thoughts while reading her sedoka…

her tears are her words
pages filled with memories
memories of nights by his side

memory’s journal
pages stained with her lost dreams
dreams once as real as warm flesh

bonfire of political delight…

bodies
piled
upon
urban dreams
stacked
like
old books
in
a scene
from
fahrenheit 451
bodies
of
children
weened
upon
a
dream
of
freedom
and
justice for all
now
just
emaciated
bodies
of
hope
layered
between
the dried dung
of
political promises
and
desiccated sticks
of
national loyalty
soaked
in
the kerosene
of
corporate
greed
to
be torched
and
forgotten

ain’t your…

since we know
you have
a short
little
attention span
we’ll start
with
the bottom line
we ain’t
your
anything
i
ain’t your brother
and
she
ain’t your sister
i
ain’t no pimp
and
she
ain’t no whore
i
ain’t on unemployment
and
she
ain’t on welfare
i
ain’t waiting for salvation
and
she ain’t waiting on you
i
ain’t like your pedophile president
and
she ain’t like his playboy reject
i
ain’t gonna shuffle
and
she
ain’t gonna shake it
i
ain’t hateful
and
she
ain’t fearful
we could go on
but
i think
even
you
can grasp
we
ain’t
your anything