The Earth is an aquarium in which we live
reality so sure that it leaks like a sieve.

We understand what we can see touch and feel, but other matters seem so unreal.

Thousands of years we have run around, but not even one footprint on Mars can be found.

We are trapped here from birth until the end of our days, to run like rats in this furious maze.

Death comes to all who are part of this race. It is the great collision between reality and faith.

From Spirit's plane to ER, I
Waited 4 hours post triage.
Watched a middle aged white lady wail herself to the front of the line for her pain was the only thing that mattered in a room of other equally ill patients.

My body shocked and perhaps still in the sky.
It was this moment that solidified that I had matured: grown to know long suffering love more that the other traits. Patience was as rooted as my African ancestry, my black race.

Every knee bowed on our neck
even when we’re right our tongue will confess
just to stay breathing.
Snakes in the grass that we’ll tread and hex that lays seething,
fake bleeding, just as a reason to decay our meaning.
The rage is heating but their passion for us stays freezing.
What’s next? Modern slavery is them open-carrying
weapons that prosper and officers that foster beatings.
Their face red as a lobster sneaking on someone black just to accost her.
Blue is the color of mobsters that fed lead
to someone innocent; she bled dead in her own ******* bed.
We could be doctors, seeking to uplift with our waters but instead,
we’re razed to the ground, wasting away in a plot
as we rot! Yet we wrought nothing in their haze.
Our offenses aren’t grave but we dance with dismay to our graves.