Long Hands Poems
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Death by misadventure.
That is sadly how
most Black lives
wrongfully and unnecessarily
lost at the hands of police officers
are written off these days.
It's become the new normal.
Yet another Black life
has been snuffed out
while in the custody
of White cops.
It all played out
in broad daylight.
People out on the street
watched one
committing murder.
Despite repeated pleas
from onlookers, he remains
heartlessly indifferent,
kneeling
on a black man's neck,
blocking his airway,
putting over 100 lbs of pressure
on his spinal cord!
Who does that?
A man of color is pleading
for his life...and air.
"I can't breathe!" "I can't breathe!"
Hmm, why does that sound familiar?
Meanwhile his back-ups
are standing around
doing nothing,
saying nothing;
obviously complicit
in George Floyd's murder
Their punishment?
Loss of employment.
That's it? Seriously!?
Sorry, Minneapolis
Accountability
doesn't go far enough here!
From the looks of it
you've diagnosed
and dismissed
this senseless loss
of an African-American life
as mere death by misadventure,
which is outrageous.
Those cops should be charged
with murder, Minneapolis!
It was murder.
You don't get away with it
just because
you wear a uniform,
just because
you've got connections,
just because
you're rich and powerful,
just because
you're Caucasian,
just because
you're Black.
Unjustified murder
is unjustified murder.
Their punishment must fit
their heinous crime.
Justice for George Floyd!
Justice for his grieving family!
Do more, Minneapolis!
Date written: 05/28/2020
An Arctic fox casts a shadowed glance
Sideways on the frozen glassy lake, slipping
Pigeon like, gingerly, through fractured light
Images of a swollen moon swallows up the night
Wanderlust for blood will keep him tracking
Hunger pain is cryptic in the savage beast
Frigid ice that slices through the birthright
Wild storms bring shivering numbing cold
Pain is cryptic as a scrimshaw man in ivory
Carving out a living after the sea gives up its own
Whale remains become an etching post for patterns
Frost bit hands work the blade inside the bone
Cracked open long and wide like a spine or smile
Under the treeless forest of stretching flat lands white
Screaming winds will stop at nothing to fill in zeros frozen
A wolf howls but thunder is louder under the pillowed clouds
Muffled hollow, drowned in the secrets found
Whispered outside where survival holds wolf to his fur
Somehow tempest gales grow angrier in the fractured arctic
Unpleasant voices are never heard again in winter sounds
About the hour of midnight around the ice house
Carved out of snow, rounded all about
A humble mother with child hide inside the dome
Covered in leather, camouflaged in white
Eskimos stay safe and warm away from trouble
Bitter cold never grows old on glaciers
Fear not the tumbleweed or desert fire
Tropical seas are only a dream of better weather
Here on the badlands life is measured in ice
Not in pounds of gold or silver snow fox
A sliver of light from a lost sun is peeking
Nights last forever under moon’s tutelage
Under the working blade confused by day
Cutting away summer from winter is a man
Carving out an igloo or whale bone tooth
Etching a future where fingers go numb
Light becomes a figment of the imagination
As a diminishing sun, a distant star fades away
Mother prepares Eskimo blubber pie for supper
The length of the sky
has no set limit,
allow me to take you
to the infinite...
to the endless blue!
Soon after the gleams
if the awaited dawn,
I wake up and find you near me;
my hands touch you softly
with gentleness,
such mornings should be
the happiest ones
for anyone feeling down
who eases his mind
by calling forth pleasing
thoughts and wouldn't lose
touch of seeing
them around...
when he looks
at sadness gloomily!
The length of the sky
has no set limit,
allow me to take you
to the infinite,
to the endless blue!
Soon after the present
tore apart the past, now bygone,
delightful days and warm nights
await us so eager to know
the pleasant satisfaction
and to reconsider the lost happiness!
The length of the sky
inspire us of being free,
if reaching the destination
if that unknown somewhere hidden
from us, that try to measure
the length of the sky!
Let's spend a minute in contemplation,
let's not test his greatness,
because in our observation
we may find ourselves speechless
facing the mysterious sky
that can't keep secrets from us!
