Little Princess Perfect without a single flaw
Thought that she was perfect in every way she saw
But one day she ran into a crazy, orange man
Who said "I am better and will beat you because I know I can"
Princess perfect laughed and her court well they laughed too
"You cannot win against me and my loyal crew!"
Little Princess Perfect and the man with funny hair
Got into a contest that seemed far from fair.
Princess Perfect with her legions of subjects said
"You're a sexist bigot and have an orange head!"
So the man replied to her face "And you're a crooked cuck!"
"You're also sick and greedy you lying, corporate schmuck!"
Little Princess Perfect who thought she'd already won
Laughed and played and called him names while he continued to run
"I will make this kingdom great once again I vow!"
And multitudes applauded him as he took a bow.
"You're all deplorable!" Princess Perfect cried
"How can you sleep at night taking this orange faced man's side?"
"Princess Perfect your days are numbered." he said in return
"People want this kingdom great. That's for what they yearn"
"People will never choose you!" Princess Perfect said
"Look at the polls you orange ****! You're as good as dead!"
And all her court agreed she had already won
So laugh and play they did having unending fun.
Then when the day came to decide the combatant's fate
Princess Perfect with her court could hardly stand to wait.
"Get ready to celebrate my loyal, faithful fans!"
Princess perfect cried to all throughout the land.
And as the kingdom came together and began to count the votes
Princess Perfect felt a lump deep in her throat.
"What the hell is happening?" She cried to her staff.
The totals made no sense to her and all had ceased to laugh
"This is impossible! He's pulling way ahead!"
Princess Perfect panicked and her soul filled with dread
"I am Princess Perfect! I know I cannot lose!"
But the kingdom voted and the crazy orange man they did choose.

Are you getting off or staying on?
He said without looking
His eyes to the ground
She didn’t respond
and he wasn’t looking for a response.
I looked him straight in the top of his head and said
I think that’s what she’s trying to figure out.

It sounded like the train had shut off its engine.
People paused their iPods to hear what was going on.
I wasn’t trying to be rude
and I don’t believe I was
but the people stared like I just called the pope a ******.

I’m sorry I feel no filial piety for a ******* bigot.
It must **** being old.
Bent over, begging for help
while insisting that you don’t need any.

A woman offered him a seat.

Randolf the bluenosed bigot
Much preferred to tell a lie;
Even if truth fit better
But he never quite knew why.
It was the way he grew up
Telling tales instead of truth.
It was the way his folks were
Ever since his very youth.

Lists of people are no good;
Black and yellow are the worst.
There is a list of who's okay.
White Republicans come first.
And if the truth is told here
Rights belong just to the white.
Granting rights to gals and gays
Never can be truly right.

Randolf thinks God's on his side.;
Made some of the people best.
Being Caucasian and Christian
Puts him ahead of all the rest.
Randolf thinks we all should do
What his religion says to do.
All of that crap about equality,
Randolf doesn't think it's true.

I was the frightened little kid
Who got pushed against the wall.
I wasn’t terribly masculine
Had acne and was not very tall.
Or maybe it was my intelligence
Or artistic talent that drew the ire.
It was an ever-changing list
That drew my fellow student’s fire.

Maybe it was that my game
Was never quite there for sports.
Or maybe when I did not join
On jokes about **** and other sorts
Of woman demeaning quips
They had to have learned at home.
Parental misguidance one oh one
Not learned at school on the roam.

Whatever it was, I got beaten
And locked inside my own locker.
And I got called ***** and ***.
Now isn’t that a big fat shocker?
I got shoved around in hallways
And knocked out cold by a creep.
I didn’t even know the ****
But he decided to put me to sleep.

And when the faculty was called
I was suspended along with the guy.
The school’s policy it seemed
Was to punish both kids. Ask why.
I asked and I was told sternly
That the school really did not care
The attacker and the attacked
Had the same punishment to share.

Now, in this case, the attacker was
Known to be a ruffian and a miscreant.
And I was known to be a wimp.
So why give me unusual punishment
When I was already being punished
For not being some kind of snorting ****?
This was like the school system
Giving my jaw an extra and official sock!

