nonabrasive…

nonabrasive

you nod
your head
when
we speak
but
you don’t hear us
that
painful look
of
understanding
on
your face
won’t
be
your saving grace
it
just shows
that
how
we speak
makes you
believe
you know
something about us
fictitious facts
drawn
from all those
historical
stereotypes
but
you
don’t know
us
the subdued sounds
of
our voices
conceal much
and
only
reveal
what
we wish
to be seen
verbal
camouflage
masking out
the sound
of
a fuse
that’s
already
been
lit

scavengers of young souls..

scavengers of young souls

feeding below flesh
like soft-minded heartless worms
spewing cruel words without cause
said to a child with pure hate
because of race and birthplace
child adrift in hate’s whirlpool

 

 

zealots…

zealots

shrouded in hate
a life in fear
fear of revealing
that beneath
the layers of disdain
lies
an empty life
with
only
hate
to protect it
from
being recognized
as
a fearful fraud
destined
for
an unknown
grave

no hope orphanages..

MILITARY RELIEF EFFORTS IN HAITI

child of the dead
your name has been lost
soon you will forget
their touch
and
the warmth
of
their words
these muddy fields
and
makeshift tents
are
you new parents
but
they will not embrace you
nor
seek to feed you
now
you alone
must do those things
expect only
more
tears

 

 

manuscript editing…

ghost writings...

if injustice’s dead would rise
and once again have human eyes
so they could find their oppressors
calling them out by name
we’d have to rewrite the history books

memorial day…

memorial day

there can be
no
doubt
that 
we
walk on graves
fallen souls
beneath
our feet
sons
of
many lands
all
who died
for
one nation
but
that nation
has forgotten
not only
their
names
and
places
of
birth
but
that
deep
bone marrow
of
belief
that held them up
in
battle
when death
was
so apparent
they
would not
surrender
nor
forsake
freedom’s cause
unlike
those who walk
in
marble halls
of
congress
with
marble
so thick
that
the bones
of
the dead
cannot be felt
nor
disrupt
a traitor’s
quest
for
power
would be
that
the dead
could arise
and
once again
defend
the
why
some
chose
to
die

 

 

 

discrete deaths…

discrete deaths...

rarely found
on
page one
and
almost never
listing
the names
of
those murdered
instead
a monotone
vague portrayal
of
human lives
is
presented
as if
they were
some inert
objects
that were
merely
crushed
and
should be
of
no concern
to you
but
the assassins
carried out
their heinous
deeds
saying
hallowed be thy name
your name
for
you
are society’s
holy ones
whose lives
are
to be protected
at
all costs
from those
different
from
you
whether
it be
a child
or
a pregnant woman
combatant
or
noncombatant
nothing matters
but
thy
holy name

self-protection…

before
their eyes
opened
fine threads
of
social expectation
were
layered
around
the infant form
distorting
the view
of
the outside world
and
stunting
the growth within
an arrested development
caused by
a malnutrition
of
truth
as had been expected
with such containment
there were fatalities
but such deaths
were easily
projected onto upbringing
and

or
personal parental failures
leaving the society
blameless
those that
finally
emerged
from
the cultural cocoon
were
as
had been planned
unable to discern
social injustice
accepting
the white cane
of
forced poverty
that denied
them access
to
most of the entry points
of
success
living their lives
as
moths
flutter around
the flame
of
hate
most disconcerting
to
the oligarchy
however
were
the few
that emerged
as
dragons

 

ciudad santuario…

sassy little city
ain’t listening
to
nobody
dressing
as
she pleases
got
million of hearts
so
never misses
a beat
dares
to speak
in
tongues
without
any damn
divine inspiration
or
apology
to
xenophobic zealots
that
refuse
rights
to others
in
their stolen land
so she
lifts up her skirt
to give
the oppressed
someplace
to
hid
never revealing
where
or
how
they arrived
she merely
smiles
and
walks away
then
pulls
the curtain
of
night
leaving
the fools
sitting alone
in
the dark