That...

Which is meant to heal

Should not hurt

But anything...

Everything is corruptible

In the hands of our species

The world is ailing

Mankind is the virus

Love is only the healing

For the pain we cause

Yet

We turn up our noses

Not to smell the roses

But at Love

And it's "abominable" doses

... like a vaccine.

Rush headlong

Into the night

To do battle upon

Those who would

See our brethren under

Heels & Knees of

Brutality still

Still, I say ... -

Only now, I have

Exchanged the weapons

of my Rebellion

My torches & flaming pitchforks

No longer scare

These here ancient monsters

Now Lord,

Strengthen my pain-laden voice

That these fiends of old

Might hear it

And tremble

-

Or as Samson,

Power to pull down

the pillars and

Everlasting gates

of oppression

I rush headlong

Into my night,

Screaming

WAKANDA Forever!!!

(for Chadwick "Black Panther" Boseman)

-~Peace now, brother- ~

rhyme is perfection

verse be peace

whether by tortuous contortions

Or meandering trickles

let it rip

thought is as ether

diffusing within crags and craters

words are but embers

Fanned into fires

whether by volcanic rush

or by tidal flow

tonal eruption

Nuanced blow

by will or by wish

let it rip

and purge the soul.

Behind your back

eyes probe

In your face

tongues drip the toxin

of faux pleasantries

Turn

then same tongues fork

to spew ash of slander

They will talk to you

of the boss

to talk to the boss of you

I yet stand untainted

far from the madding throng

of workplace frenemies...

Atoms...

the silent laborers

of our humble, yet

precarious beginnings

In uproarious union,

committed to lend

unsolicited breath to

humanity

Yes, we, the undeservingly

loved offsprings of Nature,

of God, of Nature...

Yes, we, the everso

undeservingly loved

progeny of the God

of Nature

Drastically, gradually

evolved into creators

devolved into civilized cretins,

engineering destinies

destructing design

denying data

We,

of the specious

propensity to absolve

to vindicate.

to obfuscate the story

of our eternal sin

Ever seeking to hide

shame within the

dank dark depths of nothingness,

pretending it’s all escape

from the eternal wages

of our eternal sin

Ever

denying pain

denying aim

denying meaning

Hiding shame in death

Atoms don’t lie

don’t front

will carry on

transmuting in entropy

manifesting in enthalpy

transporting us and our

lowlier siblings

from

one state to the next

herenow to hereafter

for if life

bears no meaning,

Atoms labor in perilous vain

As

atoms are,

So are we forevermore.

Thwack!

Infant son on lap

Metes a friendly blow to face

I smile

He smiles

Let filial joy

Wash over us

Toddler daughter all up in TV’s face

Singing and jiving

To whatever’s on

She’s in a happy place

Wife ...

Now that's a beautiful light

That turned a dour fate

Into a marvelous thing

The kids would know

We would lend them wisdom

In due course

That this joy can’t be bought

Family.

Ladies and gents,

This right here is the m.o:

-Dumb down the citizenry, and imbue them with the Dunning-Kruger effect.

-INCARCERATE THEIR VERY SOULS IN THE GAOLS OF THEIR OWN BIGOTRY

-Indoctrinate them to perfection in cognitive dissonance, projection, whataboutism, misogyny, xenophobia, and a general fear of the “other”.

-Make hate central to their outlook on life. Tenderize them with hypocritical evangelicalism, illusory superiority, delusions of grandeur, and racial supremacy based on color.

-Be sure to keep them misinformed, miseducated, maladjusted.

-Then rob them blind to the point of abject impoverishment and dependence on welfare.

- Whatever you do, you MUST keep them believing that: the worst of them is better than the best of the other.

They will relinquish their power of the vote and many of their rights too, if you can successfully get them to subscribe to those sets of evils.

Always appeal to their WORST inclinations.

Dreamy soul

dreamy heart

Where do your thoughts

cast you this time?

Away!

from the balmy temperament

of the Texan dome

And set sail on a journey of joy

Leave behind that humid Houston

Zip past Texarkana

and its weird attempt at clever

What do you think

Do the bayous of La. stink

and gators slither majestic still?

Savor!

the manicured undulations

of your carefree joyride

through Arkansas

Ahh...

Nothing but road and sky!

Do the rolling hills of Tennessee

spellbind you in

irresistible awe

And glorious peaks still

chasing heavenward?

Ahh...

Nothing but road and sky!

Flash by those silent

Kentuckian forests

Scrape of rubber on tar

and Faith

your only guides through

the still nights of discovery

Get lost in the expanse

of The Mississippi’s marvel

Doesn’t the surface mirror

the vastness of space

and the quickening of time?

Go on!

Pass through the bridgegate

like a portal into -

Wow!

The lofty shine of Cincinnati

like a city of elves

Columbus beckons!

The cuddle and gentle repose

of Reynoldsburg

lie in enduring wait

to make kings and queens

of dreamy sojourners

Days roll

Benefits of daring

having thoroughly outweighed risks

of tarrying in the shackles of

comfort zones

Dreamy eyes wave reluctant Byes

to friends become family

Dreamy soul

longing heart

Where do your thoughts

cast you this time?

Back to the humid hustle

of H-Town

Are those grins

or groans and grumblings?

Fear is nothing but a snare

Turn arms into wings

and go see the world

Home is wherever the heart is

Ahh...

Nothing but road and sky.

You...

Don’t. Know. Me

Only the carefully curated

periphery.

The blurred out edges

The singed patina of dreams

The perfect incongruities

Of

My realities.

Oh,

how I defy your

expectations!

Moist heat hangs thick in the atmosphere, clinging tight unto balmy grease molecules, as if by a court-ordered matrimony. The very white of the sink, blotted out by an array of brushes, combs, colorful cans and innumerable bottles of various spritzes and ointments, designed with the promise and purpose of combating both frizz and kink. A steaming curling iron lies in a corner of the sink top like a monster in repose, calmly awaiting the next jaw-full of its already dead prey. It discriminates neither Virgin nor Brazilian; they being its staple and all. Strands of severed hair litter the floor and sink alike, left behind in the wake of the owner's haste. Quite a Freudian testament it sure is, this love affair between lady and hair that only lasts about three months or so.

Welcome to the kitchen...sorry...bathroom of the 21st Century woman.