Charlottesville 

Image credit goes to Jim Bourg at Reuters

when the light dims

and hate from the shadows

explodes into rancor headlines

man reveals beast 

our true colors, warped 

painting promises of a dark Prometheus 

they seek rabid rapture in oppression

hollow edged fists bear torches

obscuring our triumph, our passion, our poignancy

illuminating our savagery, our inhumanity, our bloodlust

the racism coiling sinuous leather lies in the name of progress

emboldened by leaders 

hungering for divides and distractions 

they march proudly 

into their sham conqueror’s high

old flags expose ancient hates in new masks

and pointing fingers meet screaming eyes

 

It is not enough to witness

It is not enough to condemn

It is not enough to disavow

Now, we must love

And act and hope and hurt and sob

Unite and fight and thrive and reach 

Revel in every single flavor of humanity

Live beyond our labels

And together, rise

 

Crowd

kerouac-4

a blanket of hurry

muffles the impatient horde

coloring the sidewalk

with a reverse rainbow of humanity

intimate strangers

breathing the same air

searching for spectacles

lost in a million million thoughts

a panoply of psyches

people at their worst,

unkind, self-involved, abrupt

ignoring

groping hands reach for benediction

averted eyes pretend not to see

those tarnished by the brush of “not enough”

but also the quiet moments of kindness

that have redeemed us since

before we could walk, grunting politely

at others in nearby caves

millenia later, we still strive for refuge

seeking sanctuary among the teeming masses

the blissful solace of losing yourself

in a sea of people

the wonder of crossing eyes,

skimming through briefly bare surfaces

more than connection

joined vulnerabilities

with someone you may never see again,

and can be utterly free with

*Image courtesy of this amazing new artist and blogger I just discovered: http://myscribbledsecretnotebooks.com/tag/painting-of-kerouac/

Stranger

What am I to you?

a stranger.

a dreamer.

a  curiosity.

Somebody worthy of your time,

or just another shuffled off to the margins.

we never think twice about

those we walk amongst.

we never stop to celebrate each other,

not for any special occasion,

but because of our beautiful potential.

I don’t know you

but I could.

Haven

The fray does not acknowledge me

But spirals on, unassuming.

Funny, how our private tragedies,

worldbreakers

that plunge us even further

through a miraged rock bottom,

are invisible to everyone else.

There is no crossing guard

proclaiming a firm neon ‘stop’

against the aggressive brute force

of an unhumdrum daily life.

Nobody to shout that I just need some air

a beat, a breath, relief.

To the world, I am a number.

Doctors, reps, CEOs, policymakers & power players

–whatever they call themselves–

all see us the same way.

they have already decided all that

I am

we are

and all that we can give

 

it’s time for us to turn ‘I’ to ‘we’ again

turn patches of hell

into pockets of haven

and prove them wrong.

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