The length of the sky
has no set limit,
allow me to take you
to the infinite...
to the endless blue!
the buildings gray stood grand and tall
the proudest prize of man's bright call
none dared to think that one might fall
thus glist'ning in the sun -
the perfect morning sun …
from cherished ground each tower rose
with strength and structure, grandiose
and steady through what nature blows
designer minds had wrought -
their best, or so we thought …
but some small men with missing parts
brought caliphates with fits and starts
their twisted aims from twisted hearts
would make examples, clear -
the things we held, so dear …
there wields no sharper blade or knife
than those which can't thus value life
oh deep that wound of careless strife
cut by an empty soul -
an empty, barren soul …
they flew that morn from foreign lands
these rotten souls, with hateful hands
with peopled planes at their commands
and hate their only cause -
a beast with deadly claws …
one at-a-time straight 'head they flew
'midst cloudless skies and vault of blue
they stabbed their evil arrows through
the hearts of all mankind -
death's rattle left behind …
those towers melted, crumpled ... fell
and brought a grief no one could quell
there on the news, straight out of hell
that horror lay unfurled -
the weeping of a world …
two decades gone, the wounds remain
those birthed from promise gone insane
lost catafalques, like tears through rain
that make no earthly sense -
death smirks as God relents …
please, teach our wee ones how it was
that heav'n did damn such twisted cause
to burn such bright and wondrous Oz
with fire's heinous flash -
turned wonder into ash …
how can it be that monsters, thus
now wear a mask that looks like us?
how can we learn, again, to trust?
still, from those ashes, then -
the grandest dreams of men ...
through hope … will rise again.
~ POETRY AGAINST POVERTY ~
( photographic art borrowed copyright-free by the author from public domain files at FreePik / Picasa )
I have this thing that I’ve discovered
It’s beautiful and soft
It moans and curls around me
It has curves and heavy plump flesh
It is light under my hands
It purrs when I touch it
My fingers running through folds
And strands of hair
What shall I call this thing?
This lovely, fierce
And gorgeous thing?
Those eyes?
Those lips?
Those soft, pink nipples
I love to trace?
How will this name describe
The luscious scent of this thing’s skin?
Or the velvety warmth
Of the wet folds
That pull on me
And draw me up
Leaving me wanting
Every time?
I am called man.
What will I call this thing?
No, this creature?
It is living, breathing
Like I
But it is not like I
It is fire
And water
And blue sky
No, no!
It is rivers
And oceans
And fields of bright
Yellow sunflowers
It is…
Unable to be named…
It is so unlike anything else
It should have a singular name
Only..what?
Oh, I am tired
I am weary
I long to call this thing
Something
Anything
I want to call it by name
But it remains
A mystery
A tomb
Filled with treasure
Never to be opened fully
To the sun
I will borrow its beauty
And share in its warmth
We will be as one
I will be he
And it will be she
We will be forged
Like the strongest of sword
I am the edge
She is the soft, buttery
Hilt
I am man
But she cannot be
I am not her
And she is not me
I must find a name
Something graceful and true
So I can be I
And you can be you
I have it!
I’ve found it!
I looked in the glass
Of a lake filled with fish
And I saw myself
Reflected and changed
And she
Woman
Has changed me.
Maybe he's wondering if I'll
get the message, thinking maybe
I'll pay attention to the signs or even
just do what I used to do and leave
it in his hands, man! sometimes I
hate being who I am, I mean imma
Cancer, emotional needy at times,
loyal, affectionate always counting
my blessings but its hard being me
why did I have to be so different
it's a gift and a curse emotionally
my feelings are hurt... then I think
back like why did me & my 1st
have to break up, then I think
she was only in my life for
that season but then I'm like
whats the reason, why can't I find
true happiness but he's like yea you do
but I guess the way I worship you
just isn't enough, imma jealous God
and you got to give it all, who was
there for you when ya back was against the wall
all I've seen you thru you better give me
the glory and praise I'm the reason you
always wake up seeing a better day
but I'm like to God be the glory Lord
I need your help ever since I left
the military spiritually I ain't been myself
and he says that is you! But I had to
test you to see if you was strong and
you were but you gotta understand
that you was living kinda wreckless,
you know my word why ain't you living
it? Live it. That’s The Message
He could have taken anyone
But no one really knew
Of all the people in this world
God had chosen you
We’ll never hear your voice again
Or see your smiling face
We’ll never see the one we loved
The one we can’t replace
Even though to you
We weren’t related by our birth
It never stopped you being
The greatest Mum and Nan on earth
To make our children happy
You would walk that extra mile
And through their tears and fears
You were the one to make them smile
Always there for each of us
To listen and to guide
Through the years, through ups and downs
Your arms were open wide
Every precious minute
Every hour that you gave
Every smile and laugh
Was a precious memory made
We’ll think of you in silence
We’ll dream of you in sleep
We’ll pray that you are free from pain
And hope you’re now at peace
And when we go to bed each night
We’ll close our eyes and pray
We’ll put our hands together
And this to God we’ll say
“You’ve taken someone special, who
We loved more than you know
She’s brave, but very fragile
So with you she had to go
Please wrap her in your tender arms
And love her like we do
And cherish every moment
The Angel…we gave to you”.