It would be nice to say about this
That it was a totally isolated incident,
And that principals seldom pass out
This officially thoughtless kind of punishment.
But I heard that line so many times
I could have lip-synched right along with him
As the principal mouthed a policy line
From a time grown distant and dangerously dim.

School gym coaches called us girls
If we didn’t keep up with hand-picked brutes
Who enjoyed inherited musculature
And bigot approved physical attributes.
So those of us who were who we were
And could not manage mow down the men
At the line of scrimmages
Were called ‘lils’ and fairies once again.

When a bigot is caught redneck handed
He is in two minds
Fight or flight
fly away from his bigotry
No I am not racist
Fight for his bogotry
Did you watch birth of nation
What about darwin
**** darwin
When a bigot is caught redneck handed
Show her no mercy
Black child
A thousand fold his hammer blow
Has backed you into a corner
Bite like a soweto pitbull
Teeth in
Grab and lock
Then pull
Side to side
As you step back
Letting go only when a chuck of the bigot is off his bone
When a bigot is caught redneck handed
Ask him to show you an sos
We sent to his forefathers
Begging for their so called civilazation
Misseducation
Polutted minds
And twisted souls
We were fine without them
Content under african sky
True bohemians
When a bigot is caught redneck handed
Go for the jagular
Angle for his ghastly soul
Destroy it
Cause no exorcism will succeed
His hate
Too deep
His crime will remain a crime
For time to come.
When a bigot is caught redneck handed
Remind her
She is the real beast.

You speak, the lies begin
Your words all talk of violence
It’s tragic.
How else could we explain
The presence of
Such mortal pain?
It’s tragic.

You open mouth to talk
And we hear crap.
With every word you say
You need a slap.

Somebody needs to sue
A nasty bigot such as you
You fascist.
We’d feel much better when
You’re locked away
From decent men
You racist.

You break a good soul’s heart
With each foul name
You utter from your face
It’s very plain;
You are a blotch upon
The goodness of
The human race.
It’s tragic.
We hear too much of you
And every freedom
You run through,
It’s tragic.

How can you sleep at night
With all the horror
That comes from you?
That sad thing here to say
There is no better day
With you.

The origin of prejudice has nothing to do with the other. It is about the unconscious self-hate of the bigot. If ever we wish to eradicate racism, we must come to that realization;  moreover, we must have the fortitude, the courage, to put our contempt for the racist's pernicious attitudes aside and love that racist to the point when the racist begins, for the first time, to feel loved to be able to love, not hate--a virulent form of prejudice--anyone else. This arguably is one of the most difficult tasks of even an enlightened individual, but is essential if ever we wish to have Peace on Earth forever, rather than total self-destruction.

TOD HOWARD HAWKS

He was a sad sort of man
And we let him exist
On the corner of our consciousness.
ignoring all his nastiness
And jokes calling women broads
And how he wanted to ******
And pinch them and stare
At them when they were naked.
We giggled at his ugliness
And displays of tacky wealth
And how he has so little
Of anything called class.

We called him an ***
And wrote him off in the seventies
As a silly arriviste fool
Who played around in school
And dodged the draft.
He was a joke fore and aft
But we underestimated
The danger of a snake
Slithering in the silence.
It can bite us just because
We were not looking at it.
And it is no help to ignore it.
No matter the excuses we make.
It is still a slithering snake.

We forgot to take into account
That some people like snakes
And take them as pets
Despite all the epithets
Of their neighbors and family.
They do so happily
Because there is something wrong
With people who handle snakes
And they usually shout about Jesus
Which I am sure he would hate.
But no problem, it seems of late
To them, Jesus was a bigot, a hater.
They must have read later
Some Bible we never saw
With a different set of laws
And advice. Really not nice.

