passe…

now
i know
it’s not fashionable
but
i’m holding on
to
my old
moth-eaten
frayed
and
ragged dreams
i don’t need
any
fancy fantasies
nor
do i want to be
weighed down
by
all
the depressing
shenanigans
coming
from
the white house
i want to continue
to believe
that
this is a country that cares
not only
for its own self-interest
but
for the human rights
of
all men and women
regardless
of
race,
religion
color
creed
or
sexual orientation
you see
i’m
an american
with
the old
true
american dream

 

spring #14…

a spring sunday
church youth choir
singing
at
a country church
wind dancing
though
the tall grass
along
a dirt road
smells of spring
and
birds’ voices
fill the air
it would appear
the best
songs
of
praise
are
outside
the church doors

according to tradition…

another
holy day
the word
will be spoken
prayers
will be said
then
the killing
will
continue
the poor
will
still starve
the dishonest
will
be
deified
false prophets
will pursue
political 
power

 

graffitied…

i was sharing
some photos
of
brazil
with
the brown bag prophet
i
expressed
my
bewilderment
that
even
churches
had been tagged
with
graffiti
i showed
him
pictures
of
rio
the prophet
said
that’s
merely
a civilized way
of
dissenting
when
i questioned
the
civility
of such actions
the prophet
noted
that
in our country
as well as
others
people
and
structures
are
violently
destroyed
for
their
religious
affiliation
he then asked
anything
you
wanna tag

 

an easter query…

crossing
the railroad tracks
the pastor
arrived
at
an old
post-war bungalow
residence
of
miss maybel
who
in her prime
was
much sought after
by
a number
of
the town’s
most
charming
and
handsome
men
of
color
but
she had said
no
to all
saying
i’ve fought
for
women’s rights
civil rights
and
looked after
white folks’ homes
and
their children
so
i don’t
have time
or
energy
to look after
anyone else
but
myself
age
took her suitors
some
time ago
as well as
most
of
her women friends
she didn’t make it to
good friday service
so
pastor
decided to stop by
she didn’t
answer
the door
but
it was open
calling in
he thought
he heard her
so
he entered
pale
sitting
in a chair
was maybel
death
even makes
a man of god
stop and evaluate
life
but
he quickly
resumed his role
and
asked
if she
was ready
to meet
her maker
with
her last
inaudible
breath
she answered