Why Can't You See Me

What if quakes never shook Earth and water never left its home?
What if planes didn't destroy towers and death tolls didn't rise by the hour?
What if tragedy never intervened?
Would you ever see me?

In the absence of travesty, I should call you Your Majesty.
When pain is mutual, we come together in a manner that is unusual.
Would that this unity could last beyond the memory of death and devestation.
Would that this new millinium could finally bind this nation.

Seems, however, that as soon as CNN moves on,
Bygones are no longer bygones and we go back to singing the same old song.
Hate, nigger, wetback, honkey, terrorist.
And yet we all cross arm over chest to the same flag.
We all wear the same uniform when we pledge.

Why can't you see me?
The artist, the friend?
Why can't you see your mother in me?
Why can't you show some of the mercy you would your daughter?

Why can't you see past my brown skin?
Why can't you see me?

Random Randomness

Have you ever felt so lonely that silence is like being stuck in a railway tunnel, its so loud and you just want to put your fist through something? I have. You just have to ride it out. Ride those waves and rejoice when it ends.

Criminal Decision

I live in what some may consider a small city. It wants desperately to be a big city, but it is not. There are people, rich, poor and other who want it to be a big city. The rich to be richer and the poor to be less so. In the absence of hope of being richer, the rich place their boot on the necks of the middle class. In the absence of hope for the poor, they place their sneakers on the neck of their fellow poor to middle class.

Those in the middle, just try to stay out of the line of fire. But at what point do we all stop being afraid, dust the sand from our hair and take a stand? There comes a point when people get tired. Tired of being afraid of having, to want anything. Afraid of the most common courtesy and how it can be misconstrued, because people are more like animals than humans. Beasts, worse than the most rabid dog.

When they get tired they rise up and woe unto those who have oppressed them. Woe unto the gun toting, doo-rag wearing, pants sagging, ebonic speaking, criminal minded oppressors. You don't believe me? You don't believe that the oppressed rise up, that they one day wake up and say, I'd rather die than live like this. Those same people who witness nothing, who huddle inside well before dark, afraid to be near windows, for fear of stray lead.

Those people eventually rise up. They take to the streets and throw rocks at tanks. When their friends and family are strung up, impaled on bayonettes, those victimized scream in the face of their oppressors and dare them to kill them. Charge them with their crimes and say "Kill me or set me free!" Revolutionary Emiliano Zapata rallied, "It is better to die standing than live on your knees."

Do you believe that? Do we, as a people, believe that? What is to be done when a parent says, my child will not go to that school, no matter what you say because I am not raising a criminal and in a den of criminals, he becomes prey? Who stands up for that paren? We cry for the system to intervene, but truly systems can only do so much. People and conscious change things.

When you say it is unacceptable for you to sell poison on my corner, because my tax dollars pay for this corner. When conscious says yes I saw something. And others' conscious voice joins yours. These oppressors are cowards and unity is what they fear, because they lack true unity. We have opportunity in adversity to join with those charged with our protection and say, Hey, I'll help you if you help us.

What's the alternative? Fear and further unrest. Fear breeds calamity and desperation. Is that what we want? To be afraid and desperate? To bring some hated evil down on ourselves or someone else because we are so scared. This is not a promotion to vigilantism, but for conscious. Speak up and demand justice and peace. You work hard for what you have, shouldn't you have peace in your home? Shouldn't your children be able to play in the yard you pay taxes on?

Every wannabe thug has made a decision. People can lament their home life and circustances until the cows come home. Their is no father in the home, they were beat, afraid. Whatever circumstance, they made a decision to go from oppressed to oppressor. They made the cowardly decision to stop fighting against their circumstance and submit to them. Rather than be part of the solution, they choose to be part of the problem.

For every young person who made that criminal decision, you are the enemy. Until you decide otherwise, we are at war, you and I. There can be no peace in fear. If it is your cause to make fear burn in my breast, it is my cause to see you caged like the ravening beast you are. If the choice be made between you and I, there is no choice. I win.

