Tag Archives: racism

NO CELEBRATION

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I celebrate every child’s birth.

I celebrate no man’s death.

I smile at every child’s birth.

I cry at every man’s death.

I do, however, celebrate, or not, the in-between

where a man’s lived-life is truly seen.

I celebrate a man of compassion,

whose common goals derive from a passion

to welcome diversity and inclusion,

where women are equals with no confusion,

where equal rights is not an illusion,

where religion is not a quote but an action,

where selflessness helps everyone gain satisfaction.

I do not celebrate those whose false ego and pride

make money a god of hate and division.

I can mourn such a death, and not celebrate it.

I can  mourn such a life, and not celebrate it.

Death closed a door that no one should open.

No celebration of life nor death can erase truth as we know it.

Find reasons to love those hurting and sorrowful.

But, make no excuses for what was so horrible. 

Speak not evil of the dead.

Nothing more to be said.

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THE PERFECT STORM

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We are in the midst of a perfect storm.

Those who seek perfection, especially

a perfection to match themselves,

which they consider the norm,

relish the chaos which leads astray

a nation once dedicated to the proposition

that “all men are created equal 

and endowed by their creator with the right

to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.”

What a lovely concept in sunny weather,

on a clear blue day.

But, those seeing red over perceived imperfection

cannot tolerate those who refuse to let the imperfect

get in the way of the possible.

They prefer to cut programs and taxes,

to keep their money in their own pockets,

show their personal largesse to those deemed worthy.

If only, they could see their own imperfections clearly.

We would not be in this frightful storm.

The winds of fascism and authoritarianism stir wildly

every manner, moral tome, and rule of law, and norm.

The rain of terror by masked militia in our streets

is more costly than housing the homeless,

feeding the hungry, educating our young people

who live with expectations of defeat.

The young see their pursuit of happiness and their freedom

being washed away, with inequality laid at their feet.

I do not believe in perfection. 

There are few perfect days.

Clouds are born by winds unseen 

shadowing perfection and laying it aside

while violent storms brew.

I do not seek the impossible. 

It is too costly and uncontrollable.

I know no policy nor program is perfect, as is no man.

Nothing makes us greater than to simply understand

we are all flawed human beings doing the best we can.

There can be no apology for silently marveling 

and supporting these dark days.

The perfect see no reason to apologize

for the greater wisdom of their ways.

We are left to raise umbrellas 

to protect as many as we can.

But, umbrellas are no match for perfect storms

created by our fellow man.

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NO!

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The strongest word in any language is “NO”.

It is every child’s first word for a reason.

To a toddler’s parent it is treason.

It carries more weight than cuddles or cudgels

used to reprimand, remand and reform.

Its power can overturn threats and intimidation.

Its shout can garner attention and create  doubt.

Its momentum can move mountains about.

Its clarity quickens response to its shame.

It calls attention to errors or cheats in any game.

It works where no other method succeeds

to enforce self-interest’s vitality and need.

Its surprise increases the ability to annoy.

“NO!” can be weakened if too late employed

Authoritarian rule is under attack

every time the word “NO!” is shouted back.

“No!” used in concert create symphonic dissent,

until the whole world rises to up-end

intimidation by armed and masked men

who invade our streets and use force to bend

our knees and our minds and our very lives.

When will such madness end ?

When more “NO” is heard than “yes”.

On such “NO!” does one’s freedom depend.

Every child knows this to be true.

Speak your “NO!” now before freedom is lost

to me, to all of us, even to you.

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NO RETREAT

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My country is not being stolen.

It is being sold to the highest bidder.

Wealth and power

are the voices of the hour.

Not unexpected 

in a consumerism frenzy

fueled by media and investors.

Capitalism has its own axes to grind.

Now, it seems to grind down me and mine.

Turning to fascism is an easy turn of face

for a people untroubled by greed and hate;

for a nation  built on slavery and Jim Crow,

and denial of women’s rights to earn and grow

at the same pace, with the same grace,

all men seem entitled to know.

Religion once again is used to shame

and disgrace anyone unwilling

to bend the knee to fake gods

and destroy all faith

in a democratic republic of equals

with equal rights to remain free

of religious bigotry.

This is an old story, one we left behind

to build a new nation inspired by the divine

rights of all men and women to be free.

Now thugs are granted bounties

to place their heels on our necks.

Military mission which once defended

is now on our own streets, its purpose up-ended.

Wealth and power which once plundered

third world nations for fossil fuel and cash

now plunders our economy and middle class.

Science  once built a solid foundation

for a healthy, productive nation.

All our scientists built is now being turned to ash.

Massive turnouts in the streets.

Massive turnout at polls complete

our voices shouting, “ no retreat! ”

“No retreat! No retreat!”

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PUTINIZATION NATION

AI generated image

We now live in 

Putin’s America.

Thanks to all of you

who voted

for Trump/Vance

and every republican

in every state house

in every political position.

I could not feel more derision

for you and what you do

every day you stay

silent,

unapologetic,

absolutely pathetic.

A country I thought you loved

more than you hated

women and people of color,

the disabled, war veterans,

children and the elderly,

homosexual and transgendered.

I underestimated your greed.

I underestimated your need

to make yourself

feel better than someone,

than anyone,

else.

I lost your pulse.

My bad!

And, I know you blame me,

and every liberal,

compassionate,

forward thinking

person you see.

So, you bend the knee

and deny democracy

its rightful place

in American History.

