the problem with social consciousness…
the rebuttals
my homie said,
you know what’s coming next after this black lives matter moment is over
I said, nuh uhn, what?
he posed, what’s the most disrespectful thing you can say when someone is talking to you?
I responded, I don’t know, umm… what you gunna do bout it?
he laughed his answer, “ok…you done?”
as if to say, “next” disrespectful, feigning disregard and lack of care
almost as if the moments in the light was to pacify a child
and I laughed, knowing it’s so true, but said, “they better not!”
it won’t be said clearly like that, but that is what they’ll be saying
because the powers that be understand that its not who laughs first
but in this case, it’s different
because they laughed first and as far as they are concerned
will have the last laugh
this is why some black people are in denial ignorantly hopeful and optimistic,
as to assuage more defeat and demoralization
and counter to that
this is why some black people are just realistically pessimistic, understanding a deeper truth that most rather live in oblivious denial or conscious acceptance of
as to continue the comfort in the reality they choose to accept
and this is what causes impulsive fury and rage amongst this other half of black people
while others on the outside looking in, nab at their tactics and justify a process of civility which has not been allotted to those that suffer in acquiesced submission and enforced and forced upon silence
they see how the world works
and it’s never be in their favor
so they do with what they have, per the options they have
making something from nothing
sometimes by high spirited resilience and ingenuity
and at other times
by an infuriatingly tired and hopeless any means necessary attempt at survival
righting the many wrongs that not only plagued their ancestors
but also their daily life,
stripping any chance at innocence and independence
that should be the promise of each human soul growing into adulthood
as far as they are concerned,
that choice was made for them before they were born
and so the choices they make often is a matter of life or death
so when it comes to perception with the choices they finally make,
to speak as a matter of fact,
they could give a fuck
because deep down they know, beyond appearances
most don’t give a fuck
and the powers that be, definitely give no fucks
oh and if you are confused by my use of the powers that be
and would like to know who I am referring to
well then you are more lost than them
and ignorance must be such an enjoyable ignorance
I know people that would kill to be afforded that ignorance-
and the privilege, potential, and perceptions that come along with
Unrecognizable
they are dead
what they once were
they are no longer
so tell me
if a glow fades
if the sun shades
if a light dims into darkness
can it ever know,
and find light again
or will it forever be in the shadows-
clawing and nipping at the edges-
of what they once were,
who they once were
and how they once shined
never again seeing themselves in the light
Worth More Alive than Dead, but Death Costs Less
People,…
Peeeeople, I was once knew as warriors, are now dead…dead inside, and dead outside, they don’t look the same, bodies fattened, cheeks blotted, eyes glazed, or darkened and dull as if the vessel is empty of anything, giving visual to the decrepitude of their once strong lean and life/prisoned hardened stature
However the world may see these men, they were warriors, now they are zombies. The “Pill Line” as long and trafficked as San Francisco’s rush hour on the freeway, or they mumble around looking for the drugs, and when the drugs are barren, the void gets filled with aggression, because the escape is no longer possible, and the depth of their reality hits them
These were my friends, these were men I looked up to, these were boys I grew up with, all inside of this jungle, but the jungle has eaten them whole. And the world outside of here, is but a myth, am urban legend, once made real and manifest, but now as far away as the dreams spoken of from childhood
All that exists here is the constant ominous nightmare of reality, the ever-reaching fingers of demons, the latching shadows that hide as the sun snoozes, and the ghosts of regret of yesterdays too far away to believe as real
Or a figment of an imagined life so long ago that fairy tales persist as desperation that turned into criminality, per societies perception, then unforgiving plea deals, guilty verdicts, and sentencing structures that would hold John Starks from “demolition man” in cryostasis
But the only thing frozen is their hoping hearts, and nothing…NOTHING is preserved, because the light has flickered, and is all but gone
Where have I gone, where did I go, where have I been, because this isn’t where I left. This is what it looks like when love, freedom, and the world leaves you, but this is where my purpose left off, and this is where I continue on from
Because there is no place like home
but this is no place like home
because there is no place
and this is no home
this is a morbid apocalyptic limbo,
where fog clouds your footsteps
mist dampens your mood
accompanied by a nefarious gloomy glow
with hollow moans and howls in the distance
this is the lonely in between,
where the soul has left,
and the body hasn’t learned how to let go…yet
this isn’t a creative work
this is the reality here, and it hurts
society has clearly determined worth
and c.o.’s are just mortician assistants at work
oh, and to compound, and somehow make this sound worst
a man just spent 23yrs behind these walls
and right before he could get out
he had a heart attack,
dying that very night on the operator’s table
he was state property
Nebraskan State Property
Product of Structuralized and Systemic Injustice
an Item of the Industrial Prison Complex
a Victim of Mass Incarceration within a state that refuses to alleviate
audaciously proposing another prison built
so they won’t lose a penny to be collected
maximizing their money’s worth
and they stripped him bear
maybe deciding he wasn’t worth
the extra care of medical work
and so like a slave that died in the heat of the unforgiving sun
he collapsed in the field
giving all he had
right before his walk to his earned freedom
breathing his last breath
succumbing to a premature death
so you can imagine the heavy swallows
and hurting hearts
stroking the mood of this yard
and fear and pain resonating on faces and in voices
with only one of two ways to cope
to deal
to decompress
and that’s head to the freeway
or decide to walk that far lonely painful walk away
and deal with this reality man to man
knowing that loss and losing
is just as realistic-
as it being them breathing their last breath
because he wasn’t the first comrade fallen
and he won’t be the last
because we are worth more alive than dead
and so the sentence holds onto us for as long as it can
but when the cost of staying exceeds the projected worth
death, is much cheaper!
