This Quiet Passion

It is a love, a desire, a response to silence,

for so many occasions,

while the skies do glance the usual,

always, the emotions might trigger,

might respond,

could offer a storm of wrath,

or perhaps,

when least we anticipate,

a light rain, to cleanse our soul,

allow our lives to breathe,

beyond the casual haze

of a summer day.

 

I stood in front of my emotions today,

asked a question,

perhaps stoic in my way,

I wondered just how far

we might have to travel

in order,

to participate in the aftermath

of chaos,

for it screams that phenomena

stayed with my being,

for as many days as the summer

holds true to an autumn.

 

While now I rest my weary soul,

the fortune of time offers sweet Grace,

when age becomes validation,

and hearts do forever listen.

I have traveled far and wide,

and yet there is a stillness,

may overcome me in evening’s tide,

as will the serendipity of passion,

an surreal reality as I stand here before you,

wanting only solace from a sweet panic.

 

In life, we do lead with thoughtful enterprise,

a notion, an ideal,

oft times an inspiration,

to market goodness,

to experience that

goodness,

to know such character

is infamy

when stood alongside

true character.

When passion speaks its favor,

our world, a planet, a state, a society,

a mosaic,

we are all

so much – so little – so together,

 

We can be universal,

we may align, smile, gesture, accord

each other …

we can be one.

Wanting Discovery

I am that person you see every day,

in a coffee shop – caprice with friends,

at the prom, nervous,

in every crowd shot of each rite of passage,

walking to school,

waiting nearby,

the one that popped out of a crowd with a smile,

genuine and as easily drawn to cry as allow laughter.

 

I am that young man, woman, person, entity, enigma, peer,

sad face, happy expression,

tumultuous personality drawn to the drama,

in knowing I am always questioning who I might be,

I am that one counting upon the moment,

when my world crashes,

crumbles, unravels, unwinds the very sustenance of sanity,

who knows you will be there to catch me,

comfort me, offer solace, provide direction, allow failure

to return to a successful rendezvous

with reality.

 

Because I know you care.

 

I am the child,

now the young adult filled with a vigor for pronouncement,

yes, it is my time, to cock, to strut the walk, to corral the essence of time,

with a wish to be recognized,

to be now, finally, in this moment, after years of fear and trepidation,

to be understood.

 

I am eighteen, seventeen, nineteen years old,

I am that question,

son, daughter, neighbor, friend,

Somali, Latina, American unrecognized, white kid down the block,

African-American, in all beauty, all encompassing,

I am that Asian, Russian, Icelandic, Austrian child,

I am that person – please, hold me, and guide me,

let me thrive.

 

I am that teenager, that might not yet realize,

howsoever society defines,

I am that Graduate.

Race Dialogue Matters

Hear that,

disparaging commentary,

confront it today,

walk away tomorrow,

tonight,

every day we hear something,

close eyes, and imagine a beautiful sunrise,

anything to move me,

my mind, my attitude, my conscience,

elsewhere.

If we don’t talk about it, maybe it doesn’t matter

as much,

well, as much as,

in a manner of speaking, have you asked the question,

to those that do care about each other’s

well-being, freedom, respect,

a desire to feel intrigue about who I am,

in the light of others, them.

What matters is acceptance,

not just of you and me,

understanding the conversation is important,

helps, makes sense, builds bridges,

builds a passionate embrace

who we are,

why we need to have this

understanding,

in the light of not getting it,

we didn’t want to,

talk about it,

if we do, then it becomes an issue.

What a crock of shit.

when we choose to pretend it needs no discussion,

we then,

lose control of

the possibility

freedom to engage,

no sabotage,

instead scrutiny,

the sort the matters,

the kind creates a collective

eloquence, oh, I mean,

love.

A White Man’s Struggle

I spoke of this in my classroom today,

it didn’t make sense,

I still haven’t figured out a way,

to not seem utterly dense.

I’m a White man trying to be understanding,

yet every time I try

I end up again, landing

square upon my own ignorance and cry.

I’m a White man rocked with privilege,

and I still manage to find a way

to put myself out on a ledge,

bringing attention to my own self-righteous dismay.

It’s Black History Month,

a friend of mine posted this recently

suggested it is the shortest month

of the year, well he said it decently.

I have felt a lot of pause, trying to find the right word,

not to sound correct, but to clearly feel ok.

Racism is Simply Ugly

John Pisone video and Racism  (click to watch video)

I think if you look at the expression of sheer wonder in the woman’s face wearing the green hood, this is a strong indication that we are clueless of the people we stand next to in unity for similar causes. When I hear a person say racism doesn’t exist in our society – the first person that comes to mind for me, is me. I wonder about my actions, my attitude, my point of view, and whether anything there lends to an attitude or mindset that would favor a racist frame of mind. I‘m human, I make mistakes, I try to correct them and move forward.