I'm really not interested in your bigotry
It's not my fault that you've spent your life standing in judgement of others
You wouldn't recognise God even if you had bumped into Him at the supermarket
Because you're too busy trying to find the devil behind every rock

The bigot who knows only his bedding
and parades around preaching its threading
the world is not right he ponders so fiercely
he feels it's his duty to make them see clearly

slander so foul
tongue sharp and cruel
hate is a fire
his words are its fuel

you can't listen
it hurts!
you have to defend them
you want to yell back

you just want to end him

but what would come of it?
what would you do?
you try to change him
you're a bigot too.

Do we really say time brings change
Can we say it heals wounds
Can we say it breaks chains
Can we see us moving forward
Or do we only see the pain
Is there an answer to these questions
Or do we just lie and wait
As the weight of our burdens bear down on our claims
Do we even have a voice when they aint listen to the tapes
Do we even have a story if they just flip past the page
Can we even share secrets when the ground full of snakes
Do we chase every leak til were flooded with disdain
Does justice mean extortion why did snowden run away
Is corruption the focus when minorities are slayed
Are elections even fair if the poor man getting paid
To give his votes to the bigot that put him there in the first place
Is the seed that were planting ever sprouting something great
Or are we giving them a melting world and telling them to skate
Is realness an illusion cause being woke is just a trend
Do i sound like a fool
Spouting words without end
Cause just like sway im clueless
Im just speeding round the bend
Hoping i dont end up like schuma
confined to his bed
But if i do
itll be the only rest i ever get
You get the rest.

Sorry you're a worn out bigot.
I Guess I'll see you when I'm six feet under
or six states South.
We can pretend we're family then
=] .


There are two things I will never comprehend.

1. Why people have to have a bewildered reaction upon finding out someone in their life is gay.
Gay people exist and we're not urban legends.

2. Why people feel the need to call gay guys *******, we know what we are. If you're going to make a quick jab at me, tell me something I don't already know. *******.

Ignorance, fear, hatred and differences are what's ******* up the world.

You can say that everything is fine and that it's just a phase I'm in or even on a larger scale you can say that the blatantly ignored ******* hatred doesn't exist.

** Excuses don't explain anything. I know you have trouble sleeping at night, if I was evil, I would have the same problem.


I use to write for my high school newspaper, but after one year, I got kicked off for writing editorials like this.

to stay young in your heart you first should have one
and you better fill it up with some love
just a bit
because love is the secret ingredient
the pursuit of justice without love makes you cruel
the pursuit of truth without love makes you a heckler
the pursuit of god without love makes you a bigot
the pursuit of beauty without love makes you Humbert Humbert
power without love makes you a tyrant
honor without love makes you arrogant
wit without love makes you cunning
work without love makes you tired
care without love makes you brusque
talk without love makes you annoying
seriousness without love makes you boring
tenderness without love makes you mawkish
friendliness without love makes you fake
so
you better spice things up with some love
just a bit

.
She's like a drama queen,
Plays the 'blame game' like a loser,
Fair minded as a bigot,
Wages war like drones,
As free as surveillance,
As open as privatized prisons,
As equal as feudalism,
As rich as the beggar masses,
Bankrupt as homeowners,
Socialist as the military,
Truthful, trustful as "NEWS," as propaganda,
Pagan as the manufactured Goddess 'Columbia,'
Christian as the stingy,
Pious as a sinner,
Wicked as securities, exchanges on 'Wall Street,'
Insecure as an empire,
Greedy as a fast food glutton,
As brave as a fool,
Warmongering as a chicken hawk politician,
Machevellian as a coward,
As rigged as the free market,
As selfish as Capitalism,
As tolerant as Islam,
Beautiful as a clear cut forest,
Charming as a strip mall,
Forward thinking as chaos,
Lawless as congress,
United as a belligerent crowd,
Compassionate as a swat team,
Green as any petrochemical company,
Organic as pollution,
Deep as a strip mine  .  .  .
  .  .  .

