~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Then, Janis Joplin’s vinyl tunes sparked a revolution,
Haight-Ashbury, hippie hub, and grass-roots counterculture
buzzed with societal change~
Today, algorithms and funded resistance~
secretly funded, fabricated revolutions
unfolding with merely a thumb scroll.
'Likes' accumulate like manifestos, mostly unread.
Then draft cards burned in courageous hands
sit-ins at Woolworth’s counters,
acts of interracial courage,
swallowed by journalists’ flashbulbs.
Now, hashtags appear like bruises,
justice fading into trending threads.
Then the moon hung like a promise~
we touched it with slide rules and hope.
Now, the sky’s a graveyard of satellites,
and Mars glows redder than the forgotten button.
The times? Still a ‘Changin~
just faster and louder,
yet somehow quieter.
you may read the related memoir vignette at: poetrysoup.com/short_stories/the_september_wind_13646
I have watched with sorrow,
the tragedy of love turned into a hierarchy of colour.
When a black soul marries white,
it is called progress —
but only by those who still see whiteness as divine.
You, black child,
have been taught to hate your reflection,
to see validation only through pale eyes.
When you love yourself, they call it arrogance.
When you seek their love, they call it ambition.
Such is the madness of a divided world.
On the dating screens of modern Rome,
black faces are swiped away like dust,
while white faces glow with borrowed grace.
Even among your own,
the lighter skin calls itself superior —
a mimicry of old masters and new slaves.
This poison was crafted by hands
that divided God’s image by shade and geography.
They crowned ignorance as civilization.
But love was never meant to serve the market of complexion.
Black blood carries the seed of endurance,
the rhythm that sustains the Earth’s breath.
One day, when the African looks in the mirror
and sees not pain but power,
the world will kneel again — not in worship,
but in respect.
Each time Trump says the country’s a wreck,
they go out to the roads to inspect.
If Woody Woodpecker
had had a fact checker,
they’d be feeling his feathers to check.
On The View though, they all get a pass
when Whoopi cushions spew forth their gas.
Trump will jail your miscarriage,
end interracial marriage,
and lock up his opponents en masse.
Meet the happy couple
That's Hilda all in white
Barney's there beside her
Loves her with all his might
They're an interracial couple
No problem nowadays
Frowned on not too long ago
But today it's a-okay
Met at the local horse saloon
Frequented by the equine crowd
She was a pretty show horse
He was boisterous and loud
Pretty soon, she tamed him
Settled him down just fine
Any filly would be proud to say
That stud over there is mine
Soon, a couple of months go by
Hilda's expecting a son
The happy couple race around
High hoof-ing everyone
Had a colt, called him Clyde
So proud of their little guy
Running through peaceful pastures
Then off to the clouds they fly
You can see this happy couple at night
When you view the evening sky
The three stars south of Orion
Are Barney, Hilda and Clyde
Loving Day
When Richard and Mildred fell in love,
their fate was decided by a judge.
For he was white and she was black,
their marriage broke Virginia's Integrity Act.
Forced to move to Washington DC,
they opposed the ruling in 1963.
In 1967, a supreme court ruled that Richard and Mildred Loving could live together,
as an interracial married couple in their own state of Virginia,
and declared that the law prohibiting this was unconstitutional.
June 12 is National 'Loving Day', when many Americans continue to celebrate the freedom to marry a person of another race.
Festivals, barbecues, parties are held,
to show that love knows no bound.
The latest landmark law was signed
Which guarantees the rights
Of everyone to marry, after
Years of bitter fights.
So same-sex couples needn’t fear
Their love will be denied
And interracial partners
Can rejoice as knots are tied.
To those who grumble, I can’t see
Why anybody’s choice
In marriage should be challenged
By an unrelated voice.
Let all who make commitments
To each other set their course
For everlasting happiness
(Or possibly divorce).
A power struggle of the races
doesn't' need to be
as skin pigmentation
is what we simply see.
Though deep within each soul
is more than red, yellow, white or brown
there lives the spark of kindness
and generosity to be found.
An interracial society
brings more that variety
It blends and enriches cultures
and inspires the world to see...
That prejudice and racism
never should exist
just love through integration
where happiness shall persist.
The absence of copula,
black and white to and fro,
Pidgins broke the rules.
Yu spik a long tang,
ol rul mas stop, Braddah.