As someone who loves the youth and hopes for their brighter future. As a person who can see where this path leads for you, I can only hope you would turn back. I don't want you writing jailhouse memoirs about the horrors of the prison system. I don't want to see you struggling in a wheelchair to the welfare office to beg and be demeaned. I don't want to see your destruction.

Yet I see it coming. I see the vultures circling, waiting for what remains of your carcass. I see your family weeping as your blood stains concrete. I see you on the bench at the court house with your public defender in his J.C. Penney's suit telling the bleak tale of your future. I see your mother, angry, hard, sitting beside you, regret and harsh pride her mantle.

I see clearly the results of your decisions. I also see that every child born has a bright and promising future, whether he be born in poverty or with a silver spoon in his mouth. That child has to make a decision. Excuses masked as reasons, don't justify poor decisions. Choose life and good. Fight for them. Death and evil are the easy choices.

In The Name Of Jesus

In The Name of Jesus

Today, two mighty warriors met on the field of battle.

Good to see you, says our champion.

For indeed it was good that our adversary was recognized as such.

Swords lift in salute.

Innocuous words, and yet not flow one to another.

Yea, words that reveal trickery and deceit.

An absolute absence of fear in the face of absolute faith in He who spoke and made a promise to a people.

Where are you from?

In days past, the adversarial warrior may have been asked by another such champion,

From whence do you hail?

The answer is the same.

All over.

A roaring lion, to and fro, seeking only to destroy.

The adversary moves across the battlefield,

Dances a dance of wickedness and hatred.

Aye, for every other trick tried this day failed.

The adversary seeks our champion, but is denied his quarry.

Sheathing sword, our champion cedes the battlefield.

Not to the dark warrior, but to his troops.

There are other soldiers about.

It is they now who must prove steel to steel.

The champion gave over the battle to One greater than all.

It is He, we the remaining warriors, must see.

The adversary must sense the distrust,

Soldiers straining at invisible bonds, raring to break free.

To rip this diseased meat from our midst.

Hands reach for dagger as flesh rises.

Knowing…

Knowing as a stallion scents a hungry wolf,

That this one in disguise is not one of us.

Warriors move forward, characters in this great script.

Those not yet ready to lift sword are cleared from the battlefield.

The adversary moves about, cocky and arrogant.

The champion is gone, he thinks, leaving you sheep to the slaughter.

Drown in your fear and misery.

Knowing my father, today, will take this victory.

Your dagger will not help.

Your anger and bloodlust.

I feed, ye foolish, I yet feed!

But cooler heads prevail as one voice rises before it can claim what it will.

In the name of Jesus!

The sound of a mighty sword being unsheathed can barely keep up with the strike.

The sword remains up and at arms.

Shut up!

The pawn lashes out as the warrior delivers the blow to the chest.

The pawn fears as the adversary grows angry.

Calm settles the soldiers.

Following the example set,

Remembering scripture and prophecy being foretold,

Likewise, they pulled mighty swords from sheath,

The sound resounding throughout.

Shields are raised, battle cry uttered,

In the name of Jesus.

No other words needed,

No other sounds heard.

In the name of Jesus!

In the name of Jesus!

In the name of Jesus!

In the name of Jesus, this battle is won.

Warrior and pawn flee, having found soldiers inside of sheep in these women and men.

Petty enough to lash out, but already defeated.

In the name of Jesus, we the free who yet are not our own, have the victory.

Like warriors after battle we huddle, recounting the day’s events,

Remembering things forgotten.

The warmth of God’s love and oneness, pushes the ice from our hearts as adrenaline wanes.

Some taste the copper taste of fear, because we were almost too late.

Some for having stood at all.

We look to the hills, for truly this is the latter reign,

And we who remain must be ready to lift shield and sword.

Not only to take what is ours, but to hold on to what we have been given.

No more babes to teat.

We are warriors; we eat meat.

The battle is on and we must be ready to fight.

Standing strong as David, wise as Solomon, faithful as Abraham.

In this, we are more than conquerors.