Poolside

Poolside

I don’t get to get fucked up anymore, not that I ever really did. I just get to be angry about another war like we pay for in the Middle East while a lot fat bankers and think tankers sit down to a feast on rotten meat.

I promise to sit by the poolside I’ll have for a limited time. I’ll smoke some ganja and breathe at least a few breaths without the stifling oppression I experience on a daily basis. I’m not the only one who faces trials and tribulations. But it sure does cut me off from my relations. But now I feel like I’m right back in the backyard doing dishes with a broken, hot water tank and a sink full of dishes. Never mind my own wishes. I’ve forgotten what it’s like to have a preference. For all that put me here I show no Deference.

I’ve decided that when it’s my day off and though the job problems and for a day or two subside, you get to catch up on your real life dues. But as much as we struggle, and as much as we have hardships, that’s nothing compared to our folks in the streets. I am reminded every day of the worsening chasm partnerships are suffering, under the weight of the satanic system. That’s nothing compared to the destruction of even the streets in Gaza so you don’t even have a place to lay down your trauma.

It gives us spasms, but at least the illusion is broken, and the cries in the wilderness are no longer silent to reach one and teach one about the calamities that may be bringing us even further to our knees. Just cling to God and fight for the right side that didn’t stay silent, and become part of a tsunami of hope, even if it’s violent. It is only the collective you can change the course of history.

And now that I sit poolside to take that breath, I got them down, my thoughts!!! Just a little sliver of sun time to soak in some sublime with the sound of the water ever in motion. I declare to God and people of the Lord, I wish to always be in this fight of dark and light as it goes on around me both day and night

Palm Of Your Hand

I’m in the palm of your hand

I’m the sinew holding your soul

I helped build a harbor around your heart

I never left you even all these years apart

I have been your unconditional gift, and 

                       your biggest fan

Hanging on your life’s soliloquy

               the audience you command

The aperture sees the reality of the place we always meet, not just in memory, 

Not just a dream, it’s real, it’s solid as concrete.

We help each other stand, 

                   and encourage flight

Nothing we can’t face with that kind of light.

Ode To Gil Scott Heron (with a lunar political plot twist)

Ode to Gil Scott Heron 

Remember when they told us that Whitey’s 

                           on the moon?

Rushing to get there before the Russian

      Whities can beat them to the moon?

In the middle of pitched civil rights battles

Whitey planted that American flag 

             none too soon on the moon

Every boy and girl held their breath for

eagle to land, those Whities on the moon

But no one believes it anymore, 

               it looks that we’ve been had

Buzz Aldrin had to take to the bottle

             because lying made him sad

Now that he is sober again,

            he tells the kids the truth

“It didn’t happen,” we heard his tone

Whitey spent nearly $30 billion trying 

            to fly Whitey to the moon

In the end, Kubrick took the crew 

to stage a fake landing, 

                     dropping many clues

10% of Americans don’t believe that narrative of Whitey on the moon

They would sooner believe that Elvis lives

          than Whitey’s been to the moon