when Merry Clayton
sings "Southern Man"
i think of all of you
and i think *******

and if i was Neil Young
i would start a band called Hateful Bigot
and Mike Watt would be the bass player
and i would write a song
called "social justice warrior"
(in all lower case)
and dedicate it to all the children that have been ***** by the gay mayor of your tiny house town
and Merry Clayton would sing that song

there is a parade in tiny house town
for everyone who's arrived 50 years too late to the civil rights party
and the  mayor is coming round
to shake your hand

all your tiny houses coming down
all your tiny houses built upon the sand
tiny, tiny houses get smaller and smaller before blowing down

everytime you shake his hand
you have even less to say
about all the children he *****
than the NRA

even less to say than the NRA
everytime the gay mayor rolls down the windows
before he rapes the children in his hot car
everytime he's comes around
to shake your hand
he's got ten dollars in his other hand

tiny, tiny houses blowing down
all your tiny houses built upon the sand
i can't wait til they come down
all your tiny houses coming down
tiny, tiny houses coming down

(nothing to do with the fact
he's a gay democrat
nothing to do with the fact)

Church
A place we call sacred
Though it is far from holy
Plagued by the lying,
Fake, judgmental, deceptive, wannabe,
Overly religious, ignorant, bigot, crazy,
Hypocritical curse upon society known
As Christian

A place said to be filled with love
So sadly love is not the first thing seen
Rather, we feel the ever-watching eye
Looking down because our clothes don’t
Seem as clean, our shoes are not free
From dust, our scars, they bring disgust

But not all who walk these golden
Streets of Christianity bring hate
Some do not raise their head so high

These few who know love
This minority who is actually true
They are the church

Even though these phony haters
Infiltrate the lovers’ ranks
They are not Christian
They are not the church
They’re nothing but arrogant imposters
And close-minded fools

A tree must bear fruit to be a fruit tree
Likewise a Christian must bring forth
Faith and hope and love
They must bear their fruit
Otherwise these Christians
Are not so Christian after all

So remember, the church is this group of
People who love, not the building
Filled who those who destruct

I
When you write down the word
"love," in a poem,
You say bigot words
like you are bigger than words.
Here comes the chest puff.

II
How is any body
or anything we make
like Frankenstein, bigger than words
Brothers say "permanent" like they say
"forever.”
That pervert stutter , let out with lust; they
taste their own wet
lipstick if it's Lutheran.  
Face paint for Hindu.  Making up rules
Because thems the rules.  

III.
After the second war
Frank Lloyd Wright built
houses for the young
men in uniform, well pressed by the years
we hardly mention
all of the flesh he has carved from the world.
Inconsequential, once they were dead
He is not remembering right
away, A live delay 
Remembers watching dad
On thanksgiving with the turkey and his knife
And thinks of stuffed gravy
When he has those dreams about drowning in the stomach guts.

IV
Infinity is a math, a faith
based on faith in numbers
to be counted, up and on
this is the fail safe city
and I can’t count past 100 without
losing count, every time
like god, I mean dad, I mean  

Space is the final front in the god game
you can sling it for pieces
And let them see light themselves
Make it new hell
An empty everywhere.
Not even, not odd.
The Repeating Integer heart.

V.
If you make it you broke it
already,when it mattered;
now it floats.
It’s a witch It’s a witch
Someone tell her she’s water
There's a pile of disowned sons
and daughters who watch Slavery **** on their laptops
every night in another pile.
Off the record, recording it, on the record
it skips where I need it
Living in filth.  Living here, in our own Dump.
Family dump and Feed hall.
The Dump is the one
Who lives on, and is our legacy,

A house that would be a house for just anyone
is a **** with a ******* for a father
And a father figure for lover type.
All the things we think we put time into
Are not containers and we don’t skew time
We barely keep track.  

VI
If you can be vague,
I can be vaguest, I guess
I could be some sort of zeitgeist and live
at that bus stop with the clock
in the corner. The one by the guy
with half his ****
out and that clock, metronome too quiet
to rock.  
This clock
which is just a clock, which is just a tool. Which means it was made for one
thing We made it.
my only sign that I am not from,
but of the time.  Which means I
where we did not
stop to look back for another
bus or Eurdydice soaking
into Hades' airway
because of Love.  She died
toes wrapped round a viper
who said nothing. Words
are the viper, not vague but
the death.  

