Tag: poetry

SPLIT no more

I had a vision
that I had fallen into
a great and dark sea
and above that sea
there were beings, flying
white and frantic
“What have you done?”
they exclaimed
but in an instant I saw it all
this was the White man’s sewer
where he stole his flight from
it was a maddening sadness
Black faces rushed by me
packed so close
despairing and manic
but also there was
utterly tender
and real
so freely given

four African women held me
caressing me
and the being from above
called out to me
“You must fly!”
but the African women raged back
vicious and protective
in their eyes there was
zero trust of the white fliers
and yet they cared for me
they saw that I had stopped flying
because I wanted to
because it’s bullshit
always above
always progressing
always running
always more

I know now how we’re split
and how the White fools steal the wings
of the noble others below
so they can all be

now the White fliers
the thieves of air
are suddenly seeing
their wings go soft
fewer, fewer fliers above the sea
but on they chant!
(at whatever cost)
(at whatever cost)
(at whatever cost)
(at whatever cost)

but oh those fliers they do not know
if only once they were to land
on the bottom
to be the slur
to be the ignored
to be the slave
to be the used
they would find the thing they are trying to fly up to
which is peace
and rest

now becomes the great balance
up must fall
down must rise
there will be blood
there will be sighs
there will be terror
there will be fear
there will be horror

but just by being in that great sea
for a few minutes
I saw that
horror was the color of the sea
for a very long time
and now that color will return
to those from which it came
and that hopeless sea will become
a great and verdant land
a novel Eden for the people
no heaven
above us
only sky

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a poem

Too weak to be dark
the people are GREAT!!
terrified of truth
they cling to simple fantasies
I’m a good person!
Things are getting better!

everyone is too responsible and busy
to have what should be a collective
a wailing over the end
but it’s a “This is fine”
burning house cliche

with plastic in our hearts and brains
everywhere we turn is a painkiller
to dull the message

but through the hazy narcotics of easy TV
and all those
I’m a good persons
we hear instead “maybe you should like I dunno not be like that…”

we go to our medical professionals and say
“There’s this dumb voice that is so stupid and it’s invasive! What do I do?”

“More painkillers!” says the esteemed medical professional
“These are new, they’re different, they don’t make you feel so bad”

And back home you go, relieved! “Now I can just do anything I want while the world burns. What a relief! What’s on Netflix? Oooooh this looks sooo funny!”

Too weak to be dark
the people are GREAT!!
terrified of truth
they cling to simple fantasies
I’m a good person!
Things are getting better!

While the wall of fire between us and safety
grows thicker
every day
every hour
every minute

we’re too responsible
and, well, just too busy you see I have this thing and yeah I can’t really commit to that, maybe next year?

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I feel very
not of this world
It’s a heavy truth of a boulder to roll
but I know
that love has found a way
I know
that love has found a way

And so
to those few flyers flying with me
the angels of precedent
the rock stars of the heavy vision
I am made glad and whole
by your lights
The abyss is illuminated
and not as empty
because of our together
Our sparse band of children
playing while the others wail
the gnashers and the doomed
Oh instead
we swing and dance
and SHOUT!

Love has found a way
Love has found its way
Oh thank you thank you thank you to
my others of
another world

Tear the tape, cut the chains

If you can’t break the law
you won’t see God
because whatever God is, it’s illegal
and so is truth
but now we are safe
and predictable
the tree of the knowledge of good and evil
has been eaten to death
a barren desert expands forever
where Eden once lived
but inside each of us is a well of pure water
with chains and yellow police tape
stretched across it saying
and the prophets said
when God is outlawed
only outlaws will know God
and so when the zombies come
to put the chains back over the well
after they have left
I will take out my bolt cutter secret drugs and rituals
my hormones and sacrilege
and get back to drawing water