Into colonial subjugation,
Pidgin has no future, stalemate.
Falls under freedom of slavery,
let's have an interracial,
the bukkake of licentia poetica.
White donkey had much love and heartfelt affection to give
His most special intergalactic friend was a cat named Liv.
Without any problem, Whitey and Liv agreed on everything,
Best of all, they discovered they both could sing.
Whitey would bray, and Liv would meow in the night.
They would cuddle up together, a glorious interracial sight.
They were the best of friends for twenty years or more.
Thirty even maybe, and this is truly no folklore.
There they go, Farmer Henry said to Louella, his corpulent wife.
I wish the other animals would show such a lack of strife.
Let’s have them give seminars to the others, out in the barn.
So Liv and Whitey did, and it worked like a charm.
The chickens and sheep began to lay with each other.
The puppy took a cow to be his adoptive mother.
The cow cuddled up with the rooster so thick.
The seminar by the two had truly done the trick!
Meet the happy couple
That's Hilda all in white
Barney's there beside her
Loves her with all his might
They're an interracial couple
No problem nowadays
Frowned on not too long ago
But today it's a-okay
Met at the local horse saloon
Frequented by the equine crowd
She was a pretty show horse
He was boisterous and loud
Pretty soon, she tamed him
Settled him down just fine
Any filly would be proud to say
That stud over there is mine
Soon, a couple of months go by
Hilda's expecting a son
The happy couple race around
High hoof-ing everyone
Had a colt, called him Clyde
So proud of their little guy
Running through peaceful pastures
Then off to the clouds they fly
You can see this happy couple at night
When you view the evening sky
The three stars south of Orion
Are Barney, Hilda and Clyde
~ Isn't There a Happy Holiday? ~
Labor Day was born in strife
Memorial Day means widowed wife
July Four ended a bloody revolution
MLK's death sparked violent retribution
I'd vote for Thanksgiving
But given the country's current mood
It seems that giving thanks
For interracial cooperation
Is not viewed as something good
Meet the happy couple
That's Hilda all in white
Barney's there beside her
Loves her with all his might
They're an interracial couple
No problem nowadays
Frowned on not too long ago
But today it's a-okay
Met at the local horse saloon
Frequented by the equine crowd
She was a pretty show horse
He was boisterous and loud
Pretty soon, she tamed him
Settled him down just fine
Any filly would be proud to say
That stud over there is mine
Soon, a couple of months go by
Hilda's expecting a son
The happy couple race around
High hoof-ing everyone
Had a colt, called him Clyde
So proud of their little guy
Running through peaceful pastures
Then off to the clouds, they fly
You can see this happy trio at night
When you view the evening sky
The three stars south of Orion
Are Barney, Hilda and Clyde
In The House Of Dengbej
Three sisters sit
Each in crimson velvet
And veiled hair.
Relate tales
Of interracial love.
Of Armenian Boys and Kurdish Gals.
This is a town of
Cobbled streets and redbrick houses of the ancient Lore.
Diyarbakir, Sur.
Fidus Achates: an Armenian gal and a Kurdish girl
Are no more. The ghosts of the Armenians; translucent
Still linger on the mud walls.
Poplar trees cast melancholy shadows
Over the last remaining residents
Mostly Kurdish
Soon to join the ghosts of the Armenians?
Still the guerrilla resistance continues.
Behind the soiled curtains of white lace.
Death is a banality. Blood spills on baked soil
Daily.
Freedom is a distant land to be conquered.
Wine making and relating tales of ancient lores
And the allure. Lured the youth to Sur.
The House of Dengbej in Sur.
Finest stories are spun like sugar
And spread from tongue to tongue.
* Sur was once a very cosmopolitan town with a harmonious community. It is now a town of bitter conflict between the Turks and Kurdish.
"17TH STREET"
the woman in the glasses
the interracial couple
the fat broad with the dog
the family who ignored the cops
the Jewish church
who hates sharing it's parking
the empty car port
the trash can
with spray painted letters
the homeless
the mattress that
never made it to the dump and the
noiseless
and the actress who acts
who has me dying of laughter
By: Chicano Eddie
8-09-2016
I began caressing her soft, sweet, chocolate skin.
"You're like a brother to me," she said,
"This has got to stop happening."
"Are you saying," I asked,
"that I make love to you like a black man?"
"Not that kind of brother," she said, "you freaking moron."
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