Wednesday, October 27, 2010

Change Never Changes, Nothing's Ever Safe

Things constant in my childhood:
Adam Ant on the radio
"The Panda Palace"
Mom's scent after work
As fast as a bullet, things can come and go.
No preparation.

He sat next to me in three classes at Temecula Middle School.

Not a huge talker.
I could wring out a sentence.
6th grade, 7th grade, and 8th.
P.E., English, Math, Social Studies.
He would see it coming, and so talking was less of an interrogation.

We didn't talk after middle school.
Our simple talks were not in vain.
You learn from others, from strangers.

You form and grow and each person has a role in your life to shape even the smallest aspect of you.

Unlike people, memories never change. 
His father died, his father's girlfriend, and then himself.
ABC 7 told me so.

No preparation.

As fast as a bullet can come and go, so did he.

A Clean Cut to the Heart (If You're Capable of Mercy)

You want to see me cry? Show me my loves ones torn down.
Show them in pain, silenced and beaten into submission.
Show me every detail that separates a man from a monster.
Show me what is right in America,
Show me what it is not to be white.

"For my God, for my country, for my family..." I pray for your soul.

Tell me that there is nothing I can do to save them all.
Show me a child that  says ‘nigger’, ‘japs’, ‘jew’ all because his father or mother showed him how.
Show me how you tell a black man to go back to Africa when he's never been, when your forefathers brought his forefathers here on a slave ship.
Tell a Hispanic student he's taking a learning opportunity away from a white student.
Call an immigrant an alien or an illegal when they are a citizen.
Plant these infectious seeds of bigotry into future America,
lie to your recruitments and say that you're just like them.
Make me watch it on Television, in the news, through music, and  fix my thoughts to remember firsthand accounts.

You’ll see my walls torn down and my tough-gal act demolished.
Hold me in place, and make me watch.
Whisper in my ear how lucky I am. 
Tell me I can’t save the world. 
Tell me that we’re not all equal.
Tell me these are NOT my people, and I can’t save them all.
Show me the symbols you tattoo and wear like a purple heart.
Show me you’re wrong, misinformed, malicious interpretation of love.
Show me how you take in stray children and teach them what "love" is.

Tell me we’re not a melting pot, and that a part of me will be found dead, hanging in a tree.
Tell me Racism is what we need to keep The People safe.
Show me segregation, say those words of hatred my  tongue cannot even form.
 Tell me the world is hell-bound and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.

You’ll see me on my knees, begging God to forgive you, even though you’re not asking for it.
And these eyes ,that have seen this powerful wave of animosity, will never be dry again. 

Monday, October 18, 2010


It's funny, I have two eyes and I never saw what lied ahead.
His rapid breathing and his precious cry made me soft.
This creature slowly opens his eyes and I see him.
He's so soft, so warm, and he smells so fresh.
To think, before then, bitterness struck 
the words born from my mouth
spoke harshly and selfishly
(without a thought)
abort it.

Wednesday, October 6, 2010

Our Not So All-of-Sudden Downfall

It shatters a thousand ways
They try to pick up the remnants
so as to leave in one piece

Authority is a dangerous gift.
The words affect them stronger than sticks,
and flog them shamefully better than any stone.

The sweet pleasure of brotherhood,
becomes just a fantasy,
along with everything else we're told as kids.

It's the scene from "The Lottery."
All are torn down,
belittled and stripped of any self-dignity.

Crowds huddle around and laugh at your misfortunes they've claimed as your own.
Stolen value is smeared into the dirt with heavy black shoes,
and kicked to the curb into the gutter's green slime.

What monster could have so much power,
 make you  lower your head from the skies to Earth?
You? Me?