just talk to the hand….

just talk to the hand

please
don’t say
those words
again
about
us
all getting along
because
we can’t
hell
even lovers
can’t
do that
so
why
do we pretend
that
the embedded
rebars
of
ignorance
and
hate
can be chiseled
from
centuries
of
layered
contrived history
each
previous
attempt
has been
paved over
with
more
hatred
and
fabricated
reasons
to
fear
others
that
are
not understood
nor
acknowledged
for
that matter
so
please
do not
bother me
with
can’t we
all
just
get along

 

 

on the occasion of your birthday…

on the occasion of your birthday

love’s
now
forgotten
laughter
a mere
memory
family
the battleground
for
lies
the
person
now
sadly
just
a
name
on
a faded
birth certificate
with
no remembrance
of
the
truth

 

 

when the stage is empty…

when the time comes

soon
i’ll walk
onto
an emptied
stage
all
the props
of
life
will be gone
all
that will remain
is
my final
fool’s soliloquy
before
the house lights
fade
to
the black
void
my final line
death
renders
us all
fools

now that you’ve asked…

prayer or staged devotion...

beliefs
empty shelves
for
the homeless
and
blind believers
of
words
translated
from
a contrived text
carefully
written
to
reflect
current
marketing trends
but
as
the market
has changed
numerous
rewrites
have been
required
rewrites
where
history
remains
but
a culturally
accepted
mass
propaganda
used
to shape
young minds
into
a fantasized
void
of
yesterday
where
lollipop kings
and
fairy queens
grant
wishes
that
should have never
been
made

lesser men…

matryoshka

a game
of
cat and mouse
observed
by
buzzards
where
two
of
the same species
are
convinced
via
history
that
one
is
the lesser
but
both
have been
told
that
the other
is
the
lesser
so
in order
to
preserve
the
natural order
of
the universe
one
must be demeaned
and
destroyed
at
every
opportunity
and
to
the victor
nothing
but
more of the same
but
the
carcasses 
belong
to
the
buzzards
who
instigated
the
whole
damn thing
in
the
beginning

joining others…

joing others...

at night
these days
i have
thoughts
of
death and dying
not
an anxiety
about them
but
it’s
like
reading the final
few pages
recalling
what proceeded
the
current chapter
and
the assumptions
made
about
how things
are going to end
then
realizing
that
these are
interactive pages
with
multiple endings
so
determining
what’s really
going to happen
at
the end
is still dependent
upon
the final few
pages
how
and
when they’re
turned
although
what happens
around us
may also
alter
the ending
but
the nearness of another
can quell
those thoughts
of
what’s to come
in
favor
of
who is
here
now

a dream we had…

a dream we had...

for a brief
moment in time
we believed
the
dream
could come true
that
our words
could save lives
and
change
the course
of history
but
after all these years
we are still
counting bodies
from
war
and
seeing
women
denied
the rights
to
their own bodies
love
one another
is still
really
just
the lyrics
of
a song
sang
by
a few folks
sipping martinis
at
the club house
a sentimental relic
of
college days
days
when
some of us
watched
our friends
being dragged off
by
the police
some
never
the same person
once returned
from
captivity
some souls
are
perishable
war
rape
and
police batons
can do that they say
just as bullets
can end
life
and when
the white sheets
are replaced
by
dark uniforms
of
blue
or
black
the murders
are
made justifiable
lynchings
without
ropes
nothing has changed
but once
we had
dreams