My fourteen years old daughter
loves her high heels
may be
more than her mother

Keeping my hands in hers
she told me once
‘’Mom
Please make yourself comfortable
with high heels
Every time you will wear heels
yours knees may buckle
your steps may shiver
But once you will make into the high heeled world
your self confidence
will never crumble”

I wish
I could remove her heels
tie her shoe less tight
and make her to walk
on that road
filled with stones of inhibitions
and slippery sands of prohibitions
because i know
that road
and only that road
leads to
top of the world
where high heels
will be no more needed

But what if
she asks
where are my shoes ?

And all your heros are gone,
but you refuse to take off the mask.

A loudmouth, a capitalist,
with greasy hair and a golden toothpick,
he is your enemy
he is your oppressor and
he sits upon a throne of coal and blood
with armed security
and a nation built for him,
to protect him and his money,
a police state, pat downs on the corner,
murdered in the street,
your daughters gotta eat.

He grows fatter and fatter still,
he loves complacency,
he loves contentment,
he invests heavily in both.

He knows we are strong,
he knows we are many,
he knows he must divide us to win,
he knows we're his greatest weapon,
so he created Fox News,
he created TMZ,
stealthily,
we didn't even notice,
he created NPR and KVIE,
he gave them masks that look like ours.
They look poor,
they look starved,
they look like us, but they have a different master.

Our master is the earth,
our master is our coworker, our neighbor, our mailman,
our dishwashers, our bus drivers, our minimart clerks.

Our masters are not the TV,
our masters are not the radio,
our masters are not the New York Times,
they are not National Geographic,
they are not BP,
they are not our principals, our administrators,
our policemen, our CEOs, our investors, our bankers,
our insurance providers,
these people hate us,
they hate us because they can't squeeze blood from a stone,
and
the rivers are running dry,
the factories are standing still,
the people, our masters and our friends,
they're in the streets,
they're shouting "BLACK LIVES MATTER"
they're shouting "NO JUSTICE NO PEACE"
"NO MORE WAR FOR OIL"
"**** THE POLICE"
"DOWN WITH THE 1%"

and soon
and soon,
The False Gods will grow so fat
and we'll have nothing left to eat but them,
and on that day we'll sit down to dine
and it won't be civilized and it won't be pretty,
their blood, our blood, will feed the rivers and their flesh will feed our hungry children and their money will burn and warm our chilled bones but we can't wait,
we can't wait for this to happen because everyday they grow stronger,
we grow weaker and the river becomes dryer.

The Bourgeois is our enemy,
they say 'All Lives Matter'
they say 'Work Hard and Your Dreams Will Come True'

BUT THEY LIE

Sewer stained,
The street, the pavement an so to
Soak the shoes
Born torment twice and a recurring
Tap upon back;
This slipper, a signature
Succumbed suicide,
Slaughter,
An only sorrow
But lash shared millions,
To tread paths beyond barbed
And a sooner return to my
Land, or its maker –
Wards and shop,
Sweat under, sweat atop
And browed, be the animosity
As I swagger my way through
Haizhu's faceless crowd.

This is the assumption of Arcadia.

Or so she’s said and she’s right
As I witness the
Hunched backs, sea pearls
Stained-bowl rice, bow-legged dreams,
The denizens
And if only to stagger,
Come 12 more hours to shelter,
Simply shelter
And a dread named, “day,” come ‘morrow.
It’s real, as real as the sun’s rising,
As real the sun’s sweating
And as real as the sun’s setting.
So onward they go, meager and dollar
Driven, under whip and promised avarice
So that as guilty as I may be;
I’ll still buy, you will too,
He will too and she will too;
We’ll buy and assume our “Arcadia.”

Two roads cross

You are beautiful
I smell of manure
You are magnificent
I am a fake immitation of my own mirror image
You are statuesque
I am a hunchback with toe nails like a wolf claw
You are generous
I am poor
You are a star
I am a comet that is being drawn in by the sun
You are amazing
I merely count my fingers and my thumbs
You are a flying hawk
I am a mouse caught in the hawks mouth for dinner;what pleasure

In a world
Where we throw things away

You can shovel all night
It's still on display

You got your bag
And you put it in a pile

Then burn it, what a rip
I want to go some place else

Somewhere where they
Recycle everything

If we put any more plastic
Into the ocean

Pretty soon we'll
Be able to walk on its waves

Pull a Jesus
When to know Him   ...frees us

Not the plastic jesus on the dash
Not the Reverends looking for cash

A revolutionary look at the world
No more not taking the blame

To do that is insane.

Look around you
What do you see
In everyone I meet
There is a whole lot of me

Look in to the sky
Any given eye
Sees it just like me
We are one under the sun

Our petty differences
What ever happened to
Live and let live

If you do unto others
As you would have them
Do unto you

We've got a long way
To go Towards achieving peace
A long way toward loving one another

I could sit here
And **** on it
Stop it from happening

So many people
Not thinking they are one
They are one under the sun

Give it time
There is no expiry date
There is no time
No such thing as of late

One under the sun
Just one only one
Under the sun

Dismantle government
Let the rich help

Divide us into
Four Hemispheres

North South East West
Four strong Four bold

Take what we know
And squeeze out

All the good from
What we are learning

We adopt and adapt
Walk before we run

All humanoid
One planet one sun

Shropshire the outback of hives and mires
A birthplace of industrial revolution
Built with ***** iron and bricks
submerged in the depths of the water beds

Shropshire the strength in the metal structure
A cast of firm shields and fields
The greenery of contrasting yellowy yields
A mirage of hills sat on pillar heights

The breeze so fresh as sun prints on the canal
The warmth so intense as the bird hums in the nests
Labour artisans and metalsmith at the heart of coalbrook dale
Bricks aisles of pathways along the river
Bordered by vintage delicacies of the magnificent nature