He has been looking for a way into the distance.
Chosen as his anew home, he repapers the suburbs' pale walls using cheerful thoughts.
His steps leave dim light in the alleys and alongside all the winds and shadows he dances with chafed feet at night.
At dawn, he hungrily heads for the great crowds, seeking for some fleeting smile.

Back in my bone crushing
poverty ridden days,
I collected cans for nickels;
enough cans meant ***** and
smokes for the day.
one morning I came across
an empty can of beer, it said,
Dead Irish Poet Beer.
i thought, how odd is this?
Just then, a car blew by blaring
a Van Morrison song.
I thought, ah yes, but he's alive.
I didn't take the can for the nickel.
I left it to its green garbage
can grave.

I'm a rat inside a cage, struggling to escape;
Unless my body turns cold, they'll not let me out nor let me plead my health.  
Squeaking loudly, calling for help, but they just can't
— If they go out from their hiding place, they'll reach the same ending as I am.

A specie that almost everyone hated— rats,
A four legged warm-blooded mammal hiding behind walls or below the stones;
Stealthily looks for something to eat: anything even a false meat
As long as there's something that can fill their empty stomachs.

Although I saw countless of my kin dying, not returning home
To our haven with a safety of a hundred percent unsure,
We still go out during the night, battling with the phantoms in the territory,
We both are seekers, the only difference— humans and food.

My father sacrificed himself by climbing the thin wire and fell;
My mother sacrificed herself by climbing the fence and had been stabbed;
My brother was just eating when a wild dog caught him;
And now I'm imprisoned in this cage where I thought human will feed me.

The world has turn its back on us,
Now I'm here, dying for something I wanted to ask:
“Were we made by just one God?
Or were we only here to suffer on this land?”

The night comes once again and stars filled the sky,
I'm breathing heavily, I wanted to cry.
But my tears dry before it can even fall
Until I heard ‘someone’ weeping with a hopeless call.

“We both are one, being imprisoned in a cage;
You're in the mirror while I'm in the reality.

I fatten the cow
And drink her milk
To wash down
Her baby's flesh
And she loves me even now
As I squeeze her *******
Her milk allows
It feels like silk
Because I fattened the cow
To drink her milk

BLACK AND EVERY LIVES MATTER

Much more to humanity than being White or Black, no inferiority nor superiority.

No African No American and nothang like Asian. All I see on earth is humans.

No black no white or yellow complexion, but all were humans of same kind.
All Lives Matter. And if humans should be categorized, Black Lives Matter.

Why do we **** each other? It doesn't really matter who you're nor where you from, we were nothang but brother.(s)

He Who wishes the world peace would not alone dwell therein. Black lives matter as well as every other's.

We have got to change the way we live, change the way we think, we got to change the way we treat each other.

We need to change the way we perceive one another. What's love if what we only understands is to **** each other?

The black needs the white and what could the white do without the black? Even the world is made Black and White. So tell me why do white hate on black?

(I asked my little lad here of the type of color, all he could first mentioned was Black and White.)

So tell me
since we all realized both white and black were divine colors,
why do we have to fight one another?

Instead of us building humanity and making the world a better place for everyone.

Let us not spare any room for racism in our world. If we can't be together, why would God made us together? He would have set us on a separate world.

Why do we have to live under oppressive laws? How do lives survive where and when solidarity becomes history?

Much more to life than poverty. All lives matter no difference. No Peace for a wicked mind, If nobody tell you, who seen you ever made it higher by bringing others  down?

Let he who is without sin be the first to cast the stone. Mistakes are inevitable in our world.

Even the judges can be wrong too. Why do we judge each other, and yet telling people to be themselves and yet judge them?

All lives matter. Corona plaque has no place in our midst and social distancing doesn't separate us, hatred do ****** us.

We got to learn to be a  brother's keeper, no to racism because Black and every lives matter.
#c9_fm

The local convenience store dealers lean on glass windows with ****** pupils scanning the parking lot for any takers. I pump my gas on station four and spy from afar. Don’t make eye contact or that means you’re interested. No buyers yet. What do you suppose is on the menu for today? Judging from the amount of zombies I’ve seen pushing stolen shopping carts a block away from here, I’d say smack. Tar. Black. ******. Whatever they call it where you’re from. Welfare bodies withered down to just flesh hanging from bone, wandering around aimlessly for their next fix. I’ve only ever tried it once; I was curious and sad and it was there—in Violet’s hand and then in my lungs. Do you think my mother would cry out in those disgusting sobs of snot and heaves of not-being-able-to-breathe-tears if she knew? Do you think my sister would look at me with that glare of judgmental disapproval because yet again, here’s an example of why I’m the family ****-up? Do you think my father would smack me upside the head and call me a *******? Probably. And do you think my third and sixth grade teachers who told me I should one day do something with my writing would be gasping in disappointment? Definitely. The gas pump clicks off. A potential customer staggers across asphalt to meet his makers and I am no better than he is at this very moment.

A myriad of people I see.
I lay my eyes upon their deep agony.
A father rejoins broken slippers for his pedestrian tyke.
A couple shops for clothes on the roadside.
A mother holds her daughter and subjected to a terrible cold.
The rickshaw puller shouts for them to move away.
He has his own place to be and children to transport.
They all have their destinations and
sights they need to see.
The clothing they need to wear
and lifestyles they wish to be.
It’s the life they got.
It’s not sure if they wanted it.
With the gaze of an outer observer
I see,
and be unable to read
their thoughts and dreams.
I long to know
the places they are in
and the places they want to be.

Does society need a push to be made just,
Can we not together find solutions set to last,
Homelessness and poverty rife with shame,
With people given numbers but no name.

Are we so callous, blind and proud
To block our ears from cries so very loud,
Their wants and needs not our concern,
As we shake our heads with gazes stern.

Gone are the neighborhoods that kept us close,
Replaced by ones which only inequalities expose,
Gleaming steel towers where merely money speaks,
Silent neighbors with no word spoken for countless weeks.

Corporations filled with wanton greed,
Blind to crippling poverty and need,
Governments complicit in this crime
Grasping for income all signs of morals they begrime.

Solutions few, decisions hard,
So many options by self-interest barred
And yet in some humanity prevails,
Providing sustenance that such humanity entails.

To the rest of us, the watching masses,
Idly gazing through rose colored glasses,
The moment beckons for a  society to heal,
Lest that apathy our very soul forever steal.