The smell of something putrid
protrudes up through your nostrils
as you walk down these dimply lit streets.
You hear the fire crackling, you see the glow off the side of an abandoned building.

Is this one of those fires you see on the news -
set ablaze by anger and retaliation?

No.
It's the burning wounds along Jacob Blake's back.
It's the marks of oppression -
the scars we "distract" ourselves from.

There's a fire burning in America
and the source is plain to see:
while bodies line up along the streets,
people following along on their TV screens
say a prayer for broken windows.
They mourn items that are looted
as if it wasn't a life that was looted first.

There's a fire burning
and it melts the black skin right off their bones.
A skeleton has no color
yet they blame corpses for their own murders.

There's a fire burning
from Sanford to Staten Island,
from Louisville to Kenosha.
But those very flames were ignited
by the people designated to put them out.

Who watches the watchmen?
Who stands with the people?

The hammer has dropped.
The bullets have left the chamber.
As long as our brothers and sisters
have to fight for their right to live,
Red, White and Blue lives don't matter.

I am a woman. I can be all by myself
I am equal to a ‘man’
I don’t need anybody to look after me
I need no man to hold my hand.
 
I am a woman. I am tender, not fragile
I can indulge in all life has to offer and intensely feel all the emotions
I have strength tenfold. I can fight for my freedoms and rights
Nothing can restrict me from fulfilling my dreams and aspirations.  
 
I am a woman. I bleed red
Grievous cramps drag me closer to death, and still, I put up a smile
It is pride, no shame. I bleed to create the world.
Even if I am tagged ‘impure’, I am not going to smother behind the veil
 
I am a woman. I deserve to be treated with respect
I will never settle for less, in equality I believe
I am neither born to satisfy a man’s hunger nor to be a victim of dominance
Instead, I am born to be a woman of my choice.

Freedom of speech is only ever true
If no one is listening to you
Watch what you say you can disappear too

Under the haze of reality
"You're lazy"
Echoes in your ears
When everyday
You're worse for wear
Toiling the lands
With your coarse hands,
The callouses so thick
Still you remain meek
Against the landlords
With their noose
Around your neck
Tightening
Gripping
Clenching
Until you can't breathe
Gasping for air


The blood, the sweat
The tears as your eyes wet
They can't see
The struggle
How you juggle
Taking care of the lands
And of the family you left home


When will it be your turn
To be taken care of
By the mother you love so
By the brothers in the capital
Saying we're all equals
As they fool people
With their jargon
With their orders and sections
Rules and regulations
Disguising their intentions
Schemes so evil
People end in peril


When will they give you
Time to rest
Time to voice your distress
Time to stand up for your rights
And finally see the light
Of day
The day you become equal
Not only in mere words
Or campaign spiels
Or posters and flyers
Decaying as they hold power
For years and years
As if you're just a stone
They've stepped on

Dear child, it's time
Time to say enough
Time to call out their bluff
Time to not be afraid
Time to stand up and fight
Dear child, fight for your rights.

This right is sacred
Marking this ballot is my rite...
a passageway to true freedom.
I feel the blood of ancestors coursing...
I hear the haunting cries of arrested dreams...
Stolen hopes for my enslaved great, great grandparents...
persecuted & denied rights, beaten for daring to read & write.
I do this for them...
I feel the heartbeats of my children and my descendants ... this is my legacy...
I do this for them.
Oh yes! This right is sacred...
This is my justice... righting these wrongs...
These stickers symbolize the spoils...Prominently displayed
And these collective voices will be heard...battle cries of suffrage
this rite is ours...
it belongs to us...
it always has...
this is our ancestors’ hope,
our legacy...
This is our right...
This is our voice...
This is our vote...

Frustration I can understand,
Devastation I cannot bear,
King saw the promised land,
In the dream that we all share.
Tear that falls or persevere,
Across the land of ‘opportunity’,
Where do we go from here?
Chaos or community?
We sat through hate in Woolies,
Walked past Birmingham’s barks,
Rose a people ravished in slavery,
Yet in this stand tarnish Parks.
Voices are clearer than crackles of fire,
Change must be built peace by peace,
Though I know the situation is dire,
One must show beauty to tame the beast.
We will never see the coming of the lord,
Through the suffocating smoke, of the horde.

Shannon sang:
Life is hard,
We have to change

Global pandemics and
Civil uprisings

Nothing will be the same

People in the streets
Voices carry
Did they hear us?

No justice,
No peace

An echo

Rubber bullets
Mace in the face
Independence day

All lives matter,
So they say

Girl in the green shirt

Costume covers
Grieving mothers

Life is hard,
We have to change

What's the scariest book you ever read? ... Some Stephen King book like Salem's Lot or The Shining? For me it's Kate Millett's ****** Politics ... Oh, man ... Now THAT will scare you to death if you're female.

I discovered a man, overheard at my church, who actually believes his *** is a sign of power and of superiority. WHY am I so startled? Some childish trust not yet scrubbed off?" Or worse yet, some belief, not yet strangled, in a better world? See, stupid me, I thought this bill had been paid, by sufferance, by real people like Elizabeth Stanton, Carrie Catt and Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. ... by entire generations who ran through those tangled woods emerging cut and bruised ... if at all.

What is it like for HIM? I see him eyeing us, his little inferiors who bleed with the moon, with secret, catlike distaste ... regarding female opinions as slightly impure ... then, with calm, Godlike grace, granting females the forms of servant to assume.

Can I, can we, be forced to accept this inheritance? I don't know ... All I know is that this prejudice, so strangely without substance, strikes me like a dueler's lucky ******, robbing me of attendant rights and wit ... springing a tender trap of doubt in the future and abandoning me to stammering.