survival subroutines…

those human actions
evolved over a lifetime
as a response to
those who have had white privilege
developed to sustain dreams

 

small seeds of life’s fortune…

penny found on street
a lost soul without a home
deemed worthless by most
no one bends to pick it up
life’s true fortune cast aside

 

esa nationwide identification & registration…

i’ve
just certified
my pet
as
my
emotional support animal
he will now
travel with me
and
hang out
no matter
where
i
go
and
there’ll be
no pet restrictions
and
no
additional fees
when
he joins me
on board
even
if
it’s an embraer 145
tho
i must admit
it was
a tight fit
during
the last flight
until
caesar
ate his lunch
those two passengers
were
annoying
anyway
but
not only does
he travel
with me
but
can reside
alongside me
in
my pet free apartment complex
according
to
the license
i received
from
a certified doctor
and
a mental health professional
documenting my absolute
right
to have caesar
by my side
day and night
oh there were
a few
complaints
from
the first three
apartment managers
who attempted
to remove caesar
and
i
from
our flat
but
well
let’s just say
that
caesar is a critter
of
few words
but
with a huge
appetite
in any case
the new manager
hasn’t
been up to the apartment
since
she arrived
it
might have been
that
grocery store incident
that
she saw
when we were
shopping
at the same time
but
that would just be
speculation
on my part
but
whatever
all this freedom
for
the two of us
only cost us
about
90 dollars
and
the whole process
was
conducted online
which was
probably
in the best interest
of
the certifiers

 

yard sale…

found among
the archeological items
ceremonial clothing
as well as
personal adornments
adjacent to these artifacts
were
cooking utensils
and
an assortment
of
decorative statues
some
obviously used
in
religious rituals
below
a strata
of
old news papers
collections
of
leather bound
images
sorted by stages
of
life
other images
were
string tied bundles
that were
incongruent
with
the bound images
often
portraying events
which seemed
to predate
this particular tribal unit
perhaps
the forefathers
regardless
none were
remarkable
in determining
the tribe’s past life
or
culture
however
the assemblage
was
quite amazing
but
there was one
diagnostic artifact
that
captured my attention
leaving me
spellbound
and

speechless
a photograph
of
you

 

 

time lost…

unrecoverable hours
collections
of
minutes
suspended in memory
submerged like frogs
in formaldehyde jars
lifeless
lifelike forms
suitable
only
for
dissection
nothing more
no way
to
reanimate
those carefully preserved
moments
those specimens
of
life
that are void
of
what defines
life
but are
all
too often
examined
and
re-examined
as if
what was
can become
what
will be

 

de fly (fly on me head)…

fly in me face
fly on me head
fly in me face
fly on me head
well i hope de fly don’t come out and land on me head tonight
well i went out to de debate
and i’m feelin’ a little spaced
and i sit down at the stage desk and
a fly lands on me head
well de fly come down from de farm
you see he wait just off stage
when he hear that i’m telling a lot of bull
de fly land on me head
fly on me head
fly on me head
well i hope de fly he don’t come out
and land on me head tonight
de fly he like foul things
all the children know that
what i need to know from de lord
is how you get de truth from liars
they say liars never win
and truth will show all sins
but what i am afraid of is
that he got another plan
to hide more things…

Based on De Bat (Fly In Me Face)” a song from Carly Simon’

sympathetic resonance…

words
and
wine
both flowing
ink
fills the pages
as
wine
fills the minds
two young poets
listening
to
miles
kind of blue
free form verses
swaying
on the page
to
changing tempos
rocking
back and forth
then
soaring
in
solos
incongruent
syllables
exposing
hidden emotions
from
deep within
their souls
pain
anger
and
moments
of
love
all revealed
in
a few stanzas
before
life interrupts

 

abstruse omissions…

i am
the empty space
between
enslavement
and
freedom
the chasms
between
what
was
promised
and
what came
to
pass
foolish dreams
from
an ignored
lover
of
freedom
who sees
nothing more
than
redefined moments
of
forgotten stories
of
the true founders
of
this nation
hidden
between
the printed lines
of
history books
written
in
the invisible blood
of
those enslaved
whose
undiscovered
mass graves
are concealed
by
the blank spaces
between
the lines
of
lies
your eyes
should tread
carefully
through
those spaces
so
as not
to
disturb
the
dead
for
seeing
what lies
beneath
the surface
of
this nation’s myths
could
make you
shed
tears
of
shame

 

nyctophobia…

count
the heartbeats
passing
before you
as if
each
beat
is the sound
of
their footsteps
feel
their pulse
in
the blinks
of
their eyes
the
flow of their existence
in
their facial
postures
and
their demise
in
the silence
of
night
that darkness
where
you’re
unable
to
sleep
for
fear
of
your own death
now i lay me
down
to sleep