Short Guevara Poems

You are lovely red
Flame of forest everywhere
Red Che in the air
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March 3, 2016
Syllables: 5-7-5 (www.howmanysyllables.com)
Che is Che Guevara...

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The thorns-in-sides are various
which mar incumbents’ slumber.
Could Belgium bear Lumumba?
Would Britain brook Makarios?

There’s Bolsheviks or Mensheviks,
Parnell or De Valera:
Marat had Robespierre, or
the Romans, Vercingetorix.

There’s Che Guevara, Spartakists, 
the Mau Mau, Mata Hari,
the Contras, Carbonari, 
Hamas, Harmonious Fists.

The song that stops the show?
“It Ain’t Necessarily So”....

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I saw a photograph of a hand
in a museum
thin and emaciated 
It does not matter whose hand was this
a blackman, a white, or a colored
A male or a female......

It was an active hand of a factory worker
might be a hand of undernurished African refugee
or a hand of an AIDS victim....

It was a fisted raised hand 
with a slogan in a procession
for human rights.....

It was the cut hand of doctor Che Guevara
sacrificed for the latin American people.........

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My wonderful family,
God saved in disguise, gifted mother nature,
Michael Jackson altered and awoke my genes,
Rabindranath Tagore provided an insight into survival,
Leonardo Da Vinci killed my inquisitiveness,
Ernesto Che guevara convinced me “I'd better die standing than live on my knees”,
Kurt Cobain showed there was something in the way,
Enigma took me to utopia,
In books I found solace,
In ordinary people I found the meaning of extraordinary,
Eyes reflecting soul of emotions....

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I saw your grandmother
in an old black and white photo
it was in a silver frame,
she was buck naked in a Buick,
I thought: 'Hey you.’

I saw you on a 
`who's your baby-daddy' show
you were in the audience;
you had a pic of the killer
Ernesto (Che) Guevara
on your T,
he looked like me
and I said, ‘Hey you.’

Behind old photographs
all our secret lives
remain radioactive.

At the funeral home
I watch you enter the flames,
saw silver frames melting
and I thought: ‘Hey you.’...

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