For Pat…with love from Margaret, Patsy, Raina, Georgie and Grandchildren xxxx
And all the people were gathering;
With palms and olive branches in their hands..
There He is
Here He comes..
Riding on a donkey..He comes
He comes
He's here, here He comes
Jesus was in the center of the procession;
And all the people all around him were shouting'
Holy, Glory
Glory, Holy
Hallelujah “Praise God for the Son of David comes, comes;
Glory, Holy
Hallelujah “Praise God for the Son of David comes, comes;
Blessings to the ones who comes in the name of the Lord! Praise God in highest heaven!”
And all the people all around him were shouting'
Holy, Glory
Glory, Holy
Hallelujah “Praise God for the Son of David comes, comes;
Glory, Holy
Through the crowds comes the Lord our God ;
He comes alone for everyone;
Teaches righteousness;
Preaches righteousness;
Come unto Him and confess;
Allow yourself to be blessed;
Come confess;
He's coming, He's in the processional
And all the people all around him were shouting'
Holy, Glory
Glory, Holy
Hallelujah “Praise God for the Son of David comes, comes;
Glory, Holy
Hallelujah “Praise God for the Son of David comes, comes;
Blessings to the ones who comes in the name of the Lord! Praise God in highest heaven!”
Here He comes He comes...
4/14/19
Matthew 21:9
The Horse
Watch his splendor
as he strides elegantly across the prairie.
His beautiful mane blows like a leaf
on a windy November day.
Each step. One after the other, gracefully taken,
as not to lose the rhythm.
The ground beneath him, uneven, uneasy for his
stepping, is taken with great arrogance.
He stops for only a moment,
to nibble on a blade of grass.
He looks around, left to right and behind,
to be sure that no one is watching
his unusual dance on the prairie.
He dances with the beating of time, never ending,
and only he can hear it.
It will never stop, as the hands of time never do.
His tail with its one fleck of black upon it
sways like a child on a swing.
Going faster and swinging higher,
to show the pleasure of the dance.
It sways with the beat of each hoof
trouncing the ground.
Will he stop? Possibly
However, does it matter?
He is free from the world of anger, pain, fear
and reprimand.
Let him go now, he is free like the wind.
No rider shall violate the beauty of his body,
no slashes of anger shall be felt
on his innocent flesh,
and no blood shall be shed to hit the ground,
to make a pool of color on the ground.
Let him run.
He is there no more
to take the beatings of the whip.
Let him go now, he is free like the wind
Form:
Dancing to the rhythm of the music of the heart,
heat rises as our embrace tightens.
Eyes lock telling each other the depth
of passion this moment brings.
Swaying gently to the music only we can hear,
cheeks softly brush starting a blaze.
Lips meet, souls erupt sending shivers
running through one body to the next.
Hands begin to drift, caressing flesh,
as tongues touch for the first moment
feeling the heat of desires rise.
A sweet demand that fills the soul.
Kisses drift down the neck
and whispers of our appetites’ bloom.
Sparks ignite infernos all around us,
the rhythm of the music cannot be denied.
Passions detonate, desires explode;
in fluid motion we become one,
embracing our fullest potential
from vibrations of unimpaired perfection.
The dance of love is a mystic power
allowing passions to finally be released.
A union of two hearts entwined into one soul
for a brief moment that lasts a lifetime.