“WHAT DO YOU CALL THIS”
God are humans now, oh my! I guess that’s what chivlery is for. Cusing doesn’t compare though you feel dirty anyway. You do it it because and out of disgust. Does it excuse it? Probably not but we do it out of frustration. Frustration of words not met of the intelligence and truth sought. You feel out of place. You feel cut off. You talk, mostly, listen and hear their frustrations too. Then you get a “free people” subliminal message that means shit to you. A big snot not meant for you but for Rosa Parks. You don’t know whether to be blessed or insulted but you don’t take it as an insult, though many could. Then you ask yourself am I that low on the totem poll after how far we’ve come? To use a Royal lineage as a racial slur without her consent or knowledge. You are on that bus anyway. You look at it a 1000 ways and still can’t quite wrap your head around it. You think to yourself that you’ve never seen yourself disrespect the heritage only to have it turned on you without a solid. You think are all the facts out there or am I their ploy? Did they listen to my early heritage and they sought revenge on theirs? Ebony and ivory I heard so casually, so arrogantly and nonchalantly as if they have been watching for many years. You find white man have turned against you too over rumors that exclude. It had to have been the woman in your family because it wasn’t the men, they have known how to slide for centuries. Woman get the wrap while the men get a ride. There are understanding family members that can relate in all families and then we resemble a sister. A mother. A man. And then all the sudden you are called a selfish Nazi by your German husband! Only to be handed over to the Jews. You hear in the wind that the big bad black man wants revenge. And don’t get me started on that Mexican. You go to you war with no other choice given that caused you nausea leaving you to vomit in the trash bin. Too smart for your patsy and to wise unless you want the same self resistance to a possible demise. You find your twin flame a familiar phase to turn around and question the stage. Your old friends aren’t friends at all because you are different then they are. They search for your flaws and thrive on them because you want them happy and it seems strange to them. You compete anyway, knowing you are. beautiful too not just on the surface but inside too. You truly do know your self worth. You go solo for your own saving grace, though you’d rather debate face to face, in all its range. You isolate yourself because of the peg that goes both ways and the tiresome lies that have had no end. We see the good intentions just not without discrimination which also goes both ways, after all we were made. An Indigo child you find yourself to be and you relate to them unintentionally. Talented in many ways only to be a wall flower for their display. Let’s top this off with being the 12th sign of the zodiac, which holds all the previous signs traits so you understand more than just being an indigo. You feel everything good and bad and cry for their reasons, you shut yourself off for your sanity to have some type of healthy vanity. You pull the plug only to listen to yourself because the world around you doesn’t make any sense. You prefer the blinds to turn the page to make your own colorful story with width and range. Your story you wait to call it, its your own right and will, not to be had, taken, or made for a steal. You sit still with yourself now, realizing you should have listened then and not fought their good intentions. You resisted because you didn’t understand it because it was your sanctuary and thought it had no disadvantage. You don’t regret anything or feel sad or small anymore, you merely accept it with all the weary gore. It wasn’t that bad to explore, finding your journey interesting and gallant than having much more, so you write and find your rhyme so you don’t have to lose your mind. It’s funny to clown and find the blame, but that’s not the goal when all you hope to gain is your own sweet soul that you know was never held for their vain. Thanks Michael. You still have that humor I see, and you still made me laugh back in Galilee. This ones for you.
In memory of Michael Skore
Ennio Morricone — Cinema Paradiso (In Concerto — Venezia 10.11.07)
