Raw Kale Salad With Sprouts
Thursday, May 3, 2012
The Future
I think of
capitalism.
I think of our
ancestors.
I think of dead
animals, and decay festered.
I think of pain
and sorrow.
I think of
terror, of eyes hollow.
I think of
sadness and grief.
I think of
genocidal mischief.
I think of
greed and selfishness.
I think of
mania, of madness.
I think of
oppression.
I think of the
lessons.
I think of
tears.
I think of
fear.
I think of
confusion.
I think of
transfusion.
I think of
murder, of killing.
i think of
blood-spilling.
I think of
black smoke and black oil.
I think of
polluted soil.
I think of
slavery.
I think of
depravity.
I think of
servitude.
I think of
rotten fruit
I think of
anger.
I think of
danger.
I think of a
new system.
I think of new
rhythms.
I think of
possibilities.
i think of
smiles and free.
I think of what
we don't waste.
i think of the
wonderful tastes.
I think of
human potential.
i think of the
sexual and sensual.
I think of
sharing.
i think of
declaring.
I think of
communality.
I think of
travel being free.
I think of
revolution.
I think of clear
not illusion
I think of
ending poverty.
I think of
equality
I think of
happiness, of laughter.
I think of
slower not faster.
I think of the
future.
i think of
nurture
I think of
celebrations.
I think of
elevations
I think of
living.
i think of
giving.
I think of
green trees and blue oceans.
I think of
trillions of bees and forward motion.
I think of an
end to inheritance.
I think of no
one born rich.
I think of
living wages.
I think of
healthy babies.
I think of a
system for and by the people.
I think of a
secular and not steeple.
I think of the
things that could go wrong.
I think of the
struggle to get it right.
I think of a
mutable and supple vision in sight.
I think of how
people don't understand it.
I think of
redundant pundits who twist the words.
I think of
trying to end wars.
I think of more
jobs and opportunities.
I think of new
buildings and infrastructure.
I think of
workers and the poor.
I think of no
boys and girls as cannon fodder.
I think of no
prison industrial complex.
I think of good
schools and food for youth.
I think of
health care and healthy tooth.
I think of food
in abundance.
I think of
love.
I think of love
for one another.
I think of love
of ourselves.
I think of love
for our world.
I think of love
for our future.
I think of revolution.
May Day
May Day: May the workers of the world sleep deeply through the night without dreams of drudgery and slog. May the encumbering doom of debt and poverty be lightened for a day. May our insufficient meals fill our bellies and our children not cry out in hunger. May every mother’s childbirth go without complications and those with young child, let their breasts swell with milk. May we reject this alienation by meeting eyes with our comrades and dredge deeply for a smile knowing we toil the same berth, under the same sun, with the same two hands. May we be internationalists thinking beyond borders, religions, and ethnicity. May we consider Mother Africa—envisage this Earth and all her living things and our relation to them. May our pains—our sickness—our apathy smother under the weightiest of all human love. May we feel as one, remembering our power and our potential. May we not abandon political prisoners confined in cages, punished for fighting for our equality and freedom. May we hear the whispers of our ancestors on the wind at our backs, nudging us forward. May we not concern ourselves with victory or failure, but permanent praxis and pedagogy. May the fear, which paralyzes us, melt in the honeyed rain of solidarity. May we find our vision, our assurance, and our endeavor for utopia. May we move forward with the knowledge of the suffering wrought and confront our collective shame by social restitution instead of popular culture and pharmaceutical drugs. May strikes flourish all over the world, people standing on the streets and roads singing together the ballads of revolution.
Stormed In
Stormed In
Please let the
rain,
wash away your kisses
As I stumble from the,
taste of your skin
Please let the storm,
uproot me from my failures
And the wind steal back,
my pathetic words again
Please let the darkness,
envelop me in its gird
As the thunder,
drowns out my weeping
Please let the lightning strike me,
and stop my internal grieving
And let the shivering cold shake me,
into a million scattered parts
Please let me find myself awaken,
in a filthy puddle
As I crumble into,
tiny clumps of soil
Please let my love be there,
when you have trouble
And your memories,
of me bring you joy
wash away your kisses
As I stumble from the,
taste of your skin
Please let the storm,
uproot me from my failures
And the wind steal back,
my pathetic words again
Please let the darkness,
envelop me in its gird
As the thunder,
drowns out my weeping
Please let the lightning strike me,
and stop my internal grieving
And let the shivering cold shake me,
into a million scattered parts
Please let me find myself awaken,
in a filthy puddle
As I crumble into,
tiny clumps of soil
Please let my love be there,
when you have trouble
And your memories,
of me bring you joy
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