We Live Til We Die

You can’t see me because you’re color blind, and you can’t know me for the ghosts in your mind. all I must do in this life is stay black and die; and what you’ll do for me is oppress and deny.
if I reach out will you snatch back and take me from myself, my love and the heart you’ve attacked?
if I say I love you can i trust you not to speak hate? and if I say I love this land does that not deny your police state?
we live together and far apart and these microaggressions tear into my heart. your empire is death; you injure through lies.

we go down together or live til we die

A Heart, Beat

If it hurts, it must be love
she thought
So the tears were bittersweet
And if there’s pain
then the love is truer still
because intensity brings climax
and the sharp edges cut deep
like the words that he hurt her with
and the feeling of loving, after the fights and bruises
ache inside
heartrending and its pace
resounded as proof of romance with every beat

brown-blues-one-eyed-tulips-by-d-lammie-hanson
Brown Blues One Eyed Tulip by D. Lannie Hanson

A mirror’s reflection can never tell you who you are. It’s in the dark and deep silence that the voices of identity whisper their truths. Fear of the dark  is more a fear of your true self  which often resists the noise and the clamor of daylight. The journey between light and and dark takes you into the Self and away from the garish and false imagery that fools us about who we are, who we want to be. Darkness has its own blessings for those with the courage to brazen out the fear. Ultimately you bring gifts of awakening into the light.

Dinosaur Man

the look that you gave me whispered your thoughts
there was desire and wanting but shame and darkness and loss
and next thing i know i felt the need to peel my skin off
you make me feel dirty when you look at me that way
as if brown of the skin is the same as some shit stain
i’m ugly
(you say)
i’m fat
(you say)
i’m alone
(how the hell do you know?)
but who would want would want a nigger with black nappy curls??
those are the things you conveyed in that look and
i will not own your diseased mind
nor your cruelty
nor allow you to pierce me with the thorns in
deathly savage looks

but this much i’m certain that your kind is dying
the dinosaurs are your people
who are fearful of time and future and change

Dinosaur Man you and your people are slipping away
and none will remain to mourn you or your devilish hate
so cross the bridge to oblivion
take stairs down to the abyss of fate
and stay there with those like you
there is nothing for you in this World
no room for what you name “vigilance”
and we who despise you name you “grievous mistake”

Writing poetry is sometimes an exercise in allowing your brain and emotions to bleed freely while you observe the red pools at your feet.

Don’t stop the blood flow. Don’t freak out if you become mesmerized by the process.

Gratitude Over Worry

It’s really a great joy when you can look up from your life, in the midst of work or family or any mundane daily chore and realize that so many of the things you hoped for are actually apart of your life. Even though most days it seems like you don’t know what the hell is going on. Or aren’t sure how you’re going to make it. But you look around and see creativity. Friends whose dynamic energy causes yours to soar. Beloved family. And a home that makes you feel good and protected. That is the proof of karmic flow and God realized prayers. And you can say Thank You. And sleep well at night.

It’s really a great joy when you can look up from your life, in the midst of work or family or any mundane daily chore and realize that so many of the things you hoped for are actually apart of your life. Even though most days it seems like you don’t know what the hell is going on. Or aren’t sure how you’re going to make it. But you look around and see creativity. Friends whose dynamic energy causes yours to soar. Beloved family. And a home that makes you feel good and protected. That is the proof of karmic flow and God realized prayers. And you can say Thank You. And sleep well at night.

Shots Fired: Eros Strikes Back

Artwork by Clarina Gonzalez

Floundering & flailing
beneath so many failings
How could I have been so blind?
If Justice be sightless
and Eros be an archer
betwixt them
I am
misled
injured
&

 dying

*NOTE: Super technically speaking Cupid is the god who shoots arrows with his tiny bow. Eros is also a god of love but so far as I remember he was not packing.

Songs to Sing of the Night and the Rain

barely there
wispy murmurs upon the air
soul sounds softly cooing like doves
too low to seduce the ear
attracting little attention

yet requiring awareness
and deep intuition

though it is knowledge that cannot be obtained
outside of the whirlwind
for those trapped in the funnel cloud chaos
alone, frightened, riding the eye to its destiny
within the storm’s relentless violence
there is in this experience
clarity now– made plain–
numerous mysteries
conspicuous in that time, in that place, in that state
when the mind bends low, kneels to fate

an unfamiliar encounter
evidence leaves its mark
like a cattle brand
upon the insubstantial
the intangible
it is one’s spirit that whispers
its joy and its pain
pleads with you to acknowledge
to listen
to sing the song of the night
and the rain

Mind Prism

snowy white starry bright
is the vast canvas inside my mind
constructed in mine own image and sensibility of right
blanket of glory
unsubtle white light
which eclipses all shades by my perception and my might
like a marble statue with smooth blind eyes
whatever I command stays hidden from sight
monochromatic oneness is all that I dream
a color with force
light like a beam
which is not to say: mote
nor to say: trance or hallucinogenic imagining
I choose not to illuminate shades that I would not see
within this prism of whiteness
is a prison of what seems
too destructive
too instructive
to erase all this fantasmagoria within my reverie
why should I shed light upon
that
which
I don’t wish to
..see