"ferguson" poems
Last week, among friends black and white,
among some discussion of protests in Ferguson
and the related looting of stores, I invoked
the word. It was an admission, in a round
of confessions, of something about myself
that I didn't like: that I had perceived Michael Brown
in that way based on his possible participation
in a strong-armed robbery.
When Travon Martin was in the news,
I was inflamed like many others who wanted
George Zimmerman in jail for ******
The outcome of that trial was an injustice,
I was utterly certain. Why does this case
in Missouri feel different? More importantly,
Who is inside me that still wants to rise
in defiance of 48 years of learning how
to be a better person, a person without prejudices,
stereotyping, labeling of others, hurtful language?
Where is the hippie girl now? How does she live
with this other person? Am I Sterling, Gibson,
a hater and spewer of viciousness, a lover
of separation and separateness, that I should
invite damage to my own relationships
with those I love and cherish and respect?
What is a **** but a bully, and what is a bully
but someone who pushes words around like
weapons, spits them out indiscriminately,
so that they land on the already bruised heart
and set it on fire.
Whose heart, besides mine, now sits in smoke
and ash, with that word like a brand
still sore and permanent, having been spoken
aloud?
Aug 25, 2014
Aug 25, 2014 at 11:44 AM UTC
An Open Letter to Really Important People
The Old Dime Box, Texas Statement
A Manifesto Made Manifest in Manifesting Manifestingness
We post this serious looking document
Bloated with long vocabulary words
Sodden with weak dependent clauses
Marshaled in numbered ranks, down, down they go
To the GossipNet all serious like
And everyone has to pay attention to us
Because it’s AN OPEN LETTER, y’know -
You may sign it if you’ve got letters behind your name
Signatories:
Apostle-Disciple Magic Dawn, DD., Non-Binary, Author of Green Polar Bears I Am, Co-Equal-Director of the Anti-Oppressionist Theatre Against the Occupation, Agent of the Revolution, Auteur, Guest on The Wheel of Fortune and Parent of Two AMAZING children of indeterminate Gender with Their AWESOME and AMAZING Life-Partner Sven-Marie.
Massive Ferguson, M.Ed., Poet, Rector of Admissions, The University of Where the Old Circuit City Use to Be
Poncy Tworbst, M.A., PUBLISHED Author, Seeker, Inspirational Singer-Songwriter, PUBLISHED
Heather-Mistee La’ Thwitte-Tworbst, Ph.D., Director of Library Resources at Saint Margaret ****** Homeschool Resource Authority Collective, Inc., Certified Ordained Consecrated Priest in The Worldwide Church of Me-ness and Pastor of the World-Famous Weddings ‘R’ Us Chapel of Rainbow Dreams in Magdalena, New Mexico
Lawrence Hall, HSG, Thinker of Thinky-Ness and, Like, Stuff, Endowed Chair he found at Goodwill, His Mark: X
(Sean Ian Johann Johnson, MBA, J.D., Chief Photocopier Operator at Donald Trump University and Fashion Editor at Gun, God, and Guts Magazine, was not able to sign today; he is sharing a cell with other White House staff and patiently awaiting The Day of Greatness.)
Aug 22, 2018
Aug 22, 2018 at 3:48 PM UTC
☺☻╬☻
Finish the crackers --- grab a smoke . . .
of Ferguson my muse will sing.
A call to arms --- God’s fires to stoke;
let Truth and Freedom ring!
Take to the streets; avenge this wrong
and hasten the end of racist rule.
Justice, though it may tarry long
will find its target in the duel.
Young Michael Brown, like all true saints
found himself craving Swisher Sweets.
He robbed a store, whose camera paints
impartial portrait. In the streets
the thief refused to be detained
and so threw off police restraint.
Though sin escaped, the Law remained
and made a martyr of this saint.
The agitators did their thing:
inflaming thugs to smash and loot,
while racists baited hooks, to string
the press. Officials followed suit.
Angels, although not always kind,
do not display this attitude –
aware of how the police mind
responds to such ingratitude.
We ought to thank the police force
for showing mercy under stress.
The culprit chose a foolish course
and made a God-awful mess.
