Tag Archives: poetry

Stand Down, Stand Up, and Kneel at the Same Time

Avoid cosplay by any means. Ten toes down. Actors can’t live here. As an Orange tyrant drives a filthy machine through traffic, hoping to convert sleepy people into patriotic minions. Toxic. Life in the margins is lit and smoky. Climb levels of wokeness. Bold. Both parties got blues in their veins. Angry birds don’t fly straight.Continue reading “Stand Down, Stand Up, and Kneel at the Same Time”

Resistance as Lullaby  

Say no to empire, to both wings of the same filthybird. Parties of failure and gas lighters. Let the teacher bless cold classrooms with fiery lessons from US history. Let young Emmett Till get his revenge. Let Baldwin have the last laugh. Let Hendrix blues up the Star-Spangled Banner. Let James Brownplay Payback until itContinue reading “Resistance as Lullaby  “

No Emotions for a Failed Party

Hakeem Jeffries kneels for the umpteenth time this year. Tap shoes grind down to the soles on men who don’t have souls. They float, like bees, but sting and shuck, like worthless pigs, sporting power ties and gray suits, electric sliding across tiled floors for votes, for genocide, for bites at the apple, for AIPAC’sContinue reading “No Emotions for a Failed Party”

Choose Smoke: If You Must Interact With Donkeys or Elephants

Dramatic. Like Gandhi tucking a firearm into the waistline of a three-piece suit, asking Congressto pass the George Floyd Justice in Policing Act. Or like Tupac spitting at reporters, and then speeding down the street in a black jeep, navigating a broken culture. Bizarre like that. Electric like that. The vibes are the vibes. JamesContinue reading “Choose Smoke: If You Must Interact With Donkeys or Elephants”

Hampton, Like Fred

Hampton boulevard buzzes. I stalk sidewalk. A Free Palestine flag flaps in front of an old tree, towering, like a symbol of an American today, a tale creeping along flesh, begging for the right interpretation.D. Trump is in Norfolk. Protesters put toes on burning sidewalks. Justice simmers. I can’t feel my face these days, hustlingContinue reading “Hampton, Like Fred”