Color is red, yellow, blue, pink, rainbow
across sky scape
Is black and white, only thing separate
white man from rest race
Where does hatred start against that
is not dominant
Many race scattered islands, Columbus
Idea to new world
Existing world European strip native born
Slavery or man authority to wealth is seek
Where we find ourselves better than that
sleep's gutter
Wealth of a nation broken down poverty levels
Benefit to life is to breath the price you pay
Life to the man, material way high living
Kings of whips my gash deeply bleeds
Even my own to survive old wars ashe skies
Can we not be free without chains rattle steps
Clocks of time ticking civilization existence
White out cover black while it's color brings
darkness depths
Describe as the pain, torcher of famine death
Is a man what they represent to be or lying soul
behind which evil presence lurking
Blood still red, stop heart and we all dead
Forget not colors fought in death as
one's have your back
Good and bad in each race that breathes
Color new world, isn't beauty in eye of beholder
Have a heart, not a mind of misconception
Robet Allan Zimmerman
a native-born Minnesotan
he changed his name to Dylan
and now he is worth millions
I'm a native born morning in Appalachia,
smoky mountains surround
my holy ground.
Life in a single-wide far from the road
never gets old.
nor do two ducks trying to mate
in my leaky rubber pool.
Yesterday's wine bottle is empty again
yet I pour myself out
sip the chill mist
light up, let the hot tobacco
heat the dew on my lips.
The birds are making a fuss.
The Blue heelers are whooping it up,
and the goats are high brawling.
Wife's gone to Cookeville
to work at Walmart,
says she ain't coming back.
Figure I’ll go back to bed,
rest my head till whenever,
then
drink a warm beer for breakfast.
Breath-taking fish follow our footprints
into the booming sea.
A multicolored native child lives there
it walks upon the pushed-up swell,
bell-diving while standing
on the deep dark waves.
You may well dream of this
as the sun plays across your closed eyelids.
You may ask yourself
why the songs of the sea are always sad
even when the sailors fiddle and jig,
and why these images
are so tantalizingly inexplicable
like a saltlick on the moon.
It's the whales you see,
their peace roars, their size expands
even the very smallest places.
It is the alien giant squids of grace,
that does not belong anywhere
yet it floats in a balloon
of eternally penetrating silence.
For all dry-docked and new-laid minds
there's a pulsing birthing canal
still open and waiting,
find it inside a closed seashell of time
within the rippling molecules of tsunamis
where the native-born are spawned.
We are watching the surf roll in and out
and it is certainly not strange
to suffer a moment of absolute exile,
a real 'home sweet home' solitude
and a tidal homelessness.
I've often thought about the glue
that binds fifty states together
What exactly is it substance
How does it adhere and accrue
There are no treaties, no compacts
between and among individual states
What binds them to each other, to produce
not Ohioans and Oregonians, but Americans
I don't think it's the bold brave words
Words like Freedom, Liberty, Democracy
For each and every person's conception
is filtered through his background and perception
Rather, it's our Constitution, the Rule of Law, that binds us all
Native-born, Immigrants, Young and Old, Average, Short and Tall
January 18, 2021
'Unity' Contest
Sponsor: Carolyn Devonshire
I am a Sabra,* *A native-born Israeli
Uzi** at the ready; **Submachine gun (standard army issue)
Confident, brave:
"Yi'hi'ye tov!"*** ***"It'll be fine" - Hebrew for a Sabra's standard,
incongruously optimistic hope for the future.
Sunflower-seed shells
Spat onto battlefields.
Cigarette ash,
Matted air;
Everywhere dust,
Tanks of rust.
I am a Sabra,
Uzi at the ready;
Confident, brave:
"Yi'hi'ye tov!"
Child trapped
In warrior's helmet:
Gesturing heatedly,
Laughing anxiously,
Barbed-wire nerves
Dangling
Arms limp, weary
Draped over coffins.
I am a Sabra,
Uzi at the ready;
Confident, brave:
"Yi'hi'ye tov!"
Life goes on,
A Time-bomb ticking:
Can't cry anymore,
Never could;
Heart racing
To the next Tragedy
Bleeding my Soul.
I am a Sabra,
Uzi at the ready;
Confident, brave:
"Yi'hi'ye tov!"
Comfort zones go into hibernation every winter in Chicago
Only the tough skinned, strong willed, and native-born survive Chicago
Long live the reliable snow movers and the great transportation system
Doing your best to keep blood flowing to the extremities of your body is wisdom
Contrary to many opinions, Chicago is not heartless or cold blooded; just cold
Highways, freeways, and toll roads will always help you reach your goal
I was out one winter near O’Hare International Airport, and my feet nearly froze.
Clearly, I should not have driven a VW Bus that was fun to drive until it caught a Chicago cold.
And it's true that Chicago is a windy city by the lake; it’s also icy cold in Winter
Go to Chicago, where nothing seemed to halt, and where I got so cold that I could barely talk
On short days or long, right or wrong, life goes on; and shoulder to shoulder, people continue to shop on State Street
09052017PS, Acrostic Fall or Winter, Janice Canerdy
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