Prince Michael met ignoble fate
(that ghetto-Christ, that righteous youth)
His sacrifice in vain --- though great,
could not impede the march of Truth.
Ferguson, our eyes turn towards you . . .
are you now able to admit
while reality rewards you
that looting and lying ain’t ****
Sep 11, 2015
Sep 11, 2015 at 5:43 PM UTC
Know, that I would accounted be
True brother of a company
That sang, to sweeten Ireland's wrong,
Ballad and story, rann and song;
Nor be I any less of them,
Because the red-rose-bordered hem
Of her, whose history began
Before God made the angelic clan,
Trails all about the written page.
When Time began to rant and rage
The measure of her flying feet
Made Ireland's heart hegin to beat;
And Time bade all his candles flare
To light a measure here and there;
And may the thoughts of Ireland brood
Upon a measured guietude.
Nor may I less be counted one
With Davis, Mangan, Ferguson,
Because, to him who ponders well,
My rhymes more than their rhyming tell
Of things discovered in the deep,
Where only body's laid asleep.
For the elemental creatures go
About my table to and fro,
That hurry from unmeasured mind
To rant and rage in flood and wind,
Yet he who treads in measured ways
May surely barter gaze for gaze.
Man ever journeys on with them
After the red-rose-bordered hem.
Ah, faerics, dancing under the moon,
A Druid land, a Druid tune!
While still I may, I write for you
The love I lived, the dream I knew.
From our birthday, until we die,
Is but the winking of an eye;
And we, our singing and our love,
What measurer Time has lit above,
And all benighted things that go
About my table to and fro,
Are passing on to where may be,
In truth's consuming ecstasy,
No place for love and dream at all;
For God goes by with white footfall.
I cast my heart into my rhymes,
That you, in the dim coming times,
May know how my heart went with them
After the red-rose-bordered hem.
2.9k
The civil war's not over
The sides are re-arranged
Those who once were allies
Now, they are estranged
The uniforms don't matter
It's now the colour of their skin
That's put the country back
To when the trouble did begin
Slavery abolished?
Have you looked outside your door?
Just take some time and ask yourself
Just who you're working for
The civil war's not over
It didn't ever end
Just watch your local nightly news
and see it's continuing my friend
America is burning
The flames are getting higher
The country's feeding on itself
Throw more fuel on the fire
Ferguson and Baltimore
are the start of the new pyre
America is burning
Throw more fuel on the fire
One percent to ninety nine
That's slavery to me
It's not just racial segregation
There's more than that to see
The civil war's not over
It's continued rolling on
It will stay there in the background
It's the country's most successful con
Johnny comes marching home again...hurrah, hurrah
Johnny comes marching home again...hurrah, hurrah
The country will be burning when he comes
From a war where no one really won
As another town burns, for all the world to see
May 1, 2015
May 1, 2015 at 11:17 AM UTC
the year opened on two kinds of olympics:
Sochi and selfie.
we spent months looking for
one missing plane
276 missing girls,
and 43 missing students.
from Ukraine to Mexico,
Palestine to Venezuela,
to Ferguson,
the front of the battle lines
were crammed full.
their stories captivated us,
their movements motivated us.
we snapchatted, we vined and instagrammed,
we remembered their names.
Malala Yousafzai
to Mike Brown.
Eric Garner to Ebola.
we made some friends
and some enemies.
and I think,
when I look back,
years from now,
at the year 2014,
the first thing to come to mind will be,
"I was there."
Dec 31, 2014
Dec 31, 2014 at 10:00 PM UTC
I called to give you a rearrangement of irony and a bucket full of Jews, I tailor made a rebreather because the past connections were used . Indeed, just like a crossview that encouraged stars to collapse, then did a fix up for the X's and O's so every oxymoron followed with a laugh. A pail of shrubs, an ounce of yore, yesterday you were following your very own bated breath. Up until you challenged yourself to a duel, you didn't look so bad for a disastrous mess. Harms' Way could be the place in town where odds go to get even, or it could be the street where Blow-Pops aren't just made, but also handed out to toothless citizens. We the captured, please and thank you, sir and mam until our captors go, like if you imagine The Godfather in The Graduate, describing how the Komodo dragon roasts. We haven't made it thru a single day since they've come in packs of seven, but today we'll have the chance to share some face time with the hours that we are being given.