VII
When you read aloud
and say
Love - without implied eyes
that roll, like dead do in the graves
you make everyone down there wish
for a bigger box
or viper.

When you start a line
without busting
out it starts like the middle of a stop
Not stopping, stopped.

You aren’t going to see me cry.
You aren’t going to see me cry,
not because I am not crying;
But you can’t see Me cry.

Some little boy has been stuck,
timeless and drifting through the
pre-war era’s of space -
Playing with plastic toy soldiers…

Don’t think that because I am eloquent,
don’t think that because I have gumption;
that I will spare you at the expense of myself.
I won’t over time
                               or ever more.

I will not be an expense to any man.
I set the price of my love: and it’s giving.
I hope it’s the same for you,
along with Reciprocating.

I will not be the daughter
                                              of lies
                                                           for comfort.

If you think that there are things in the dark,
then speak your truth and walk your talk.
Be brave.

A subscription for thoughts that you don’t want
is worst than death.
Better to ask the questions
and put your faith to the test.

I will not be a crushed lily under your thigh.
Though I may bruise, I heal myself with time.
I choose to turn towards the inventory of imagination.
I choose to wrap these arms around myself.
I choose myself in all my self-destruction,
because loving you and me is worth it.

Yes, it burns.

I will not run from my origins
even when you run away from me.
I will look at my ghost with her pockets.
I will look to see the day and it’s green hues.
I will acknowledge that sunset when it calls me…
Because I am worth loving.

You can’t take the thickness of my cry,
not because you don’t carry a handkerchief.
But because you hide behind the lies
that keep the blade in the sheath, tied.
A little girl is lying somewhere,
in her soiled sheets and I stand
besides her as she begs me to leave.

Somewhere these two children exist,
crying and playing with me.

Now we are all gown ups
and it’s easier to look away then to start
because the truth is that judgment is easier
                                                                            then crying.

Judgement is safe like not crossing enemy lining -

You won’t see me when I am crying.
Because you see all of the faces of the people;
who left you there dying.
While I am Rectifying.

You won’t see me, all of this raw treasure.
All you will see are;
plastic toy soldiers
and soiled bed sheets to render.

You won’t see me the other girl in the mirror,
whose world went shifting
because she couldn’t see the same missing tears.

You won’t see the youthful adolescent
who was happy to see her face drifting.

You won’t see that young girl who woke up
without a nose to breathe in the morning.

You won’t see the girl who ate dirt,
because she wanted to see if she was living.

You won’t see who begged for forgiveness.

You won’t listen to the voices she's heard on her journey…
and you will not have cried those first tears of her own self-birthing.

You will not have lived in the wilderness for months on end.
Sat still for days as you listened
nature - until your scars had mend.

You will not have watched my face in that mirror,
of a girl turning into a woman,

whose virginity was stolen

and who now defines
her own sense of defining purity = growing.

No, you won’t -
Because that’s my story.

You are in yours.

With your own actions and darkness,

I am just someone who plays a role.

I choose to be free in this moment.
I am me, and I choose to be free.
With all of my expressions of sin,
lust, defection…

I choose to see the truth of it all,
because that is the definition of perfection.
When the little boy can live without fear,
and when the little girl can see herself
standing next to him in the mirror.

Oh, there's not a country that don't have open racism.
It's breed in many regions and societies.
Except some confronts it.
Aware of reprisal to come.

While others embraces it.
Until they exposed on video or audio by some.

One race seem to be mastered of stupidity.
Cause they surrounded by various fools that let it floats around them.
Notice, how quick they speaks out when that bigot is busted?

Oh, its in politics.
It's in within many businesses.
And breed within multiple police departments.

From the top until the bottom.

Open racism, stands out like cancer.
It spreads quickly and faster than lightning.
Until its met by thunder of someone.

