I never wrote a word, not until
I’d said my peace,
misconstrued and gnawed on,
beaten to a pulp,
dead as embers—burnt black on arrival
to a silent mass, ready
and aching to be heard.
Home » Posts tagged 'black'
Tag Archives: black
Regardless of the election.
There’s a sewer pipe
in the dark, by the L.A. river
like a grave in the ground
where people sleep
by the highway, by the neighborhood
where pumpkins soon
will be replaced by
feasts of Turkey, stuffing, corn
and carefully locked doors,
then to be replaced by balsams and fern
white lights and tender eyes
of Christmas morning,
regardless of the hole by the L.A. river
where people sleep
live, and love—and pray, regardless
of the election, regardless
of the president
I still weep.
Do you?
With all stones cast
With all stones cast
There’s a pot still boiling
And a kettle left black
There’s a house still standing
With thinly cracked glass
There’s a kink in the line
With a reel still intact
There’s a spell in the ether
Waiting to be cast
With all stones thrown
There’s a hole full of flesh
There’s a crack in the arrow
There’s an angry protest
Each body a story, color, and time
Each arrow head sharpened, pristine, and divine
Each voice becomes voiceless, estranged, and unkind
With all stones turned
There lies not a soul
The truth is but squalor
Results are annulled
In a garden of daisies
Rest youthful and old
A graveyard of rubble
for silver and gold?
The game is rigged the money’s spent
If I stay in bed too long
dreaming of the times gone by
There must be something wrong
like not knowing what is right
If I get up and get gone
still daydreaming in the morning light
There must be something wrong
because all I see is black and white
Out there on the road
passing frowns can’t weigh me down
Like songs from days of old
freewheeling there’s no time to tell
She’s been reaching for the sun
did all I could to take her there
Must be doing something wrong
like two children we’re still unprepared
To walk
on our own
As state signs blur
on the road
Yet all this time
we have grown
There’s still this
phantom partner feeling
though we’re on our own.
When you go there’s still coming back
don’t be extreme like who needs that?
There must be something wrong
for me to feel like this and that
She was going either way
it didn’t matter if I saved the day
There must be something wrong
for me to think or feel this pain
Standing in the setting sun
which blinds me now casts shadows on
Reflections on the windowpane
my doppelgänger’s staring back at me
If looks could kill I’d live
my malice spite all gibberish
God knows if I could commit
I’d probably muck it up like a little kid
Whose ball
hits the rim
It bounces far
time and again
The game is rigged
the money’s spent
Yet there’s this
faint glimmer of hope
like there’s a chance to win.
I see a lot of people
I see a lot of people
not liking themselves
Whose only hobby it seems
is not liking themselves
Figuring out new ways
of not liking themselves
I see a lot of people who are all the same
holding onto their pain like a talisman
And though it pains me to say it
I’ve still got to say it:
that kettle over there looks rather black.
Meaningless Color.
black
white
brown
yellow
red
Just colors
until,
we make them more.
Words Of An Average White Male 