The part of this video that disturbs more than anything is else is that this guy, is correct, in his assessment of ‘the underbelly’ of our society, but he is speaking incorrectly of the group that creates the most turmoil or anxiety as we go forward with a braggadocio of a frontrunner for political office who is actively in every word, every comment, every television byte, suggesting it is ok to be an a**hole towards others in our society.

This video should be shared. Who cares that this moron lost his job, the bigger issue is the people that are listening to him. Please share and open everyone’s eyes that you believe cares about a more respectable society in our lives.

It’s the beginning of a new year – why not start now.

Why Love Can Speak

We define ourselves by needs

by the operative term of finding freedom,

we might be the one that bleeds

if while in action we lose our kingdom

to the crusader, the challenger, the chilling

antagonist.

We question the rights and our own

wrongs when trying to combine value

upon a selfish agonizing scream unknown

while the world derides the me in you.

Meanwhile the innocent blood is our bleeding

martyr.

While a man determines their right,

question the many that came so long before

just living this way seems today to be a rite

of passage, a sacrifice long ago thought folklore.

Shatter the window to freedom becomes a shouting

anarchist.

We begin our lives in the comfort of loving arms

unbeknownst to our innocence, the living pain

to be endured in the years ahead in subtle charms

meant only to help create a divide without gain.

Everywhere else evocative notions shriek from willing

candidate.

Life is a circle, a flowing line, an endless surface

In terms of morality we might a peace, promise

My World A Ruthless Shame

I grew up with certain freedoms,

Though I was never really told,

I only understood a world of fiefdoms

From books I read. I wasn’t bold.

~

My dreams were made with managed

Challenge, the bounty being compassion

Beyond a society of greed is the adage

Spoke a loud in a personal fashion.

~

The limits began when in later life

What we discovered together in name

Became the seedling of confusion’s strife

The sort leaves my eyes seeing shame.

~

We are a world driven by our insanity

If we believe this our lovely reality.

What Is Love?

Do you know,

I’m asking,

I need your help.

How rare to have a moment

to pause

to think

maybe imagine there are answers

outside of your comfort zone

outside of your comfort zone

outside of your usual way of thinking.

Instead of ‘you’ 

let’s talk about me,

walk inside my world

and tell me what can be seen.

Is there love?

How can we tell what love really is

when our world cries out in fear

with every opportunity 

to share ideals, to share, to love.

Love,

to me becomes quiet,

soft, a caress, a knowing smile,

an ability to allow me,

to rest, to feel assured, to know I am …

ok.

Yet, in a world

where we are constantly

always, constantly,

you know,

just kind of so constantly

reminded

we don’t belong,

In a world where hate

is honored before we can …

love!

Ferguson, USA

ferguson1

I was walking alone down a city street the other day,

I didn’t have to dodge rubber bullets along the way.

 

One afternoon while the sun shone bright across the sky,

Bicycles and para-sails wafted freely without asking why.

 

When I wake up in the morning I will drive on a road,

Without ever-wondering why I’m stopped and not told.

 

I’ve heard there is a cause to fight for the loss of a young man,

But tonight, I’m afraid we only seem to care about ‘the man.’

 

If you stop to tell me that he was shot to death in cold blood,

I’ll look you in the eye and remind you I no longer care to flood

 

My mind with realistic reasons to have a violent time at night.

I just want to use his death to further my desire to give slight

 

To what it is our authority is trying so hard to ascertain.

That’s not to say a skeptical eye toward you I will maintain,

 

You the man, the one that stands in the way of my free walk home,

You the man, the one when race is spoken, you ring in our tome.

Trayvon Martin

A boy died. A segment of our society painted him to be a golden boy wearing a hood. We don’t know. I certainly don’t know. From what I first read, it seemed that George Zimmerman was his own wannabe crusader that wanted to save the world from society’s ‘cancers.’ In this scenario, it played out to be a young unarmed man. Zimmerman shouldn’t have pursued; the nation has read the transcript. The kid may have felt stalked, and took it upon himself to protect himself, whether that was right or wrong.

Having a gun changes the game, no matter the color of your skin. Having a certain color of skin changes the game no matter the incident. We are a judgmental society. We also, at times, appear to have a flawed justice system – that reality has played itself many times before last night’s verdict and will continue to do so in the future.

So, now as we look to today’s blue sky, and return to our local routines, and justify our existence and opinion – what change lies ahead, and how can we be a part of that raised consciousness without using negative energy to steer our direction? We must seriously look tragedy in the eye and negotiate a forever driven desire to be that change, to facilitate raising our awareness rather than slamming the door shut, again.