Ignorance on horsebackwearing cowboy hatsto whip and round up those whohave already suffered, strived,and survived.We chose to be another obstacleIn lieu of a helping handWe add imagery to a library of the pastthat we cannot escape.
I don’t tolerate your delaybecause I choose not toI want the answer faster thanyou can provide one.And though understoodand though I do want a well-thoughtmeaningful, and truthful replyIt’s that delay on which I dwell.It’s that delay that holds my focusIt’s that delayIt is that delay.
I did not charge overnightforgetting to plug in the devices.This morning, they are drainedas am Iwaking up feeling more tired than beforeturning in last night.I envy those devicesnow plugged in andreceiving direct energyAs that luxury eludes meas I turn on another deviceand anotherand anotherSo that I may smile and nod beforemy colleagueson screenBattery drained.
We trim the edgesand control the heightautomating thefeedingand feeding for rapid growth.Single file lines!From one container to anothera product of consumptionand mass control.Livelihoods depend on this controlat the expense of others’livelihoods.
The draw of the morning sunthe cool breezethe promise of a new dayIs weaker than the draw ofthe false light fromcold metal and glassrectanglesOur attention owned bySomething manufactured andThat sunlight passes by.
It rained during the nightEnough to make the ground dampand the trees hopeful.Enough to freshen the air,cooling and cleaningClouds block the suna respite from the heatWindows open, deep breaths.Let us begin.
Wavelengths from the sourcedissipate as they travel.Yet as I traveltowards you, my wavelengthsstrengthen, my sourcesdisappear, and my destinationmoves along with theWavelengthsof you.
The bandage provides coverto heal, protecting the woundshielding it from view.The visible indicationto otherssaying “I am woundedand I need time to recover”An important indicatoryet a bandage is oftensomething we try to hide.
Late Summer dry airwith smells that call back to memoriesof going to school.Walking to the bus stopTo be ridiculedfor your eyesfor your othernessAre these eyes really so different?Am I the only one to seethe ignorancethe hateSmells that call back memoriesand now knowing that I havemoved forward.
These feetcracked and wearynot properly cared foryet, have cared forTheir plight measured in distanceand yearsWith flex and strengthwith will and persistencethese feet,cracked and weary,not properly cared foryet, have cared forcontinue their steps.
Wild grass and reedscoarsely whisperThere’s no waterTrees siphon the last from their ownfibers withinTheir roots shriveled in pain.The birds find puddlesthough “puddles”are not what they expect.We humans pray for rainas our sprinklerswater our sidewalks.
Holding each othertalking about the pastand the futureThe present and the state we holdWe know now thatwe did not know thenAnd we know now thatwe will know.That today requires our fullaffection,That we must trust what isto be.
Clouds Blocking light, blocking thought An occasional bird weaves in and out of vision. Earth Scars of disaster and of man An occasional tree grows despite our best efforts. Underground So dark and yet comfortingly warm An occasional Earth emerges. To cover and renew.
Things that grow in containers, sibsiding only off of what is given, provided, and falls their way by happenstance. Scheduled and pruned and measured, water, fertilizer, soil and the fauna that visit. Kept by their owners or ones that their owners pay to keep. They envy the weeds that grow nearby.
The physical chooses this direction towards movement spending energy While my emotional chooses this towards safety seeking comfort A battle of opposite directions means remaining in place for neither will win Wills are strong A compromise between them is progress perhaps away from both wills.
Amenable no longer to others and their wants. Amenable to what we have prioritized if at all. Amenable is not pliability nor pliable But consentual and uncharacteristically passive.
Fugitive Simultaneously Running and Hiding I was right I am right I tried to do the right thing. Please don’t take me back there It is cold and dark And I tried to do the right thing.
That cool morning breeze comes through your window and floats across your body. It feels good, refreshing. It has travelled far, seen many things, and carries with it all that is has experienced.
It is time to take it offline. It is time to live for yourself. To create without the eyes of others And to create without the voices of those who do not create. Make things messy And make messy things.
Hidden in the folds of the big man Hidden in the folds of fat Are the things he longs to be. Welcome, accepted, included, and treated like another person. Hidden in the folds of the big man Hidden in the folds of his fat Are the secrets he longs to shed. Depression, self-hatred, and self-confidence […]