Dec 2017
A man and his child were
gunned down In my
neighborhood today.
My community did nothing -
leaving the blood-soaked street
as the only reminder of
mankind’s capacity for violence.
l did nothing except
gnash my teeth at the
****** of a small child and
wonder if l lived in the
wrong neighborhood.
l look at myself-
the silence in the mirror
reflects my face
but not my
hypocrisy nor the
agony of my
screaming heart.
Ron Sparks Dec 2017
The Penguins are playing tonight
I have a belly full of high-quality
whiskey,
a fine cigar between my fingers,
and a pleasant buzz dulling my
constant anxiety.
The announcers play-by-play,
constant and frantic,
blares through my 70-inch television
adding artificial drama, but I like it.
I'm surrounded by my
precarious middle class wealth
while thousands of
slaves suffer and die in Lybia.
But I’m drunk, oblivious, and happy that
my team
just scored
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