Misty-eyed, mournful, and very sorry walked in separately from the yard. They drank cold-filtered PBR and joked about all the kids they may have fathered. Has it been four weeks or just four days, since the Ferguson, Missouri Captain resigned his post? I was always taught that for a captain to go out, he or she must go down with their boat.
In time where boredom lays around with dynamite by the loads, tomorrow remind me of the basorexia I've had since we met not long ago.
Mar 15, 2015
Mar 15, 2015 at 2:39 AM UTC
Yes, I’m black
Look at my back
There you will see
The scars of slavery
Yes, I’m black
under attack
Police officers screaming
For me to step back
Yes, I’m black
Disgusted stares
death glares
As I walk down the street
Yes, I’m black
Hide your children from me
Run, run, run
From the beast that you see
Yes, I’m black
Headlights
Dark nights
Forced to fight
Yes, I’m black
Government hates me
Because I take a knee
For what I believe
Yes, I’m black
You can see me on CNN
Being handcuffed
And shoved into the back of a van
Yes, I’m black
What they once hated
The dark skin, curly hair
Our individuality now tainted
Yes, I’m black
Scared for our daughters
Too young to understand
why we’re being slaughtered
Yes, I’m black
Still wearing these chains
Slavery never ended
They just changed the name
Land of the free, home of the brave
You lie and say we’ve come along way
If you ask Ferguson, tears running down his face
Racism still lives, but tomorrow’s another day
Oct 4, 2018
Oct 4, 2018 at 4:08 PM UTC
They'll use Martin Luther King day to sell anything from mattresses to cars.
Even he has been ripped up and replanted,
capitalized, like Christmas or Easter,
by the people who give us images of a white Jesus,
but you bet they don't pay everyone equal.
We have boulevards, schools, and libraries named after King,
but streets over, we have Confederate soldiers carved into a mountain,
we call 'em heroes, that's what I was taught,
the ones who fought, the ones who ate lead,
But, they aren't talking about who really put a bullet in Dr. King's head.
What the **** is wrong with us?
America will go see Selma in millions,
this weekend, go back home to their all white neighborhoods,
thinking about how it was bad then, but now, it's all good.
Who are we really trying to fool?
Stand up for the pledge in school
Put your hand over your heart and forget
all this country denies you
telling you that there isn't a heart of a human beating inside you
because you're gay, you're black, you're not like that,
She was a flirt, she wore a short skirt,
Every day you try to heal the hurt
Justice for all? Like are you kidding me?
There ain't such a thing here as liberty
Do you know where you stand
was Native American land?
Ripped from their bleeding hands
And don't even get me started on Iraq and Iran.
You know that mountaintop?
The one I was talking about,
Did they tell you it was a KKK meeting spot?
Bet not.
I wonder, is the clay here red from all the blood?
We hide our history,
sing promises of liberty,
say that racism ended with slavery,
and it's Stonewall Jackson, he's a hero, they say
but never speak of Stonewall Riots any day
and I'm afraid for our children and what they will learn,
in classrooms, will they be silenced?
Come here kids, let me tell you a story,
of Ferguson, New York, Hong Kong,
about how people will look back and see they were wrong,
But some never did, some died with hatred,
some died because of it,
Let me tell you about homeless LGBT youth
Let me tell you about all these issues
Let me tell you the truth
And there are different ways of seeing it,
but only one way to say it,
you and I both know,
You just have to listen for it.
Jan 18, 2015
Jan 18, 2015 at 11:41 PM UTC
You three believe in creating scarcity,
NOT union.
You build HOV lanes for your luxury cars,
caring less how efficient they are.
They roll royce cross your game board,
fuming trails of money.
Bell Atlantic bought Madison Avenue,
you bought all the properties.
Now tenants can't avoid
the traffic or the noise
of an internet rolled in palms
and diced
spiraling
to speed limits
...
...
...
...
and red highways
...
...
...
...
and orange traffic cones that
block hybrid cars,
already swerving
to avoid bankruptcy.
