Let’s play house
Without the home.
It’s all arranged so prettily
No mess, no fuss,
No dusty hairball under the couch
None of the huff and puff
To blow a life down
Just learn to float on the surface
No need to swim in the deep
Keep it all to memes
Or 30-second bleeps
Nothing more needed
With all things clean
More delicate than our dying Earth,
The fragile blood of our children dries,
Blistering in a baking sun
While we watch
Our babies gasping
Like hooked fish.
Our humanity broken,
We are wooden pawns
In the game of masters,
Men who would be kings
Posturing outrage
Over plans known
By them alone
Made in black secret rooms,
Selling us all to Mephistopheles,
Trading on the fragility of our attention
With the lives of our children,
Who made us human.
Nothing is left to wonder at,
But if this is the day
Humanity made
God tearless.
Spun out from the centrifuge
Twisted in helix meaning
Strands entwined, twisted back
Stretching toward history within heritage
Search through the montage of time
Sift through pounds of truth and lies
For a few ounces of purity
Measured out within the mess
The now was the past
Where to walk
We travel back
On twisted helix roads
To the selves we were
So very long ago
And learn
The future braided
In the past
With the now
And made us whole
The Lady went dark,
feeling the decline.
The dawn trembled,
as the power of the mother raised
a sisterhood united.
While the capricious one
and his band of merry fools
turned tiny hands
to the magician’s tools
of distraction and deflection,
whipping their devout disciples
to a rabid, foamy hate,
ready to trample their different siblings.
Thus, the mother within the sisterhood
and a faction of the brotherhood
joins them to rise,
persisting in resisting
to protect a nation
for the next generation.
The once silenced sentiment
Finding voice in our modern age
Now screams in rage:
BUILD A WALL
WHITE POWER
MY PRESIDENT SAYS WE CAN KILL YOU NOW
GET OUT OF MY COUNTRY
And on it goes
Until an absence of color
Signifies ownership
Of Justice whose scales were sold
And tore off her blindfold,
Of Liberty whose anger more than scorched,
That book of law before that torch
She turned and hurled into the Caspian
To douse the betrayed flame.
Robes torn, heads covered in ashes
Justice and Liberty now sit on the ground,
Crying out:
With headstones overturned
And threats to Abraham’s schools,
How long before another night
Of broken glass?
With two now dead in Crescent City,
How long before the crosses burn
As the noose is placed round
The necks of Nubians
How long before the crosses twist,
And on them, shepherds are tied
And left in the cold to die, crucified?
When did the colors of our flag turn:
Red, White, and Black?
Trash by the curb
Cardboard boxes nested
One within the other
Standing upright, resting
Against the edge of the smallest,
An old collage Walmart picture frame,
Matting included,
Old photos still within the frame,
A wedding, a first baby then a second,
Graduations and first cars,
Pictures telling a story of a family,
Colors faded by the sun
Having spent years by a window
Rend the earth again
Tear, rip through miles of rock and soil
Till the swollen, rounded,
core lies exposed
Bubbling, glowing,
Sputtering out
Reaching tendrils of itself.
Note the flow,
Time the pulses of heat,
Beating with undulating life seen and unseen.
Then watch the viscous liquid cool,
Solidifying against the pain
Of each cold breath you expel
Stilling the beat of life.
The transformation to cold, hard stone
Within the earth’s crust
As thus,
A mother’s heart,
Torn open once too often,
Stops.
Place the saddle,
Force the bit,
Ride us all
As you wish.
For that’s your dream
To feel such power,
As you surely never felt
Surge between your thighs.
But now the blood flow to the brain
Must be your impediment,
For you to blunder and believe
We could be fooled, trained, broken
To your prideful will
By whipping us with hate
And all the while saying
It is for our own good
To know our place
Till we become beaten slaves,
Smiling, nodding, shuffling on,
Muted and grateful you own us
Since we, at least, survive.
While you, smug and smiling,
Play the benevolent, loving master,
As is the lie of your fantasy.
Cloaked in liberty won
In the blood of our history,
We watch
Your strutting, angry buffoonery
As we stand proud,
Refusing the saddle and the bit,
Fighting against the whip,
We will not smile
We will not nod
We stride and march,
Rejecting everything
You would twist us into
As you claim to make
Our nation great once again
We rise to free our nation
From you, the enemy of democracy,
As is the reality.
What we know of words upon a page
Read, learned over again until sated
In the richness found
Then turn to the electronic blue haze
Where even words resonate, echoing fade
For the sweetest lies hate mongers craved
Swoon over one hundred forty plastic flowers
Like the words of a lover’s refrain
Written once too often in wooing others
As cheap plated jewelry’s shine
Turns black in the bitterness
On the day the Mother of Exiles cried
For the words beneath her feet crumbled
And the book she holds nearly fell,
Upon its cover, the date when something pure,
Something of meaning and hope was born
No longer revered, respected, held dear
By those with a need to instill hate and fear.
The Mother raised her head,
Found her footing once again,
Held close her book of law
When she saw the children of her nation arise,
Stand strong against the peddlers of fear
And by their numbers shout a resounding, “NO!”
The captain of industry forgets his history
As a populous forgets all the tales of prophecy
While writhing in the seduction of lies.
Thus, all the best in humanity is left behind.
Water boarding, black sites, torture now promised.
Yes, the captain says to let the horseman ride.
The angry world forgets
The path of anger makes the “world blind.”
Yes, the captain says to let the horseman ride.
The sun dons a robe of sackcloth, grieving
The ocean’s rasping last breath,
As the moon’s face rained blood tears,
Turning rivers red.
Yes, the captain said to let the horseman ride.
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