Then notice all the pleasantry toward the racist.
They  not a bad person.
Many misunderstood their views.
Yes, support for a fool.
Then many, are we?

Scriptures, contains them too.
And many ministers doesn't address this truth..
Afraid certain members might leave.

But never play to a disease.
Not if you're preaching love in Jesus name.

Be proud to be white.
Be proud to be black.
Be proud to be Latino.
Not to the point you called a racist.
That's not truly what proudness is about.

Be proud to be Italians, German, really any nationality.
Except not to the point of being called a bigot.
That defeats the purpose of what proud is about?

It's not about a flag  waving to create a disturbance.
Or pump fist with bad intention even if you're claiming it represent being united.

Be proud to be, whatever?
As long as it's serving a principle in life.

That girl, she's loud,
Ignorant and proud
Liar, **** and nasty
Controlling and feisty
Unlike anything ever seen
She's a she and so obscene!
So instead support the man
******, homophobe, bigot
That's ok, I am still a fan
Why? Cause he says it like it is
Objectifies women, grabs *******
He might be ignorant, loud&proud;
But he's a he so world, better watch out
He'll help all of us be great again
By flushing freedom down the drain
What can possibly be wrong with this plan
A bully building walls in disguise as a 'man'.

There was a man on the bus
today
with hostile eyes...
steely blue and suspicious.

The thirty something woman
across from me;
with black eye and split lip,
her's were wet with tears and fear.

A young couple
only had eyes for each other.
Glistening
with love and desire.

The bigot’s eyes
were all a glower;
hostile and condemning...
The couple was interracial.

The old woman’s eyes
tired with many years,
looked back with memories
and forward to release.

The little child’s eyes
wide with wonder
took everything in,
grist for the mill.

As I wander from
face to face,
I wonder what stories
my eyes offer?

Shall I compare thee to a winter’s day?
Thou art more cold and more desolate
Icicles **** springs bountiful bouquet
While winter delivers life a foul fate

Sometimes only by fluke warmth will wave by
And often melts the bitter cold away
And every snowflake that falls will melt; die
Either now or sometime far it will lay

But your never ending frost shall not fade
Nor ever lose the stone heart in your chest
Nor shall your ignorant soul accept aid
When your bigot mind never sees what’s best

So long as winter is harsh and clear to see
This will remind of the coldness in thee

Trust me when I say it
There’s no other way to play it
You’re a purentee bigot
There’s no other place to lay it
You might as well admit it.
It’s your shoe and you fit it.
I believe in the point and hit it.
You are a **** ******* bigot.
Now this won’t hurt much, did it?

It was your own tongue and you bit it;
Showed the world and all in it
That you are nearly an idiot
And a race-bating creep along with it.
So, instead of swallowing, you spit it.
You are a callow and traitorous bigot
Who would deny to others in a minute
The rights of citizenship along with it.
The Liberty Bell? You’ll pit it
With the sticks and stones. You did it
Every time you parrot a Fox News tidbit
As there are little but lies within it.
So, there is the door, why not hit it?
Because your illness? No one can mend it.
It’s a blow to your brain, and within it
The lack of anything more than a divot
Where your compassion should be if it
Had even the tiniest solid rivet.
Instead you are a peanut butter widget,
Not much more than stuff found in a privet.
And not much smarter than a piglet.

WALLS (Verona)
Mon ami tu vas
where star-crossed hearts' confessions
hides your saint in bricks.

NAPE
Warm whispers of lips
down smooth meadows of your neck,
my familiar bed.


VATTO
Gang signs, ink, and blood
****** in a low beamer
Cool kissing his gun.

BIGOT
Burning up with hate
like an oil spill on one's soul
heartless mouths pollute.

NIJINSKY
So divine such grace
words not made to embody
Ballet when God speaks.

OSMOSIS
Blossoms in winter
bursts of Japanese kisses
how to love haiku.

BLUR
Tears are no longer
loose and quick to disarray
how sight understands.

BARRIER REEF
Great walls dividing
Vast cold deeps from Summer seas
"Hail Metropolis!"

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.