We
STOP
the
STOP
people
STOP
moving,
our preamble crumbles to a
STOP,
becoming a eulogy —
an ideal dumb to power trippery,
after Time Warner and Comcast merged,
allies on opposite sides of the game board.
Verizon, Comcast, AT&T;
together you own pretty much
everyone but Fox and Disney,
(yet have invested in them heavily).
Verizon, Comcast, AT&T;
your oligarchy is
NBC, Universal, CNN, Warner Brothers,
and now FullScreen,
family-friendly nepotism
that inbreeds bearing
deaf drones bored of flying,
over
Why Beyonce is a Feminist.
or
Why Ferguson was racist,
media's offspring
just keep clicking,
the headline genocide victims
basking in concentrated lamps
for a sliver of attention.
Verizon, Comcast, AT&T;
Now you want the backend buffering,
bulging eyes and emptying pockets
of those Spocked into believing,
hyperspeed was ever necessary.
No choice when the exits are slow
and there are no backroads.
Verizon, Comcast, AT&T;,
offspring of the
Bell Atlantic Company,
we will not let your
****** populate the internet.
Call it Capitalism,
but your playing Monopoly,
yanking the carpet underneath
to the wood of Tyranny.
You shamed
Bell's invention
by stringing together
telephone
internet,
and
entertainment companies
until you could be lazy.
Monkeys who spent millions
to shriek at government parties
about the communication machine,
a system downloaded so slowly,
we
did
not
act
on
cons
piracy
theories,
when Amazon made online shopping so easy.
Dear Internet Service Providers,
so called ISP's,
WE ARE DONE playing Monopoly.
Our collective voice
will shout blasphemy
on your streets,
hashtagged
net neutrality,
till you're counting pennies.
So empty your Washington banks
cause it's 3 a.m. and
no ONE is winning.
Nov 6, 2014
Nov 6, 2014 at 3:09 PM UTC
i am an ashamed american. this
is supposed to be the land of the free.
please. tell me what is free about ferguson,
missouri. is freedom enlisting three
policemen for an armed white protest and
hundreds of riot police for a peaceful
colored one? please. tell me what is free?
why is racism a 21st century problem?
Nov 24, 2014
Nov 24, 2014 at 9:55 PM UTC
They had just buried Henry Ferguson today. He was such a handsome and generous young man. Everybody in the town felt so sad when they heard that he had died.
Away he's gone.....
Away he's gone.....
Cold was his gravestone...
Young Sarah Breinnan cried all day long.
Young Sarah Breinnan grieved all night long.
Her beloved fiancé had died.
Life seemed like a threat.
Away he's gone...
Away he's gone...
Now she's on her own...
One cold night Sarah was ready for bed. When she heard someone knocking on the door. She opened it, to her surprise. There he was....
Her dead fiancé...
Standing in front of her...
Looking into her eyes deep...
With his gaping hollow eyes...
All rotten... All bone...
Worms crawling across his face...
In and out....
In and out...
''I can not die now'' he whispered...
Such an eerie voice...
''I love you too much.....''
More worms crawled out of his mouth as he spoke.
''Marry me, Sarah Breinnan......''
Oh the stench his body emitted was terrible...
He reached out to take her hand.
And she fainted...
So beautiful was she...
She had blossomed into a beautiful woman...
The dead man bent down to touch his lover's face...
With love his tapering fingers danced across her *******
He kissed her gently, picked her up off the floor.
And he walked away, dissapearing into the fogs....
Among the dark silhouettes of trees...
Never to be seen again...
*Sarah.... Sarah....
Could you hear me...???
I was calling you from my hollow grave...*
Dec 3, 2010
Dec 3, 2010 at 2:56 PM UTC
Isn't about the hatred of another person
Isn't about screaming opinions at the top of your lungs
Isn't about attacking others
Social Justice
Is about standing in the middle of a crowded room and shouting what's right as they shout what's wrong
Words flowing
Blood pumping
Screaming about Baltimore and Ferguson
White people crying wolf while blacks cry fear
Social Justice
Is the construct that is refused because it's right
And we know it's right
But refuse to believe it in all of its glory
May 4, 2015
May 4, 2015 at 3:14 PM UTC
I boarded the train at the rush hour peak.
like hundreds of others at the end of the week.
