Meaningless, all those hours you spent, Raising your voices, lifting your glasses To Cheer. It was meaningless, harboring that hatred, For a man's skin color and shouting The South shall rise again, everywhere, For their health is endangered while Their mouths run, compassion wins. Meaningless challenges the courts Rule: that the poor can be healthy, Rule: that insurance is a right If you pay for it, and you will pay For it, because we aren't grown up, Not enough that it matters, To hand our gratuitous illusionary cash Over to social programs. To a single system. Meaningless, the lack of tact To hammer over and over what the masses Refuse to understand, that they are part, The most important part, for they work at the Bottom of a triangle and seek to pull themselves From poverty. So they shouted, hated, hurt Made bleed when all they had to do was share. Meaningless, the first one hundred days, While apes jump up and down as the President Learns to color and write his name. Meaningless his statement of KING. I acknowledge no king, emperor, ruler, Whose hearing aid and heart are missing. Meaningless, caught in a box crayons Without benefit of a piece of paper That says "In pursuit of happiness." Scoffing, I bow to mediocrity, pretend I can understand...But I don't. It's all meaningless.
“We the People of the United States, in Order to form a more perfect Union, establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defence, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America.”
Oh, my, the face of the political machine. Grim faces, hollow eyes, lies after lie, One citizen who stands, remembers, raises a fist protesting, In a game, a silly game, where men tackle men, Where brains are shaken, battered and bruised, So that humans may be equal. Why his fist now? Why raised in protest? His brothers in arms, From the streets he escaped, are beaten, broken, With trials valid only in confusion. Murder and Murderers wear badges that shame the men and Women who give their hearts to the law. Young black women, volleyball champions, From a high school, a high school that Sent countless youth to futures lacking hope, now those That were uncertain, rise. With pride born of knowledge, These teenagers, born in the poor side of town, Bear witness to the deeds of the bully pulpit. Against Which female athletes rise for equality that Great-grandmothers and fathers raised in conflict earned. Denied for decades, for a century now. Time flies, promises fall And the hatred based on color, sexual preference, sex. Even sex still. An amendment to a constitution that Gave women the power to make decisions, to be independent, Yet we are dictated as to how our lives must center itself on trust, Color should be celebrated. Voices raised in black churches. Voices raised in protest. Signs written, petitions filed, Congressmen and women elected that see us, hear us, raise us to The seriousness of action, against inaction, refusing quiet. These must become our battle flag. A voice that steadies. So powerful that it rocks a nation of quiet shame, Of angry men and women, of injustices and just protests. We allow the beatings of First Nation peoples as their Water turns black with oil and greed. Tall and proud They stand, fearing nothing but inaction. A president Feeding on the profits he earns while his ears are closed To the Appeal for commonsense. We should be a Nation Of commonsense, looking for the future of all of us. "We the people" in earnest reformation "Of the United States of America" the beautiful, the possible. "For liberty and Justice for all" shall carry a message of the cause Justice, Of the welfare promised, of the charge that we be given "happiness." For "We the People of the United States, in Order to form A more perfect Union, establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defense, promote The general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty To ourselves and our Posterity, do ordain and establish This Constitution for the United States of America." This is the promise for which protests are just. This the hope of the poor, to be seen and raised. The middle class, the wealthy. How mighty the voice As it pours into the streets? A wave of determination. Protestors meet immigrants with signs. Hello! Welcome! Mighty the wave of compassion while we are poisoned By the water we buy. Action instead of promises broken. Promise that we are the real voice of our nation, The serious citizens of the United States, willing to resist Compounding moments of shame formed by greed, fear and hate. An interest rate we are unwilling to pay anymore. We are, Willing to love, include, protest for equality and against a voice that should never have emerged. The ugly voice of racism, hatred, fear and indifference. Pledging allegiance to a flag of action. Protecting The welfare of all Americans, not just the few. Brothers, Fathers, Sisters, Mothers bring your seriousness To bear on the foolishness of folly in office. We are a union of action shouting at the sound of profit Born on the backs of the common citizen who works. Serious times need serious measures they say. We rise to the Call for justice for all, just like we pledged In elementary schools, middle schools, military, congresses Where the idea of patriotism was a promise to action. Raise fists so that truth will come. We rise. We pledge.
GUARD | STRANGE | RIVER | LAND | MIND The challenge is to use these five words in an original work of writing. I love these types of Challenges. It gives me words that I might not put together myself, to be used to create a picture in the mind. This poem is from a dreamer watching where dreams come from.
It was strange,
to see night fall from our dreams
bringing a river of light to bear,
drowning the moon without
insights into the mind
of the dreamer.
An unusual land, Dreams,
lacking the guards of civility while
blooming weeds the colors of
watching as they
fall into night’s place.
It was strange to see night fall
into our realities only to be resented
for being unique.
If you are Caucasian, they
don’t give you the right to color.
You are branded by incandescent
Light bulbs which bleach and leach the
Color out of your existence.
“Be remorseful, for this is your done deed.”
But I’m not remorseful, no, not me.
I’m not a defiler, derider, denier.
I am the daughter of the 60s, born in the 50s,
Sent into the future, now past, to be.
Yes, to be liberal, caring, sharing.
Don’t blame my color for the criminal’s
Crime. I fought for us, the social bottom.
Where my eyes have always been open,
My family fought to insure their message would survive.
I’m not to blame for other handheld knives
In throats blameless and innocent.
There is a knife in my throat, exposing me
As red blooded human in the act of surviving.