Saturday, January 26, 2013

Classism At Its Finest

Should a man be judged by
The shabby clothes he wears
The way he smells, for the fact
That he is a simple bum enjoying a hot meal?

NO!

Should a woman be judged by
How short or long her skirt is or
How she does or doesnt show her cleavage or
How she may or may not put out?

NO!

Should a person be judged because of
Their sexual preference(s) or
Their personal gender identity or issues or
Their capacity for loving many at once?

NO!

Should a person be judged for
The god or gods or lack thereof they
Choose to worship or not worship
And for the rites that go with it?

NO!

Should a person be judged based on
Whether or not they trust our bi-partisan system
Whether they are Democrat, Republican,
Green Party, Libertarian, or Anarchist?

NO!

America was founded by the people,
For the people and increasingly we are
Shoved onto the sidelines of society or
Put into boxes of stereotypes.

WAKE UP!

That homeless man with his pack
Could really be an Angel stuck on
This now hellish Earth, being his best
So that he might be prepared for wings again.

That woman in the "slutty" clothes
Is not asking for rape, she's
Merely taking pride in her beauteous
Figure and graciously allowing us a glimpse.

That gay couple walking down the street
Holding hands, locking eyes and lips
Just want the same legal perks as any
Heterosexual married couple, grow up.

All religions are created to mollify
The masses into the division and slavery
Of our current world social structure
Take what truth you can and dont feel superior

The anarchist you label an idealistic fool
Is just sick of the fucking bullshit
Gritting their teeth at socioeconomic injustice
Wondering: Why can't we just live free?

JOIN THE REVOLT!

Heartbeat, Drumbeat, Song

Shy and uncertain, I stand
Staring around a room full of
Expensive hand-crafted cozy rugs
That look as if each could be a flying carpet

Earthy brown and tan colors combine
With bright reds of passion in
Intricate detailed intertwining patterns
On these masterpieces fit for Sultans.

I peruse the back courtyard area,
Admiring the raging flaming fire
That anoints the mild night air
With a smoky aroma reminiscent of Home.

People begin to arrive and congregate,
And suddenly I'm not such a stranger
As I chat, laugh, mingle and puff-puff-pass
With all these beautiful souls I've been missing

By the time I come back to the fromt
Thirty energetic people are at one with
The beat and the resounding cacophany
Is so intrinsically beautiful it will never be forgotten.

I sit outside the circle, swaying with the
Rooms echoing heartbeat, picking apart layers
And as I let my ears and mind go I begin to Think I hear something other than drums.

Its like a chant, barely audible, flowing
Like a river beneath all the layers
I question in wonderment the sound I hear:
A womans voice crooning universal sounds.

My eyes hungrily gaze at the mouths of all,
But I can't place it; am I really just
Hallucinating it? But no, I hear it again,
Close my eyes and savor the precious moment.

I feel the energy of the music as it
Wraps around all involved, uplifting,
Heartening, strengthening all our spirits
For the next lunar month and feel blessed.

Thursday, January 24, 2013

untitled 1/22/13

I hate being alone
For all the various
Memories and thoughts
That follow and haunt me.

Everytime I turn around
There's this voice in the
Back of my head full of
Self-judgement and hate.

It throws all my past mistakes
Back in my face with
The 1080p HD clarity of my 20/20
Past vision; tells me I'm always gonna fail.

And for years and years I've
Been in this struggle, telling and yelling at
This voice that is myself that it is
Wrong; I will succeed!

But in the end, I don't; I'm human
And I err and the voice triumphant
Crows: "See? See! I told you so."
And I try to hide in my shame and my grief.

I turn to MaryJane for sweet numbed solace
And comfort, but even her great powers
Only shelter me but for a second
Against this endless barrage of shit.

So I sit here on my bed
Just as haunted as before, sober
Trying to scribble away the pain
And I wonder: "Will I fail?"