I Am Also Yours…He Said Of Her
(Apropos A Beloved Child)
Not until you have been
‘bused and scorned like me,
can you ever know how it is to be
treated like a child conceived in mortal sin
locked in the closet; denied to live like the free.
Oh, what great lies were created and told;
what blatant fallacies were allowed to persevere?
All because the meek were afraid to break the mold;
preferring rather, to serve the vanity of society’s fierce fear—
Yes I too, am a blessed child of your God;
identified in nature as a creature of His will.
A fish is a fish, be it a trout, guppy or cod;
if the Maker was a She, wouldn’t you love Him still?
Or would you succumb to the bigotry of man’s begotten will?
She abandoned her home and friends, in fear
of brutal gangs pushing drugs and firearms.
And walked for months to reach the US border;
where ICE agents yanked her child from her arms.
No amount of begging could deter them,
and she's handcuffed, her child taken away.
Asylum seekers, denied a trial
where a judge decides if they get to stay.
They refused to say where they took her boy,
citing that all illegals get bused back.
And it was up to her to locate him;
proclaiming it wasn't their job to keep track.
Please, God, I beg You, help her find her boy:
he is more than a political ploy.
Times Square was once a sleazy place;
You wouldn’t go alone there.
When darkness fell, you held on or
You’d lose all that you owned there.
Today, though, it’s like Disney World,
With tourists, loud and surging.
There’s not an inch of space unfilled
Since everyone’s converging:
The families from Idaho,
The hawkers giving passes,
The Elmos and the messengers,
The bused-in high school classes…
The lunch-break workers, homeless dudes,
The theater geeks and shoppers,
The food carts, cabbies and the cops
And all the teenyboppers.
I love New York; don’t get me wrong
But oftentimes I wonder
If gentrifying Broadway
Might have been a whopping blunder.
I Am Also Yours…He Said Of Her
(Apropos A Beloved Child)
Not until you have been
‘Bused and scorned like me,
Can you ever know how it is to be?
Treated like a child conceived in mortal sin;
Locked in the closet—denied to live like the free.
Oh what great lies were created and told;
What blatant fallacies were allowed to persevere?
All because the meek were afraid to break the mold;
Preferring rather, to serve the vanity of society’s fierce fear—
Yes I too, am a blessed child of your God;
Identified in nature as a creature of His will;
A fish is a fish, be it a trout, guppy or cod;
If the Maker was a She, wouldn’t you love Him still?
Or would you succumb to the bigotry of man’s begotten will?
Fir trees droop and brightly glisten,
street lamps cast their glow, and listen!
sounds of singing drifting lightly
o'er the air, as children sprightly
fashion snowmen, fat and jolly,
wrapped in scarves and sprigs of holly;
horse-drawn coaches softly clip-clop
down the road and past the grog shop,
revelers in gay abandon,
merry-making to distraction!
Wind-bused faces pressed to windows,
Christmas gifts in festive red bows,
all regale this night of wonder,
misery is cast asunder!
My remaining days,
Merely a shadow of those expended.
It’s as if I’ve floated through time,
Aping smoke, born of a match head,
Drifting Indiscriminately,
Chasing dreams, oft dwarfed by reality,
Evaporating days,
Auto-bused me to the stop at which I stand;
I realize now, that life was truly a vapor,
And beyond life, a timeless existence
With God.
Beaten and Bused,
Seem Like A Holocaust.
But I Rather Be Free,
Then In The System And Lost.
You Talking About Struggle,
Look At Me.
I Too Been Through It,
And Im In Need.
You Cry Those Cries,
And Say What You Say.
There's Only One Path,
That'll Lead The Right Way.
Take My Advice,
It's What You Should Know.
Once You Find The Truth,
Your Heart Will Glow.
See Ain't Nothing Wrong,
With Being BLESSED.
But You Cant Be Blessed,
If You Full of STRESS.
Im Tired of Being Sad,
Tired of Crying.
For All These People,
That Careless About Dying.
This World Is Not Loved,
It's Full of Hatred.
Keep Playing And You'll Be Like,
All Those From The Patriot.
I Am Confident,
And So Should Too.
If No One Cares,
Just Remembered Who Died For You.
Everything That Goes On,
Was Meant For A Reason.
But This Time Is My Time,
Your Due In The Next Season.
So If Anyone's Against You,
Remind Yourself Whose On Your Side.
Not The World, Your Love, Not Even Me,
Just Him Up HIGH.
-People vs People vs The World
Sticks and stones won't break my poems
and terms will never use us,
the artist's hope goes it alone,
while others just diffuse us!
Hip and hop won't take my crop
and placard's mentors lose us,
my only truth is still unknown ~
until my lines . . . . transfuse us!
Country Cafeteria
in Shelby County,
Illinois, 1989
The two weeks
I spent in that small town
on assignment, I saw no blacks
except for two older women
regal in every way,
hair coifed in silver gray,
working in the Country Cafeteria.
They walked like pastors’ wives
as they bused their 20 tables.
White badges on their uniforms
announced in red their names,
their years of service.
They never said a word,
not even to each other.
They just took the cups and plates away
and wiped oil tablecloths pristine.
I took three meals a day in silence there,
the only place in town to eat.
I was the stranger in a suit and tie,
a city weed among stout farmers in old coveralls
who came to town each day to note
“no rain yet” and “the corn is dyin’.”
Before each meal instead of saying Grace,
I wanted to stand and ask these ladies
as they bowed before the clutter on their tables:
If you have worked here all these years,
and lived in this town also,
where in the Name of God,
other than at home or church,
are you free to talk or laugh or sing
or clap your hands in emancipation?
Donal Mahoney
Casualties of an enforced lifestyle shiver in the breeze
Along the rugged roads of old dust and ditches that divide
Rest a group of modest enclosures they call home
Built out of left over wood and delivery slates in 90 degrees
They seem content with their simplistic lifestyles and unsightly miles
Water is delivered in worn out trucks and stored in their homes in discarded tanks
There is no sewer system, very few working water systems are scattered
Yet, if you were to pass through for a visit, the women would be cooking with smiles
During the day, men are bused to work in factories and earn fifty dollars a week
Few people have the resources to receive a doctor’s visit and medications
“Anencephaly” a brain birth defect that their infants have, now significantly rise
When it rains there the roads become virtually impassable and unusably bleak
They are a hard working people with values and a drive to nurture their youth
Bathing their children in the same lavadora they wash their dishes in
Tijuana is among one of the poorest places in the world
With these living conditions, it’s hard to turn your back from the truth