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What if, have you ever wondered, the rain, that takes much attention, as it falls: drop;drop; drop, one drop by one drop, gathers into a torrent, 'tis a larger picture, take your attention, elsewhere up in the skies, down to the wet ground, away from the rain, to a larger wider cosmos, the skies rumble, the clouds nestle, the bolts of lightning, while they are heavy with water, letting go, thunder; lightning; deluge, so you see, 'tis not about the rain alone, but turn your attention, to the bigger picture, smaller surprises, are borne out, of bigger ones.

I sank my teeth, Into a delicious slice of cake, It melted more than broke, Down in my mouth. The dough and water, Sugar and butter, Form from fire, And a cake is made. To stretch one's minds, To reach for the heights, To bend and dig deeper, Then discover what is hidden. Put all pieces together, Collect and gather, Make new parts, To be whole again.

It is a prayer, May 25 heal, George Floyd you are on my mind, I see you as a martyr, In you a Black collective is at the crossroads, Asia, Europe and Africa meet around you, A revolution rose from your prone body, No more lies about who suffers, Your life clarified the expectation, To which a Black life, Was held by many, Your death gauged our measure of sanctity to life, I cried, I was sorrowful, No more again, Shall we treat, Any human with indignity. May 25 heal all of us, We are equally guilty, But collectively,  We are healers, to each other.

 Dark puffed swirls of clouds, gathered as if to tell, of a glorious future, these are shoots on the lips and tongues, of the cotton plantation slaves, the plantationers, you may think of an engine, and you will be forgiven, for your idea of a motor, I speak of another engine, bent and painstakingly sore, picking and cleaning cotton, you may think of autonomous machines, and you will be forgiven, for your idea of automated robots, I speak of a primo automaton, for the plantations had them first, picking and cleaning cotton, a self-driving and self-repairing engine, a self-guiding beast of burden, lagging heavy cotton-filled baskets, if the pangs of child-birth, sent pin-pricks of painful reminders, this bent expectant mother, most likely nauseated but energetic, with the heartburn searing the chest, waves of Braxton Hicks contractions, a shriek of pain, birth rivulets flow, knees bended and the woman lies prostate, on firm solid terra, this is Mother Nature's Temple, The burning bu

Daunte Wright, perhaps the previous night, must have written a text message, filled with youthful hope and excitement, of looking forward, to a time when COVID-19 is gone, to a day enjoying a ride, to a future when the DMV will open, In a car whose tags had expired, this fond son met his death, this car at one time, could have been,  a kitchen table pep-talk subject, a mother giving the talk, policing; use of brutal force and race, Kimberley Potter, another mother, a well trained Police officer, could not tell which side, the gun or taser was pouched, nor tell the feel of the gun grip,  police-work due diligence aside, after all this is a Black driver, half the work is done by gunning, then contemplate or ask questions later, and so in that tradition. a 20 year old Black male is gunned down, by a 26 year veteran of the Police, dedicated and loyal to the force, a member of an honor guard, the quintessential law enforcer, 'accidentally discharged a fire-arm,' and Daunte Wright wa

A Slave of Love Love overwhelms, presses you down, first is the sensation,  of a heart sinking then rising up or moving sideways, it is not a material gift, nor inane whispers, that stir the tempests, out of which warmth, escapes to bathe, the body with dizziness, and a cold elixir, to dole out sobriety

  Mandela’s Tie-and-Dye Fabric   ‘Your Worship I hold you in high esteem,’ Mandela addressed the White Court, A stern Drakensberg, Oversees vast vista’d plains, Of shrubs; gorges; rivers; flora and fauna, A beautiful homeland, To the tongue clickers, Gravity defying leapers, Fleet of feeters, Boers and Anglo settlers, All and others, It was such a time, To expose the violence, That apartheid unleashes, To those labelled non-white or Africans, Violence begets violence, A churning Charybdis, Devouring pleas for clemency, Drowning reason and decency, Tentacles of diabolical hubris, Bind both African and White, In a tumbling tackle, Of justice; love; wrath; hate; war; plunder, With no side victorious, Until at Ithaca, All attacking and war-weary sides, With bloodied swords and smoking guns, Which they would have used, To wipe down each other, Letting loose copious blood, Flowing over plains, Forming bloated and grotesque naumachiae Cringing on banks left soggy, With ripped arms and legs, S

  White Court Black Body   The black body is weary and hungry, Not because there is no bread and cake, Not because the easy choice is drug and diet, Not because the dilapidated tenement is also redlined, Not because the need is to change the skin shade, Not because the face is angry and distressed, Not because the belly grumbles, Not because the limbs are chained, Not because the hair is shaggy, Not because the neck is vulnerable Somebody is someone, Someone is a human, The court compiled laws on the book, It is possible to turn despair into abundance, It is possible to turn misery into mercy, It is possible to make choices universally available, It is possible to turn fences into safer spaces, The body is part of a diverse humanity, A truth that is brown, black and white, The court is part of affirmation, Of the common and shared liberties, So that all fully experience life, Revise the legacy that distanced opportunities, Entrench resp

Blue Uniform Black Skin   The shoulder chip, For visibility of dignity, The belt around the hip, A commitment to serve, The baton and boot, A show of firm, Uncompromising discipline, The complete blue uniform, An aspiration to protect, The black skin, A presence of dignity, The black hands, A commitment to productivity, The black voice and vote, A promise of liberty, The black citizenship, An aspiration to upward mobility, The blue uniform and black skin, Complement each other, For in working together They bring about upliftment.

