human rights

by

the room…

the room

we rent this space
occupying it briefly
but everything
in the room
is ours
from
the furnishings
to
random thoughts
even
the broken dreams
scattered
throughout
the years
are
ours
so it seems strange
that we cannot share
this
small space
with whom
we choose
those
who pretend
to be our landlords
keep insisting
that
their rules
must
be followed
rules
designed
for their pleasure
and
their pleasure
is
power over others
but
we
pay the rent

 

 

by

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

 

by

screevers…

 

been around
for
centuries
those
political craftsmen
creating
freedom’s
sidewalk art
chalk illusions
of
human rights
and
democracy
crafted
to trick
the eyes
of
everyman
throughout history
into
seeing
and
believing
that
they were standing
on
the firmament
of
freedom
but
were in fact
standing
on
the completely
flat
and
unchanging
black asphalt
of
ignorance
and
intolerance

 

by

defacing graves…

and
what
shall we
tell
the dead
that
all
their sacrifices
for
freedom
were
uncalled for
since
we’ve
surrendered
freedom
to
a snake oil salesman
who
slithers
above
the moral
and
sacred
grounds
that holds
what remains
of
their
mortal frames
those
rotting corpses
that now
sadly
resembles
the human rights
for
which
they
died

by

open for public use…

open for public use

so long
sought
pursued
with passion
but
when found
it seemed
quite simple
ubiquitous
in nature
expectations were
some golden glowing light
almost blinding
but
it’s
quite
straight forward
where one
listens to the heart
and
denies no one
the right
to live
this thing
called
wisdom

by

the same old story…

the same old story

aunt bea
was sitting
on the front porch
with a neighbor lady
discussing
how much
things
haven’t
changed
aunt bea
said
you can
put as many ornaments
on a tree
as
you want
but
what lies
beneath
is still
a naked tree
discrimination
is
discrimination
no matter
how many
glitter laws
you put
on the books
such mandates
when held only
by
a thin string
of printed words
will fall
and
shatter
with the slightest
breeze
of ignorance