Darkness came quickly at this time of year
It was Pearl Harbor day and Christmas was near.
Dark was my skin and dark was my heart
and dark was the drama in which I’d play my part
In a brown paper page I carried my gun
with enough ammunition to **** the white ones.
Out near Merillon Station, I stood up from my seat.
Whites had ruined my life and revenge would be sweet.
Like a deadly conductor I walked down the aisle
punching everyone’s ticket, high caliber style.
Their screams were my music; their fear was my meat
I served it up raw with blood on the seat.
It took three to subdue me once I emptied my gun
If they hadn’t overwhelmed me I’d have killed everyone.
Six dead, nineteen wounded, some trampled they say.
as the whites in the car started running away.
I sit here in prison with no hope of parole
in this place I am known as the conductor of souls.
( Colin Ferguson and the L.I.R.R. massacre 12/07/1993)
Nov 15, 2011
Nov 15, 2011 at 10:50 AM UTC
Everyone
is born pure,
I think.
Imagine red-hot
****** metal.
Clay is given to two
people. Two.
Sometimes one person leaves.
The metal is too hot.
Hey, this isn't for me,
he or she says.
Shame if it's the mom.
Push it out. Check out
of the heartbreak motel.
But it's all the same,
I suppose:
Mom or dad.
Red-hot ****** metal,
sitting at the playground.
Teacher says,
Play with the other kids.
Teacher says,
Does the world seem big
because it's so scary?
Teacher says,
What is your nature?
Teacher says,
Play with the other kids--
think of it as
networking.
Time to graduate.
You ******* queer,
said the news.
Yeah you,
said the news.
Look over here,
said the news.
Bombs, **** *******
******* ***** spics,
****** school shootings,
drugs, suicide, famine,
STDs, rap music, Jews,
Obama, Putin, North Korea,
Ferguson,
said the news.
By the way,
said the news.
Have you seen
Miley Cyrus'
nip slip,
said the news.
Graduation night.
Rumbling 'round the
warm, bath water
city lights.
Her hand in his.
She looks over,
What is your nature?
I had a teacher
ask me that,
he said.
They ****** underneath
an apple tree.
This is what the rain is for.
What?
This is what the rain is for.
To get us wet?
No, ********
Because I already
had you wet.
Ha-ha. Very funny...
No, it's for washing away
memories of ***
under a tree.
Birth.
Two people. Two.
Let's name him,
she said.
Let's fail him,
he said.
Apr 10, 2015
Apr 10, 2015 at 8:35 PM UTC
( Song )
Europe in the dark age, was swept by an ignorant plague
While Ireland was known for poets, scholars, and saints
Invaders, would have Éire destroyed while only hurting themselves
For it was the Celts, who taught poetry to ancient Greece
They tried to burn her culture down
But the ashes of Ireland proved fertile ground
Green is the pearl, seed of the vine; great garden
Love Songs of Connacht
Beaten, almost forgotten she was
Her sons sent off to the colonies
And Ná Fíle; her poets, became beggars in the streets
They tried to burn her culture down
But the ashes of Ireland proved fertile ground
Thank you Lady Gregory!
Thank you A.E.!
Thank you Will. B. Yeats!
Thank you Ó Rathaile, Ó Carolan too!
Thank you Mr. Synge!
Thank you most of all Douglas Hyde
Green is the pearl, seed of the vine; great garden
Love Songs of Connacht
They tried to burn her culture down
But the ashes of Ireland proved fertile ground
Thank you Lady Gregory!
Thank you A.E.!
Thank you Will. B. Yeats!
Thank you Ó Rathaile, Ó Carolan too!
Thank you Mr. Synge!
Thank you Standish Ó Grady, and Pearse!
Thank you Connolly, James!
Thank you Merriman, Ferguson too!
Thank you Rua Ó Súlleabháin!
Thank you James Clarence Mangan!
Thank you Tommy Davis!
Thank you most of all Douglas Hyde!