On the bottom

People who are really
on the bottom
don’t want to be helped first
no, first they want to be witnessed
they don’t want to be invisible anymore
people stop listening to you when you’re
on the bottom
they treat you like you’re useless
but they still do fake niceties with you
with exquisitely furrowed brows
some people
on the bottom
cling to the fake niceties
and exclaim “I’ve found love!”
but then the niceties will evaporate
and they’ll be alone in the desert of Division Ave
realizing their oasis was sand

and the privileged
on their news TV
will gather round in circles
with perplexed faces
they pensively say
“why are the poor so sad?”
“why are black people so angry?”
“why are trans people so radical?”
“why do they not behave?”
if any single one of those
panel members
actually saw a black person
for what they really are and represent
if they lived as a trans woman
if they lived a decade in poverty
without hope of end
if from birth they fought within their soul
for an ounce of self-respect, often losing
they would immediately resign
and realize the questions are unanswerable
on purpose

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Master Addicts Fear the Slave

White people have a hard time talking
about race
White culture is mostly just a terror
a fear that we can’t survive
on our own merits
after borrowing from and dominating
other peoples
for so long

We fear the pain that every human needs
We are addicted to being masters
and a master without a slave
is less than a human

When I lost so much privilege
I freaked out
and didn’t know how to survive
I learned
We can learn
We can sober up
but right now it’s just a terror
a running in circles from ourselves
a “HI! I’M GREAT! HOW ARE YOU?!” greeting
with nervous eyes
and a hungry mind

Hang out on the bottom for a while
and God will come
but not the silly white Jesus the masters invent
The one love and one global family God
The peace in your soul God
cause you know you can just relax
be honest
and smile

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and I realized
that I would never truly die
this would go on
an eternity of maintenance
the never ending tune up
and so I was terrified
and ran screaming to my fairy tales
like fairness
and truth
praying for an end

but slowly I saw
that this was an ending
nowhere to go
always fine
nothing to win nothing to lose
a dreamless void of love
called god

while others praised their mania
I smiled
and got to work
becoming the now

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Starships of the secret power

the poor
stricken with unfortunate weight
cattled through life
find power in the secret now
because they have to
or they will be swallowed up

there is a defiance
a defiance required to generate enough power
to never become what society expects for you
the lifetime fall
an oblivion of apathetic self-destruction

the poor and reviled
they must will their self-respect
like a starship
trying to escape the event horizon
of a black hole

Laozi said the Dao, that secret power
“dwells in places the masses of people detest”
and so the secret power is in the ghettos
because it has to be

the privileged rich have no need for power
unless it is purchased
they lead their diet Disney lives
where God is animatronic

their alternator’s shot
the wealthy dead inside
they stalk the poor like vampires
creativity on import

the secret empowered are all around
but they are often slandered
“Only a stupid artist!”
“Drug addict!”

but because they must
these rockets will continue to rise
angelic twice born butterflies
these rockets will continue to rise

The scream

There is a scream
Underneath a ruptured seam
A forlorn goddess dream
against the craven
Anti-sage parade
Of little men on piles of dirt
Oh Timothy how were you right
That these the always learning
Without truth
The swinging saviorless
Lovers of the form
Unseeing formless
Always anxious
Unmoored vexed
Perplexed by virtue

But yet the scream will go on
Growing louder
Shaking, rumbling undulation
Bravado to the meek
The first will be last
The crown is cast

The scream goes on
Sweet mother ground
An Earthless void sings

The force is back
To remake the world with love
The faithful dance in expectation

The scream bereaved no more

Is loosed

Waves and particles

With one eye we see the particles
With the other, the waves
Materialists see with the particles eye
Ultra Spiritualistic types see with the waves eye
Both are blind
Only those who see through both eyes are balanced
Particles and waves
Running to either extreme is dangerous
Although running to the particles eye only is extra dangerous
We are moving into an exploration of the particles eye as a people
This is natural and a necessary exploration
But if we forget the waves eye
We will shatter, unglued, no cohesion
All of us have the power to perceive both, but sometimes one of the eyes is atrophied
It is our purpose to balance these
One foot in the particle world of science
One foot in the wave world of God

May you find the power of balance