I can’t be my brother’s keeper
when there’s nothing and no one left to keep
and death seems to only be
housekeeping
Asking for me, but answer for you
how often do you take time to question your “why’s”
is it questions, or answers, which make you wise?
who are you?
why are you?
what are you?
when are you?
where are you?
how are you?
are you growing to become?
are you becoming to adapt?
are you adapting and became?
or have you become your growth?
will you let it be what it shall?
or shall it be what it is?
yea yea I know, I get it
all these questions got you going in circles
but not knowing your own answers-
has always had you living in circles
and I get that “too” many questions,
can get “too” confusing
but honestly,
I’m confused by people that don’t ask enough…questions
Bordered Up
boundaries create lines
lines not to be crossed without permission
but before there were lines
there was free terrain
and the freedom to explore
travels, journeys, expeditions, explorations, discoveries, and conquests
these things were considered adventure
all with a freedom that didn’t create hate
separating people from their spirits and true natures
a freedom that didn’t thirst in conquering people and mother nature
a freedom that didn’t keep people out, thriving to understand, not dominate
a freedom that didn’t divide people based on color
what was color anyway?
freedom of seeking and destiny
new boundaries created artificial lines-
coveting land as if it became slave to the exploits of man
and these artificial lines bordered ourselves in and others away
away from humanity
away from familiarity, communion, and acculturation
away from understanding
away from empathy
now, bordering us within indifference
within seclusion and hate
aligning race, separating colors, and dominating genders
now to think of it
personal boundaries are both a luxury,
and an oppressive tool
a tool we ignorantly use-
hammering the sole right of each individual,
at the expense of growing self, and knowing others
without reflection and historical awareness on how the nature of these drawn lines, borders, and boundaries came to be destructive
as to create them with a higher mind
we just get caught up in our own bubbles
wanting to own space in a world that was created for us all equally
of course, there are personal lines that are deserving of privacy
but since I’m on the topic of boundaries and borders
they do give a good sense of safety
but also a compass of power and the powerless
but who and what do they keep us safe from,
and who becomes more powerful and powerless because of them?
well if I’m speaking directly, historically, currently, and objectively
we can’t adhere to the assented societal minimization of things making issues solely about themselves and their experience
because it creates an atmosphere of fear-mongering
responded to with attitudes of self-preservation
I just thought I’d shine a light on three groups of people here in America
three groups of people affected the most by borders and boundaries
at one point, this land that we call America wasn’t divided
and yes, times evolve
although we call it the United States of America, United amongst its separations
but money created the divisions in this country
This was the wide and vast terrain of Native Americans
where are they now?
a silent, forgotten genocide
they also warred, bled, and died for and on this land
the land of their ancestors
The Mexicans at the border used to roam these lands as well,
after all, the landmass was connected
where are they now?
trying to get in by any means, and being kept out by the border
they also warred, bled, and died for and on this land
part of the land of their forefathers
And a little bit of historical context,
Africans that had traveled, shared culture, and commerced within these lands that are split by borders
centuries later they were bought, enslaved, and brought into this land
charged with building it
where are they now?
freely oppressed with nothing to show for it
the very system creating impoverished and gentrified communities,
it’s constructed highways and intrusive corporations-
separating and endangering the poorer
taking even more land for itself
in the name of “creating jobs”
with perceptual biases keeping them further than arms reach from self-determination and ownership in many respects still in this country
a country they also warred, bled, and died for, and in
But spoils of war goes the boundaries
and up goes the borders
and down goes the communities
and away with civility and humanity
because I guess we as people are too pretentious and incapable at times
so inter-personality needs to be structured with borders
insert:
social distancing through social media, pandemics, workforce, legislation, and school curriculum
I wonder…
who was this land opened for during reconstruction?
like I know we say immigrants
but at what time of history
and what color of people did America loud horn- “bring your sick, your poor, your…”
well you get the message
In Trump’s words and world,
those people wouldn’t have came from what’s been considered as-
“shit hole countries”
my, oh my, how the times have changed
Still dream, my honey roasted caramel-colored black Kings
and they say TV isn’t informing
but I worry about the stories they are and aren’t reporting
because some people say color is just a thing
but the British royalty would say my sons are too dark to be kings
and I can only hope that they are not seeing
though they shouldn’t run from the truth and its meanings
because truth should never limit their dreams
and how they are seen
my sons, you both can be anything
but the sad truth-bearing a lie is that,
color is, JUST, a thing
but color is, MORE, than a thing
yet when I see you two, I see not a thing
nor things
because it’s with pride, joy, and knowing that makes me gleam
seeing two ultra-extreme star-like light beams
both handsome and strong with infinite potential beyond any means,
with deep historically resilient culture, sculptured within your genes
the world is your coffee pot-
and opportunity is your boiling water that streams,
over you two ever-growing beautiful Honey Roasted Carmel-Black beans
expanding beyond names-
transcending into true present and everlasting Kings!
because if color is just a thing
then you have every’thing’ to give-
and your rich color, has every’thing’ to bring!
so when the world tells you to dream on-
listen to them my sons, and still dream!