Uncategorized

Black Life Shatters

My oldest son,
one of the few Earth-mattering
Earth-shattering
Black lives
I was made to protect
to guide
by eco-righteous WinWin acts
and co-passioning words,

Felt, and therefore was, disempowered,
worthless,
like helpless prey among predators
who listen to the same rap,
same urban Earth writes,
same multicultural performances,
When a gun was dispassionately pointed at his head.

This was only tangentially about an economic exchange
primal, personally and politically, targeted.

He felt violated,
and threatened,
already home and identity invaded,
when forced to hand over his car keys,
and the back door
and front door
keys to his home.

He knows these guys,
where to find them on Facebook,
at the casino,
in the dance and rap clubs
where he invested
infested
while still in high school.

Urban night school, unEarthly,
earthy
darkly sensual.

He does not know where to find them in church.
Gospel music is for grandmothers.
Liturgical dance,
sacred rituals,
are for outside romance
on warm wet wombed erotic nights.

He felt naked
exposed
terrified when they demanded his last dime.

This is his biggest and baddest bully,
his most deeply echoing “LOSER!”
His darkest dirge
speaking of suicidal revenge.

Or prison,
where Earth’s great white patriarchal State,
will put a gun to his head
and force him to remove his clothes
and bend over
to assume the even more lost position,

Raped of any future hope
to rest outdoors
after an ecstatic liturgical dance
under a romantic full moon
rapping
and dancing
ultra-violet variations
on a warm wet wombed
bright delight.
Not So Bright Delight

You talk our talk
like Black Lives Matter,
but you walk your own walk
as Black lives shatter,
Brown lives stutter,
Green lives splinter.

What’s a-matter?

You want to want
all lives to splatter?
Might hear to hear
RealTalk ain’t chatter,

You eat to eat
friends heads on platters.
We taste to see
your fake get fatter.

Your act is tired.
Your allies scatter.
You need to feed
on guns’ disaster.

Come on now, Felix,
What’s a-matter?
Where’s your commitment
to Black Lives Matter?

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Uncategorized

Creationdental Rumba

There is

no truth called

A coincidence,

because

all of life is

coincidental

that means

we are each known

coincidental together.

 

There is no truth called

A coincidence.

That we are all

coincidental

invites us to gather

together.

 

This means

you are each so

coincidental with me.

 

If I were you

and you were me.

If you were me,

and I were you,

then maybe we

could both recall

that we grow free

essentially coincidental

forever.

 

If you were me

then

would I be you?

If I were you

then

would you be me?

If we are

each other

then maybe you can see

there is no sense in

coincidence

unless we speak truth

to our relationship

together.

 

There is no truth called

A coincidence

because

all of life is

coincidental.

That means

we are each

coincident

and we are all

coincidental together,

and we are all

coincidental

invites us

to gather our now.

 

You and I

belong together

this is not

A coincidence,

it is

our

coincidental now.

 

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