Monday, April 29, 2019
Put The Screen Down
Black kids dropping like leaves in the Fall
If they ain't dead sweep 'em into a stall
Easily thrown away if you crush soul to a ball
But that don't matter 'til it comes to touch y'all
Look around, gun violence in the CHI everyday
Silent sandpits and jungle gyms, nobody to play
Better news, look like yous' and rockin' AK
'Cause our government's been bought by the NRA
Enfranchised whiny bitches want else to blame
When the root of your problems is a fucking shame
Chin down, shoulders slouched, I don't feel bad for you mane
Cause the truth of it all is you suffer from lame
Put down the mouse and keyboard it's 3 at night
And you ain't disenfranchised, you're a whiny ass white,
Go outside, get some sun, meet some people and might,
Realize it's yourself that your trying to fight.
Wednesday, January 9, 2019
Let Your Wounds Heal
I told them you've got to give your wounds air or they will fester.
But they live in the swamp.
Densely packed with potential predator hiding spots.
Ready position up at all times.
Their neck got tired of sweeping the floor so they put eyes and snakes on it in a bluffing display butterflies would blush at.
It buys them the second take of predators but doesn't always work so they build walls.
I told them you've got to give your wounds air or they will fester.
They paint themselves with a cloud of loud music, telling the world they are as serious as the song sounds.
They dance along the street, winding a circular line-in-the-air with their swirling arms.
With a serpentine stroll and the torso of a toy soldier, they paint their chin up to the sky, dangling their throat into public, daring someone to call it a vulnerability.
The walking equivalent of sleeping with one eye open.
I told them you've got to give your wounds air or they will fester.
Subconscious survival strategies stifle real strength.
Even the snake on their neck should be able to stretch out every once in a while.
They shed their skin and bear a fresh novelty to the world.
I told them you've got to give your wounds air or they will fester.
May they find the time and safe space to take that leap
from the thirty-thousand-foot-view into the unknown
other side of their walls,
giving a parachute to their free-falling inner trooper
so they can
show themselves
the compassion
to switch out
of
sympathetic mode.
But they live in the swamp.
Densely packed with potential predator hiding spots.
Ready position up at all times.
Their neck got tired of sweeping the floor so they put eyes and snakes on it in a bluffing display butterflies would blush at.
It buys them the second take of predators but doesn't always work so they build walls.
I told them you've got to give your wounds air or they will fester.
They paint themselves with a cloud of loud music, telling the world they are as serious as the song sounds.
They dance along the street, winding a circular line-in-the-air with their swirling arms.
With a serpentine stroll and the torso of a toy soldier, they paint their chin up to the sky, dangling their throat into public, daring someone to call it a vulnerability.
The walking equivalent of sleeping with one eye open.
I told them you've got to give your wounds air or they will fester.
Subconscious survival strategies stifle real strength.
Even the snake on their neck should be able to stretch out every once in a while.
They shed their skin and bear a fresh novelty to the world.
I told them you've got to give your wounds air or they will fester.
May they find the time and safe space to take that leap
from the thirty-thousand-foot-view into the unknown
other side of their walls,
giving a parachute to their free-falling inner trooper
so they can
show themselves
the compassion
to switch out
of
sympathetic mode.
Friday, December 14, 2018
You Must Choose or Be the Past or Future
A million moments a day lie awake at their twilight beckoning a second glace
Linger and soak in them for a minuscule moment more
Humming deep in your throat like a favorite childhood snack
Releasing the invisible ink with which you write your story.
Our pause button,
A deliberate deja-vouz,
Stretching a moment into infinity and
Tapping into the endless potential peace
Sitting in a moment the end of a deep breath out.
It's there
A Million Times a Day.
Linger and soak in them for a minuscule moment more
Humming deep in your throat like a favorite childhood snack
Releasing the invisible ink with which you write your story.
Our pause button,
A deliberate deja-vouz,
Stretching a moment into infinity and
Tapping into the endless potential peace
Sitting in a moment the end of a deep breath out.
It's there
A Million Times a Day.
Reliable Ally Guy
Impunity or immunity none of this shit is new to me
Born with a tint of privilege hard to feel what they do to thee
Not a threat, you can bet, even might call a vet,
Cause I'm the white one here, no joke and yet
These fucking pigs roll up burning holes in the scene
Kids and parents in class not a dash of mean
Could've hopped out in half a breath
And it'd be heavy shit, talkin life or death
If a Nazi rolls up I know what to do
Cause they'll kill my ass for being a Jew
But I have to travel far by distance or date
Before I'm getting killed with support of the state
So here on my soil it makes it hard to relate
Now I might ignore the protector and serve
Or get huffy and puffy about their arrogant nerve
But this shit is different I can't taste the flavor
They're serving black people, even my neighbors
Pull over, lay down, hands up in line like a train
Don't matter, concrete is splattered with your brain
So how to relate when the pigs roll up
Diffuse with my privilege or shut the fuck up
Looks like me and my neighbors have some talking to do
So I can be helpful in seeing this through.
Born with a tint of privilege hard to feel what they do to thee
Not a threat, you can bet, even might call a vet,
Cause I'm the white one here, no joke and yet
These fucking pigs roll up burning holes in the scene
Kids and parents in class not a dash of mean
Could've hopped out in half a breath
And it'd be heavy shit, talkin life or death
If a Nazi rolls up I know what to do
Cause they'll kill my ass for being a Jew
But I have to travel far by distance or date
Before I'm getting killed with support of the state
So here on my soil it makes it hard to relate
Now I might ignore the protector and serve
Or get huffy and puffy about their arrogant nerve
But this shit is different I can't taste the flavor
They're serving black people, even my neighbors
Pull over, lay down, hands up in line like a train
Don't matter, concrete is splattered with your brain
So how to relate when the pigs roll up
Diffuse with my privilege or shut the fuck up
Looks like me and my neighbors have some talking to do
So I can be helpful in seeing this through.
