You know when you kill them with kindness,
you’re actually killing them with shame and humiliation.
It takes kindness to show someone what a shit they’ve become,
something about contrasting tones against each other.
Pride likes its new home
occupying my heart
settlements on my skin
checkpoints set up around a gated soul
This way it feels safe.
It’s more difficult to swallow it now
Without choking on my flesh
and drowning in my amylase
My Archeology professor once shared with the class that he always wondered why some groups of Americans have the title American on their political labels while others didn’t. I was surprised that this question even crossed his mind. I always thought that when you don’t have a political label you’re incapable of identifying with those who do.
He didn’t have a political label.
I’m called ethnic American not because I’m truly accepted as the latter but as a form of activism, an attempt by my government to instill order among an impulsive group of patriotic and not-so patriotic individuals…
"Yeah sure there are some of those here. But this one is American."
"No he’s, Mexican."
"No, he’s Mexican American.”
Common ground found between two trying to negotiate discrimination.
African American- even though you’ve been here longer than most.
but still, American.
I didn’t raise my hand and offer my thoughts. Not because I wasn’t confident with my answer. But because even in his eyes the reflection that I saw of myself were the words Ethnic American written in old english calligraphy over and over and over again.
Self-reflection is an interview–
of the ego
by the soul.
— Dan Goldstein
Every time I want to take my life apart and start all over, I am reminded of a time when I took apart an old gaming system in order to remove a penny.
There was nothing wrong with the system. The penny didn’t mess it up, the penny didn’t even move much. But the thought of it existing in the device annoyed me to no end. It just didn’t belong. So I finally removed the coin.
When I put the game together again, it no longer worked. I’m afraid that if I tried to take this apart and remove whatever it is I want to remove, it too will no longer work.
don’t let the way they walk delude you
the people here aren’t confident
they walk near cracks of hopelessness
and their destiny springs ‘em back from it
don’t let the way they talk confuse you
the people here are fools, indeed
on their lives they’d swear it red
tomorrow they’ll swear blues and greens
safest place from a beast
in its belly
'cause in a beasts belly
is a world of coward beasts
starvin’ and seekin’ for frightened cowards to eat
Very talented man.
Produced, written, performed, directed, shot, edited . by Brandon Ericson
Much time’s been spent.
You seek an excuse.
Know when you find it,
I’ll be joining you.
And Joy, you can’t say
I’ll ruin your plans
If your plan’s
not to plan ever again
Go. Dig your hole.
Mine will be bigger.
Trained by your hands.
Make me a digger.
All is placed here.
All has been said.
I’ll follow suit.
And I’ll make you undead.
the sound of a weak soulless prayer
‘let there be light in front of you’
so quick to forget your name
but if we were true,
sorrow is too
And I’ve been here long enough to know
that we remember what hurts the most
and those we are familiar with most
they’re what we’ll let, inside us, grow
Cass Farms Green Alley
The green alley demonstrates earth-friendly approaches to managing rainwater runoff, reducing heat island effect, promoting recycling, conserving energy, and fostering a connected, walkable community.
everyone’s afraid of sharing
how close they’ve come
because of a rumor
called the tired-some
dark and tired some
who’ve been touched
by an infectious darkness
that’ll make you too stride
in depressing thumps
a soloist without a verse,
just tired and dark da-dums
Civil Rights and natural Justices
written in colored ink
An ink color that cannot contrast
when placed on some skin
Lost somewhere between pores
ignored because it cannot be seen
The thin line between emotions, cards, and reality
smeared and no longer identifiable
The worn garment intended to blind
the eyes of the hunter and free the prey
The worn garment capturing both
the eyes of the hunter and the form of the prey
The bruise, no. The cells of blood
gathering in a defiant riot inside your flesh
The dotted line you signed above
to set things straight and settle the unsettled
The robe of your liberator
covering the skin of your terror
The robe of the last man
to ever lay hands on him
The end of all wrongs associated with color
and the only universal truth.