  My Lord   To whom time bows, You who makes the valleys brim up, With the grass and ivy, The stretch of time, From sun up and to sun down, Is a breath, Or rolls out the red carpet of eternity, I sing of your glory, Filling my chest with sweet melodies, Bringing hope and peace, My heart beats like the drums, In an ensemble making joyous noise, My mouth is shouting praises, My feet carry me swiftly, To the house of my Lord.

 Deep Within and About   The Jordan river flows, In and about me, My baptismal crucible, Like my Lord was, The Jordan river flows, In and about me, Like all who drink from it, The Jordan river flows, In and about me, A wonder too wonderful, Like all humanity can be, The Jordan river flows, In and about me, From above and below, Like my holy shroud.

  From Treat to Threat   A destiny that history complicates, Rooted in doubt and prejudice, Europa a fair one, Nubia a grand backdrop, The golden sands of the desert, The marble glaciers of the poles, The verdant bloom of the savannah, The melodies of the birds, The blue waves that ride over waters, A belongingness, Where women and men, Are the proud players, In organic renewal And not abuse, That is the lifetime call, Unless horrors are owned, All those silences and numbness, Like drying hanging linen, A reckoning whose utterances, Are mostly traded with foam, Sometimes spittle around the mouth, About a people whose presence, Is a treat , or threat, Pain lies hidden in the shadows, There is a writer and composer, Who exploits and make a profit, Out of conflagration and strife, The peacemaker and a charismatic, Ridiculed and laughed at, Grace and diligence thereof, Choristers and protesters, Singing “we shall overcome,” Are heard and seen, On streets and squares, Only to be bludgeoned

  Banded and Bonded   A supportive husband, And a loving wife, Are inseparable, A kind heart, And a flaming spirit, Channel charity, The reliability of sunrise, The dependability of sunset, Make time companionable, Responsibly search yourself, A patient reflection, Makes you a better person, Sanctity and purpose, Dignity and autonomy Are banded and bonded.

  My Lord Sits by Me   My Lord deliver me, My Lord deliver me, My Lord deliver me, My Lord deliver me, I am not a sinner no more, I am not a sinner no more, I am not a sinner no more, Coz my Lord deliver me, Walk down to Jordan river, Walk down to Jordan river, Walk down to Jordan river, By the banks you find my Lord, My Lord cleanses me, My Lord welcomes me, My Lord sits by me, I am a guest in the mansion of the Lord.

  Different Sameness   The bird said to the goat, I fly but I don’t bleat, The goat said to the bird, I don’t fly but I am fleet of feet, When you are up in the air, The goat asked the bird; What holds your fancy? The bird asked the goat; When you are prancing about, What makes you do that? I long to see the heights of the universe, What makes you do that? Replied the bird, I long to know the lengths of the world, Replied the goat, Seriously? Asked the bird, Seriously! Replied the goat, So; we fancy the same thing.

  Storms   The storms ferociously toss us around, But in this screaming tempest we found, The east; west; north; and south, It was possible to find direction, We found a quiet corner, We hid; died; prayed; cried; and feared, But in the pain of the moment, We discovered possibilities, We came to terms with our failures, The storms bring with them, Rains to nourish the soils, Into which viable seeds, Sprout, shoot and grow.

  They Moved Spirits to Tears    A White master confiscated everything; anything, Took away their skin, Flogged; burnt; and lynched them, Took away the drum, So that they don’t rhyme, Took away the book, So that they don’t read, Took away the spices, So that they had no condiments, Took away the tenderloin, So that they fed on braised offal and smoked hooves, Took away the shoes, So that they walked bear-foot, But they improvised, For they had their hearts, The many roomed mansions, They had their hands, They could clap, They had their mouths They could plead their cases, They had their minds, They could create melodies, They turned nothingness, To somethingness, With their music, With their dancing, They moved the spirits to tears, They walked all over the heavens.

  But on Judgment Day   That we shall never be scared of dying, Or tired of living, That we may dance; dine; and wine, That we may feel our pockets with dime, But on judgement day, Something else will matter, That our bent backs, Which sweat in the mine and field, That our hands, Lifting bales and ware, That our feet, Bearing the weight and strain, That on judgement day all will matter, That we shall look up, To a Lord not as beasts, That our knees will be bended, As our eyes behold a magnificent bounty, That our frenzied hearts, Will beat with joy, That there will be a celebratory ensemble, Of Brown; White; and Black, That on judgement day everything will matter, That an upright back is criminal, That raised eyes are insurbordinate, That folded limbs are ungrateful, That as long as it is Black, It is insufferable, But on judgement day, We found our liberties.

A Grain   There are two worlds, One is contained in a grain, The other in the universe’s gyre, The winds may toss you about, The waves may drown you in sorrows, But it takes the small things, A grain of hope, The rising tide, To bring joy, To lift up spirits Boats to pick you up to safety, There are two worlds, One is contained in a grain, The other in the universe’s gyre, The body may feel sore, The music may not rhyme, But it takes the small things, A loving arm, A melody and tune, To lift up spirits, A song with a note that fits, There are two worlds, One is contained in a grain, The other is in the universe’s gyre, The burden may seem unbearable, The journey may be insurmountable, But it takes the small things, A shoulder to bear the weight, A glimmer of hope, One foot before the other, There are two worlds, One is contained in a grain, The other in the universe’s gyre, The face may be pitiless and blank, Cries m

  Things meant to go,  go away, The things meant to come, arrive, You may talk loudly, like the thunder ⛈️⚡, in the clouds, Or not at all, like the steady Atlas 🏔️, You may whisper, like the dawn wind 🌬️, Or roll on your back, like the waves of a raging ocean, It is all there, willed, impassioned, timed, Where there is a will,  there is a way. Where there is passion, there is creativity 🍓. Where there is timing, there is maturity. Nurture the will,  uplift passion appreciate patience. They are the nectar, in a dandelion flower 🌻