Of all the nations of the world
Only Ireland's dream is a poet's dream
Green is the pearl, seed of the vine; great garden
Love Songs of Connacht
Great garden
Love Songs of Connacht
Jun 6, 2015
Jun 6, 2015 at 10:17 PM UTC
As a Sports Illustrated model it's no secret that she has the ability to turn heads.
So as Hannah Ferguson marked day 30 of LOVE magazine's video advent she did so in smouldering fashion to ensure her debut was not easily forgotten.
Showing off her moves to the sound of Drake's Hotline Bling, the 23-year-old owned the shoot as she cavorted in a slashed corset dress.
Whipping her hair back and forth, Ferguson appeared to forego underwear beneath the daring form fitted number.
Becoming the definition of sensual, a pair of sheer stockings and Giuseppe Zanotti black patent leather lace-up stilettos completed the cover girl's look.
With her hair worn in its natural state, the beautiful blonde's striking blue eyes are lined with kohl liner while her pout is coated in a shade of **** lipstick.
Preened to perfection, the two minute clip is formatted in slow motion as the Texan beauty, who resides in the Big Apple, seductively gyrated on the floor.
In the film Hannah also displays her comical side as she flashed her pearly white while attempting to do the 'Stanky Leg' dance.
Ferguson's debut sees her join the likes of Kendall Jenner, Cara Delevingne, Rita Ora and Adriana Lima who all featured in the 2015 edition of the online countdown to the new year.
The LOVE magazine advent calendar, now in its fifth year, has seen an influx of 8.2 million views since launching on December 1.
read more:http://www.marieaustralia.com
www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses
Dec 31, 2015
Dec 31, 2015 at 2:20 AM UTC
Forget laws.
They are but social expedients.
Take, for example,
PLESSY v. FERGUSON,
the 1896 landmark decision
of the Supreme Court
that made "separate but equal"
the law of land and ushered
in the patently ugly and unjust
JIM CROW laws in the Deep South.
It took until 1954--58 years--to right
this egregious ruling with the unanimous
decision of BROWN v. BOARD OF EDUCATION.
Forget laws.
Always go to your heart
to find the moral--the correct--decision
of all disputed matters. Laws can be flagitious,
but in your heart, you will always find truth.
TOD HOWARD HAWKS
May 16, 2023
May 16, 2023 at 10:56 AM UTC
Fires in ferguson
Bridges in Brooklyn
The youth in the streets cry out in unison
Hands up
Don't shoot
A young man took twelve bullets
Because he was brown
Battered bodies on the ground
This countries streets are paved in glass
and blood
The air we breath is tear gas
And polluted by discrimination
We are connected by rage
And in this day and age
We are convicted by fear
The civil servants drive armored vehicles
The oppressed pay takes to the oppressors
Who pays for the tank that the city bought?
Who pays for the policeman's bullets?
How hard is it to live without fear of death from your own government.
ISIS is less threatening
Than the grand jury
This story keeps coming back into our history books. Trayvon Martin,
Michael brown,
Emmet till
I am no longer proud to be american
We all live in
MISsouERiY
Nov 25, 2014
Nov 25, 2014 at 2:05 PM UTC
two hundred years ago
or so
this title might have read
"America", etc.,
according to the myth
that then was strong
and still exotic
and promising to aliens
with no experience
today, after Wounded Knee, the Trail of Tears,
the Civil War, the Restoration, all the lynchings,
after Vietnam, Grenada, Panama, Nicaragua,
the Gulf, Iraq, Afghanistan,Lybia, Syria & cetera,
Ferguson, Baltimore, & cetera,
"America" has disappeared
it has, in fact, become quite evident
that to subsume the continent
on the far side
of the Atlantic or Pacific
with this name
will do no more
in truth, it rarely ever did
the mythic notion
of a just and free society
was definitely buried at My Lai,
Panama City, on the desert plains
of Kurdistan, the Baghdad prisons,
and Guantanamo
by racist violence & arrogance
and pitiful ideas of white supremacy
the usa today lies bare
of the old promise of 'America'
street people, rampant fundamentalists,
drugs, and low employment rates,
in a society that longs
despite its cherished myth
of tough but honest competition
for holy war in order to rebuild with profit
what it has destroyed with arms
that, to all evidence, cares not
a penny's worth for
the unbuildable
which never shows in the domestic census
or for the lives of others but their own brave boys
preferably white
who have in recent years
though with increasing discomfort
upon appointment by their country's presidents
achieved the dreary fame
of bombing back into the stone age
distant lands that had
just barely begun
to make it out from there
* * *
May 14, 2015
May 14, 2015 at 3:13 PM UTC
I learned at age 8 the colors of the rainbow
Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Blue, Indigo, Violet
I stared at each picture, curious of the colors
Mrs. Ferguson said that together, we make a beautiful rainbow
And I memorized it.
