Posts tagged ‘america’

July 22, 2015

Chance Apologetic

Atonement for guilt
simply of being;

humans the way we are,
the unjust that we do.

Fixing all past, present, and future
with institutions, and enigmas—

what is there for neutral
and nothing,

if everything
is
wrong or right?

July 20, 2015

High Heat Sunday

Turning day to night as a light switch in a room
had shadows evaporating into themselves,
outlines seen were hot and sticky
for the summer humidity and sharp shine.
A black car sheen stood burning
in an open lot as a dead mouse
in grey fur swelled and swarmed with flies.
The sweet cloy of trash hit nostrils
like a left hook of some welterweight
sweating hard, pulling in the ring.
Plastic garbage bags expanded
in the sweltering heat of midday July
becoming tight as the skin of a drum.
Few cotton clouds cast no guard in
vast rich nitrogen blue skyscapes,
going on, what fast changed above.
Seems Sunday was properly labeled for
this weather; there was tan leather,
blue jeans, bright bandanas, and cold beer.
It was unlike any other beautiful day.

July 17, 2015

In a Crowd of Clowns

Dead artists & counterfeit idealists
Travel same paths I’ve once roamed.
To judge, to assert, as one were God—
Step off of your high-founded throne.

July 13, 2015

Confederate Flags, Cotton, & The Vikings; Modern Symbolism

I sort of understand
The confederate flag supporters—

I don’t agree with them,
But idiots are idiots;

I root for a losing team as well.

It’s insane.

The Minnesota Vikings are
Historically a losing team
That everyone loves,
Their organization represents
Our humble and beautiful state
In near billion dollar facilities
And tax incentives.

Now I wonder,
These two groups are similar,
The Southern States and the Vikings (The NFL Team),
In that they did/do not often win—or never did,

Same, yeah…
Different, yeah…

Use your imagination…

They are similar
Except for the fact that
the Vikings (seafarers) never kept slaves (presumably),
They just raped, plundered, and pillaged
Whole cultures and peoples (See: Ireland),
Taking power and rule,

By way of attacks.

I don’t think everyone knows this,
Or thinks about this
When they fly their purple and yellow flag,
Or when they don
Their cherished team’s memorabilia,

But we certainly care about things.

It’s always an interesting game of money and distraction,
And who can yell the loudest on what interests them the most.

Now, I don’t know who to root for anymore,
There isn’t really anything that doesn’t represent something else…

To everyone else.

***
And what about cotton, the cash crop of slavery?
You and I wear in on ourselves daily.
The symbol doesn’t need to be obnoxious,
Star-spangled, red, white, or even blue to be offensive.

There is hate in just about everything,
And love, if you look hard enough.

July 5, 2015

Riverside for the Fourth

How interesting that fireworks now bring us together
when they represent devices that once tore us apart.

-Terry Scott Niebeling

***

here, 10pm, crowds on spread tarps and chairs,
thoughtfully placed earlier,
chatted along a spilt-over sidewalk path,
coming down to the Riverside fest grounds
with family and friends;
these goers were just stepping through, at a time.

taking air along the luminescence of the waters’ edge
waiting for fire, explosions, light and smoke,
waiting for a show of power
on the concussion boom’s holiday eve
of a hot summer day.

notice the faint ghost outline of the Cass st. bridge,
it went up tall toward the south on wet glow,
pale blue in orange light as navigational lights
sent from boats bounced to and fro below signaling.

where mayflies flew, stunk, buzzed;
their fate kept them at lamps
busy for their annual dance.

people in groups—no worse,
buttoned up, oohing and aaaahing,
taking such a spectacle.

for a time
the mass was all American,
for a time nothing else mattered.

viewing were homeless and rich
in the same theatre vantage;
spirits were aloft as this year’s sparkling
in gunpowder and smoke,
the thought that everything was all right,
illuminated on another shore—
in a time of celebration, in a nation
under a spangled flag.

June 25, 2015

The places we’ve seen (have seen us)

Motion reflected between where you are and where you will be;

Void for a shadow where you were, ever lying in wait to reconvene.

June 24, 2015

Adjusted Advantage

The world can seem so small
when assessed from the confines
of a one bedroom apartment.
A space tight, sticky, stuffy,
and near unbearably drab.
For a person to go outside and look,
to see all there is to see—to expand the expanse,
to imagine what one might attain
in the span of a lifetime,
at the change of a thought,
on the prospect of a whim, at the drop of a dime.
A perspective can be released
from its rigid boxy cage to stretch sore wings
and to grasp the once unthinkable,
for merely a chance thought,
and for adjusted sight, mercy!

June 21, 2015

Rachel Dolezal is also a Person

Homosexual
Straight
Transgender
Transrace

A person can relate
Through whatever debate
With:
“I love you”.

***

Always,
Some can’t while others can.

June 2, 2015

At the Back of Hodson Hall

At the enormous back windows of Hodson Hall, looking east towards Falcon Heights’ standing homes, over an expanse of grooved fields—carefully worked, a person can gleam breaking light caught on cement sidewalks, red bricked structures, and shined square glass low in the early day haze.

Outside seagulls float, calling, in caressing morning brilliance at you, asking “caw?”

What does that mean??? I wonder.

Their questions as ambivalent as a cloud’s shape and meaning to curious children…

I wondered, how did they get here, there is no sea in Minnesota (smh).

These worldly reflections begged, knocked, and retained sharp attention of waking eyes, pupils pulled tight at the warming occurrence, such nature for a sparking mind to ponder, as if synapse was crackling, as if creation was tore in two.

Supple ears held the bird’s sound in their netted web of up and down—their inquiry, as they danced, above, gliding, laughing high pitched at you.

Only to stand and watch, only inside what is inside.

The sun had begun its orbital voyage, those with white feathers and all life in tow, infinite unending, and all the connections of connections exposed.

It paint as an artist’s brush over lands, trees and grass, overhead, above polo shirts and homeless ragged men, showing.

Leaving for a moment its mark; then as fleeting as it appears it vanishes to dark.

The warmth was there to stay—so ephemeral, as a Mayfly’s life, in a moment’s hesitation lost; shadows draw long in the absence, as flowers quick bend their praise.

A day we have, then not.
It is here, then it is gone.

This colorful set constantly changing, to the chagrin of progress, to the luck of fickle nature, and to the impromptu dialogue of the local theatre company.

Another tomorrow awaits at the end of coming dusk, with quizzical seagulls, with fascist sunlight, with worldly reflections in tow, with fired synapse and buttoned polos and people begging for change, anything you could spare will do, until they take their bow.

And the light caught it all at the back of Hodson Hall.

(End Scene.)

May 31, 2015

A Media Inspired Solution to Everything (Modern Movements)

A pair of eyes stare at the “problem”.
A single mind labels, calculates, and retains.
A pair of hands do nothing for meaningful progress.
Another group of “activists” yell: change!, change!, change!

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