Ous Striving for Us
Ous Shihan
Ous!
Don't take the bus Shihan
Fuss!
Black and Whites outside Shihan
Don't trust!
Blacks and white inside Shihan
That's us!
Shared moments
Divergent paths funneling together
Deep respect and yet
I can swim toward the sharks without regret
Triggers pulled from a box buried deep below
A box planted by a young child trying to grow
In a racist world full of false division
A box overrides intellect, experience or vision
With no possible chance of going to prison
It kicks on with sympathetic but shows no compassion
A four letter F-word it don't describe passion
No this is the flip side four letters past D
And this box is buried too deep to see
It doesn't even matter if you try to flee
Hands up, Hands up, he even put up his heel,
Hands up, Hands up, hands on the steering wheel,
Don't Shoot, Don't Shoot, he's unarmed and innocent,
Don't Shoot, Don't Shoot, this life is not yet spent.
Officer, Officer, take a breath what you're seeing
It's me, it's me, another human being
Just take yourself to a secure and safe place
Do not terminate don't make it a race
I know society won't think that it's right
But if you approach I have no choice but to fight
Officer, officer, can you hear?
That voice in your head, it's nothing but FEAR.
Ous!
Don't take the bus Shihan
Fuss!
Black and Whites outside Shihan
Don't trust!
Blacks and white inside Shihan
That's us!
Shared moments
Divergent paths funneling together
Deep respect and yet
I can swim toward the sharks without regret
Triggers pulled from a box buried deep below
A box planted by a young child trying to grow
In a racist world full of false division
A box overrides intellect, experience or vision
With no possible chance of going to prison
It kicks on with sympathetic but shows no compassion
A four letter F-word it don't describe passion
No this is the flip side four letters past D
And this box is buried too deep to see
It doesn't even matter if you try to flee
Hands up, Hands up, he even put up his heel,
Hands up, Hands up, hands on the steering wheel,
Don't Shoot, Don't Shoot, he's unarmed and innocent,
Don't Shoot, Don't Shoot, this life is not yet spent.
Officer, Officer, take a breath what you're seeing
It's me, it's me, another human being
Just take yourself to a secure and safe place
Do not terminate don't make it a race
I know society won't think that it's right
But if you approach I have no choice but to fight
Officer, officer, can you hear?
That voice in your head, it's nothing but FEAR.
Monday, July 2, 2018
A Land Between Lands
We call it a Glacier
But on that day in 2015
It was an inferno
Wild winds howling like hungry wolves
Surrounding their prey from all sides
Instead of teeth they had fire
Biting into their victims
With a cloak of flames
No where to go they sizzled
Their bark no match for this regenerative predator
Afterwards, their feet lid bare
In an embarrassing naked display,
Half charcoal, half bone
The spongy ground sprung to life
Like a thousand green hands reaching up from the underworld
Grasping onto the light to pull themselves up
Rapidly clouding the ground with chlorophyll
Most of them had some decency back
By the time we arrived
Naked ankles wrapped in foliage
Used up match sticks jutting 150' into the air
Barely connected to the ground
Like cylindrical rockets awaiting takeoff
Dotted around their shins by conical white flower satellites
We made dazzled windshield wipers of our eyes
Soaking up this place of transition
A birthday cake of death
Cycling through its millionth round
We try to take it in
As if this is our first.
But on that day in 2015
It was an inferno
Wild winds howling like hungry wolves
Surrounding their prey from all sides
Instead of teeth they had fire
Biting into their victims
With a cloak of flames
No where to go they sizzled
Their bark no match for this regenerative predator
Afterwards, their feet lid bare
In an embarrassing naked display,
Half charcoal, half bone
The spongy ground sprung to life
Like a thousand green hands reaching up from the underworld
Grasping onto the light to pull themselves up
Rapidly clouding the ground with chlorophyll
Most of them had some decency back
By the time we arrived
Naked ankles wrapped in foliage
Used up match sticks jutting 150' into the air
Barely connected to the ground
Like cylindrical rockets awaiting takeoff
Dotted around their shins by conical white flower satellites
We made dazzled windshield wipers of our eyes
Soaking up this place of transition
A birthday cake of death
Cycling through its millionth round
We try to take it in
As if this is our first.
Thursday, June 21, 2018
Reminder to Catch My Breath
Every breath I push through without break
My skin grows callous
Layer upon layer forming with hard labor
Closing airflow passageways
A plaque to the arteries of oxygen
Deliberately chosen by ignoring signals
The changing terrain
Driving forward into the sandpit
Despite feeling the loss of traction
Foot pressing more and more desperately on the accelerator
Too stubborn to turn back and regroup
At the last possible moment I breathe out
A gasping explosion of acceptance
This is not a game of inward-facing Chicken
One breath in
One breath out
And I stay in place
As I elongate my breath out I begin to reverse course
It is twice as hard to go back
Next time I will remember to slow down
Heed the signs
And breathe
My skin grows callous
Layer upon layer forming with hard labor
Closing airflow passageways
A plaque to the arteries of oxygen
Deliberately chosen by ignoring signals
The changing terrain
Driving forward into the sandpit
Despite feeling the loss of traction
Foot pressing more and more desperately on the accelerator
Too stubborn to turn back and regroup
At the last possible moment I breathe out
A gasping explosion of acceptance
This is not a game of inward-facing Chicken
One breath in
One breath out
And I stay in place
As I elongate my breath out I begin to reverse course
It is twice as hard to go back
Next time I will remember to slow down
Heed the signs
And breathe
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