Our loss is Putin’s gain.

Your patriotism

has always been feigned.

Mine, yet remains.

My country may not.

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HEAVEN ON EARTH

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I have no knowledge of Heaven.

I have never been there,

except in dreams.

One thing I do know.

It must be a place where I

am surrounded by goodness,

fairness, compassion

and loving kindness

all of the time.

Heaven is the type of space

where hate has no place.

The sign in my yard

declares it to be so.

But, as we all know,

My selfish concerns sometimes show.

Creating a heaven on earth

may be an impossibility

because of my fragility

and lack of humility.

My human state has a dearth

of courageous purity.

Yet, still, I shall try to create

Heaven on Earth 

as a constant state.

The lack of goodness surrounds me

all too often these cruelty-laden days.

Kindness is the only way to delay

the triumph of evil over good.

I ask all those in my neighborhood

to join my effort, feeble though it be.

Any small kindness is stronger than cruelty.

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AWAKENED

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This is no way to wake up.

Perhaps, it has become the only way.

We may have stayed asleep too long.

we may have missed the call

of our immigrant ancestors.
We may have been too deep in our own dreams.

We may not have heard the alarm

in the voices of those awake,

and made to suffer

while we dreamt on.

We may have found dreams

easier to focus beyond

the painful reality

that comes with the dawn.

Becoming awake means

it is not too late

to set aside hate

which weakens all bonds,

and love our country enough

to make it strong enough

to end the nightmares.

We can and we must 

awaken to a new dawn.

I am awake and I quake

in the light made by evil heat

that feels punishing and wrong. 

Today, I uneasily awake

determined to push on

past those who tell us

some of us

do not belong.

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KNIVES AND FORKS

“A lot of people don’t have much food on their table

But they got a lot of forks and knives

And they gotta cut somethin’ “

-TALKIN’ NEW YORK, Bob Dylan, 1962

It all looks so normal out there

Sitting in a garden chair

Winds drying out the humid air.

Children ride their bikes in the street

Shouting out challenge to those they meet.

Everything looks tidy and neat

Like the 1200 men stowed like trash behind the door

Confined to Cecot, deprived of the rule of law

Hidden and forbidden to leave El Salvador.

Only a few are known criminals, most with misdemeanors 

Like parking tickets, who need an intervenor

To explain confining the innocent is certainly meaner

Than recognizing fraternities are simply rich kids’ gangs

And poverty creates such hunger pangs

That forks are not much use and knives have to cut

Something.

Following daily routines can also be mean

When we ignore so easily the suffering of the poor

So easily victimized while we stand with false pride

Crying on social media at what we have lost,

Free to do so without much cost

Until we discover it is too late to shut the garden gate

And take to the streets dodging kids on  bikes

And march in the parks alongside dogs on the leash

As we try not to see how leashed we are.

This is not normal. We are not normal. 

We search to find normal any way we can, just

Something

before the knives come out.

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LAST BREATH

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What is the period of mourning

when a nation dies before our eyes?

Not in sudden cardiac arrest,

not like a slow cancer.

nor a natural aging

of its body politic.

But, like a chronic illness

which has worsened over time,

sometimes in remission

allowing hope to remain alive.

But, when death’s grip pries

the life from every cell

which protected a nation from demise

and its heartbeats accelerate

at a far too barbaric rate,

what then? How can hope survive

when our national freedom dies?

The violence, the bombs, the rubbled ruin 

comes after the next election, I fear. 

The election may save us from loss

of freedom, but at a cost.

Like Ukraine, we can take a nation back

by electing constitutional, loyal leaders

and set our enemies off to the side.

Like Ukraine, our enemies will regroup

and ferociously and physically attack

what they could not seize by stealth.

They will never let go of power and wealth

which we allowed them to take during this

DOGE-dealing, Heritage Foundation steal.

Courts may save us for a time.

But, be prepared.Everything is on the line.

And the mourning is ever-ceasing

for those who see the fate

of a nation which for too-long

embraced its power and its wealth, 

and allowed itself to hate.

Slavery was our original sin and set the stage

for all the other hate and division

that has led to this time of fear and outrage.

How long is the mourning period for such a loss?

It has been my entire life; yet, my hope has endured.

But, my body senses death at my nation’s door.

And, I fear I simply cannot take it anymore.

What is the end to this period of mourning?

Every cell in the body politic is warning

that this nation, our beloved nation

may be close to its last breath.

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MAGA LESSON 1

AI created image “Trump”

The most difficult words to say

without reason nor rhyme

are “The failure is all mine.”

Even when failure brings such relief,

as the end succeeds the means,

it destroys our firm belief

in our omnipotence and grief,

and makes victims of us all

But victimhood is no more true

than the lie we tell ourselves

that we are better than you.

An un-truth we gleefully claim

to avoid our deepest shame

that we are not enough to win the game.

Shame is at the heart of every false start.

To admit we are in need leads 

to greed and every evil deed,

while self-care falls aside

to save our wounded pride.

Shameful hurts grow in number day by day.

We build walls to keep them, and shame away.

Walls become our gaol as we hide ourselves inside.

Then, we blame those left behind and locked outside.

We are alone in our togetherness; together in our aloneness.

And the rest of the world marches on by.

Shame never takes a break, nor rests

while we destroy what and who we know are best.

That is the only way to win, and then we whine

with shrugs and say, “The failure is not mine.”

One cannot shame a bully more 

than a bully shames himself.

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