for standing up to protest
against your oppression…
just spat blood on the floors
of your halls of justice…
His name is Jesus…
will His blood redeem you,
or condemn you?
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‘over the hilltops,
among all the treetopsyou hardly feela breath moving.the birds fall silent in the woods.simply wait! Soonyou too will be silent.’Goethea knock on the door,Hermes,the messenger,come to gather and disperse!we run like maddened chickens,to escape the mossy handsof the grave.yet time comes, again and again!all the shiny thingswe stuffed into our bags,fall like empty bellsto the…
heroin and homelessness,
cold nights, broken glass windows,even Jesus got baptizedin a muddy river!blood on the kitchen floor,roaches crawl up the walls.Agent Orange, and picket signs,flags burning in the alleys.babies never seen their daddy,mothers working, minimum wage.breaking into churches,and sleeping at the altar,dont turn back time, or stop the wind!empty graves, orphaned parents.the nursing home smells like deathseeds…
black man, white man,
families carrying guns and Bibles,living on the street.rich man, well hid,cocktails made of blood and oil.tyranny, mass slavery,bodies buried, American soil.and the hands on the clockcrawl like justice spurned….tick tock, tick tock,mercy gives what mercy earns!
just one more time…
dance of the herons,waves kiss gravity’s shore.your body in mine,dialogue of flesh…when silence shouts,and butterflies weep.the flame held gently,tugs at the boat.bare feet walk,the inner path.intimate waiting,for the groan and the flash…just one more time,say you love me,let me die!
build a fire….
stomp your feet,trying to get warm….hard wind from offthe mountains…..sunlight opens the day.and all that was yesterday,all the dirt and grime,all the bruises and words fallen,the shadows of mistakes…..are gone!another day….good fire, the company of friends….another chance to fly!
who is the poet then?
phrases, rhymes, and symbols…or the one who wipes the assof the old man in the nursing home,whose family does not come anymore.or the young gay teacherin the projects, walking the thin linebetween the hatred of gangs, and hope.or the small time farmerwho planted one last crop,knowing that the bank was comingto take it all away.or…