A Cry to the Nation

What I see when I look out on these streets is

Swarming moving masses like the hardworking ant or the busy bee

Ambitious, striving to a certain goal

Uncaring, compassionless lacking in soul

They pass by the begging mother, the destitute brother

With a singular focus that never diverts to another

“Other;” that’s who you are, who we are

“An”other of those who aren’t active in furthering their lives

They treat us like trash and then ask why on welfare we reside

It’s an endless cycle that we can’t escape from

But they act like they’ve given us the tools when they’ve given us none

They act like they’ve been helping, but they’ve only been disrespecting

They have plenty of resources to spare, but nobody is sharing

It’s a constant struggle to survive

When we could get farther by repairing

And understanding

And coming to a place of open-mindedness

But ain’t nobody getting there

Until we open our hearts and share a little kindness

Instead, we just keep dissin’ and excuse my French, bitchin’

Everyone want their voices to be heard, but no one ready to listen.

Why does everyone act like issues are black or white,

When in reality they are so many shades of gray.

Is this what happened to the respect that we supposedly founded our nation?

What happened to using words with the right connotation?

Why can’t we look at one another and agree

That we are all sisters and brethren,

Is it too hard to have that expectation?

And what happened to all those who call themselves Christians?

The ones claim that they are at the cripple’s bedside with Him?

The ones that say that they ate and cried with Him?

The ones who supposedly bled and died with Him?

Are they just content to see as did the Pharisee

And Roman spectator another man be

Picked up and slaughtered for just saying what he believed?

If we are a people called apart from all the nations

Then we need to be the first to take a stand

And show them all that the love of God

Still lives in beating hearts in this land.

Is God on my side?

I don’t know.

Is God on their side?

I don’t think so.

But I think that my God doesn’t want

Either side shooting more people.

 

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Never Loved

Can you say that you actually loved him

With all those men that you’re rolling through,

Those comments you’re posting on the internet,

The unprecedented shade you’re throwing,

Blasting on him to whoever who will listen?

Good girl gone bad my bootylicious ass,

You were that way right from the start.

The way that you carry yourself tells me different,

You never really loved him to begin with.

 

 

The Willow of Richmond Street

In the spreading willow branches

I find myself swinging into the clouds,

Grabbing onto it’s long, tendrils and spiraling myself

                   Down,

                                                                    Down,

          Down,

                                         Down.

Leaving those budding branches of life

Reaching into open air and crashing onto the ground

Sending uprooted dirt into the air

Like a less flashy Fourth of July

Splintering, pushing and breaking all the objects

That came in between the reestablished relationship

That I and the earth had rekindled.

Such was the death of the 43 year old Willow tree

That my father planted upon attaining this house.

Scene #2: Guangdong Province

I wonder what she felt

When she was dragged out

Of the family house

Into the dense jungle behind it

The aching, hot sun above her

 

I wonder if she heard

The rumors before the

Rovers came rolling into the village

 

The odd language

That the translator was using

 

I wonder if she could smell

The fear, confusion and hope

In the sweat rolling

Off her mother’s body

Mixing into the wet soil

 

I wonder if she could see

What happened next

Her neighbor stepping out

Into that hot midday sun

Into merciless gunfire

 

I wonder if she could taste

The screams of her village

The blood and flames in the air

As it was annihilated

And the others could only

Cower and pray in horror

To Buddha or Confucius

Hoping that that the jungle

Would provide itself a friend

From their invaders

 

I wonder what she understood

I wonder what it did to her

I wonder how it affected her

Afterall,

My PoPo was only 6 years old