Freedom, the right to become nothing, build nothing, think nothing. One of my favorite poets is Langston Hughes, a dreamer, there are many others as well? A poet’s soul is deep; it creates in us the need to revise, revise, and revise. Children are grand poets, clean, clear minds not yet destroyed by society, or filled with myths, threats and social prejudices. Yet, many of the greatest poets are those who have experienced love, hate, social injustice and despair.
My poetry is filled with experience, it includes family injustice, personal despair, and yes hate. I can only express my love as I have known it, my children has been the foundation of my love from the moment of their births; therefore, I do know love; expressing it has not found a place in my well of words. The intensity of expression of my feelings and ideas has individual style and rhythm. They come from that place within me that stays hidden from the outside world. My poetry frequently tells a story filled with dark drama, it is unique in style. Most time comes from either my spiritual, emotional, or psychological state; individually or all towering over me like a cloud.
The poem below comes from that place within me that fears for the future of our “Nation”.
America appears to be on “Crack”
And, America appears to be like someone
who has red ants in their pants; run, run, run.
Washington is filled with bizarrely benign,
relics, America is not going forward toward
the light; it is rushing backwards into the
Brewing storms, ranting, not caring or
watching for the snap of a jaw that destroys
us all. Politics are gnawed on by every
American adult. Politicians spewing remarkable
lies. If here, if Moses were here, he would be
raising his arms to the questioning white faces.
What will our future be now that the world is
turned upside down? A former leader believing
that he was God’s right hand man, piloting a
desecration of an American sacred building;
one built from stone and bone.
Atlantis buried under ice one day here, the
next gone. Will America slip quietly into the
dark ocean? Americans, a blip in the history of
mankind, live, die, decide. A great black distance
looms over the people as they curl themselves
around the flames of non-responsibility. They
should want to escape from the lie strewn plains
and mountains of our country; yet, their eyes
dark pools of blindness.
America appears to be on “Crack”.