I learned at age 13 grade that I was gay
Each boy slow danced with their girl
I stood in the corner watching
Isolated, ashamed, in the dark
And I memorized it.
I learned at age 16 that my parents didn’t accept me
Battered and bruised
I could feel the spit of Confucius on my wounds
I could feel the yin and yang twisting my spirit
I could feel the burns from the flames from my ancestral shrine
And I memorized it.
I learned at age 20 how the other men felt
Blogs and wikihows lied to me as they told me to find solace in the gay bars
Their eyes followed me like I was a hanging chicken at a street booth
Disgusted
Drunk men announcing their Asian fetish to me
As if I were a dish to prove their exotic tongues
The rice queens sitting proudly on their thrones
As we, the subjects, are shackled and exposed
To their adventurous acceptance
And I memorized it.
I learned at age 23 the colors of the rainbow
Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Blue, Indigo, Violet
As I stared at the Pride Flag, I remembered
Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Blue, Indigo, Violet
I stared
Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Blue, Indigo, Violet
They stared
Red, Orange, Green, Blue, Indigo, Violet
Red, Orange, Green, Blue, Indigo, Violet
Red, Orange, Green, Blue, Indigo, Violet
Yellow
And I memorized it.
Sep 12, 2015
Sep 12, 2015 at 3:19 PM UTC
I’m sick of this
melancholy
genocide
****
deforestation
feeling like I could
do something about it
terrorism
fascism
despotism
when I’m just a man
halfway around the world
Ferguson
police abuse
riots
and feeling alone
in a world full of people
racism
sexism
income gap
crises just replace each other
like a revolving door
did you know Manson’s still alive
dreaming of Helter Skelter?
crusade
slavery
apartheid
I am so sick of it!
if I just go back
to living my life
and forget about it
ignorance
apathy
privilege
would anyone really
be hurt or even care?
……
NO
No
no
this is not me
I am melancholic
because of this world
but I can do something
because this world exists
and this world matters
I am small here
but I exist
and I matter
so I can do something
even if it’s
insignificant
I swear
I
can
do
something
Aug 12, 2015
Aug 12, 2015 at 4:06 AM UTC
Some days we'd lay about the milled plank deck
eyes to the sky
shoulders pinned
deliberating
on the hickory trees
and pillow clouds
and heavenly contrails
the warm caress
of a mid-summer wind
whispering through the hayfields
coondog at our side
sandhill crane still
feet in the shallows
of the Haldimand pond
a soft trickle coming
from the Pickerel stream
creaks from the woodshed whistle
as the Massey Ferguson
putters her way
up the county line
catharsis in place
(in this ethereal space)
just a garden variety day
...with fire ants
and fowler toads
and golden honey bees
Aug 20, 2021
Aug 20, 2021 at 2:40 PM UTC
When white men spit hatred through spiteful lips,
what will you do? Will you raise your fists?
When a white man kills a black teen without blinking,
will you turn from protests to riots without even thinking.
You want to prove something?
Prove that there is nothing a white man could do to break the black community.
Show that you will never fight fire with fire. Keep MLK alive, let him live in your city.
Beat hatred unconscious with love, and drown it in peaceful protest.
For, Mike Brown's death was only a test.
Dec 18, 2014
Dec 18, 2014 at 9:04 AM UTC
Stop before crossing the street,
look both ways for landmines,
my father on the battlefield
where this killing is justified,
from resident streets in ferguson
to gaza strip homicides,
My palms clasped tight in prayer,
from humanity's suicide
Aug 26, 2014
Aug 26, 2014 at 7:09 PM UTC