Thursday, June 25, 2020

Steel Humans


we give life to its participants. so many graves such occupation while slowly decolonialized. watching incompetence. so close to wires. so much ignorance to feed our gullets. such imbeciles as crosses are exploited while citizens try so damn hard. a piece of pain, a plate of pain, or the whole damn watermelon. to see it crack, crashing from social libraries, where might is deemed as adequate. so fragile by such a thread so much sewn into imperialistic soil. (we run a great risk, that is, in suggesting we matter, we run a threat of ostracizing others; but we have faced systematic alienation, fraught by decimation, brutalization, either demeaned unto debasement or plain murdered.) if to imagine, while living in America, deemed as a nuisance to America. but ever enduring, no promise of tomorrow or receiving the best of negativity: such deliberate denigration, such furious disposition, while the supposition is that those people are by divine appointment: their lives, their stations, where it becomes so ugly our children take it as absolute science. we mix or mingle we try to outwit genetic inclination. racism seems like fate, or a gene pool, or loneliness for one destined for a faraway kingdom…no second thought of invisibility, no need for right now, for endure and heaven will pour into you. where others are magnificent, supported by culture, destined to create heaven in this existence. the complaint is so obvious. the measure is so apparent. where most colored Americans suffer from systematic menticide. (as it stands, we have not an understanding, where the helm is absent of an operator. education should matter, when selecting a leader, while riches may only speak to arrogance.) I, too, need a smile, faced by such a struggle, where each person is running a particular monopoly. something genuine seems like myth. or something secure, in an insecure structure, seems like living out a fairytale. we tend to sound hopeless, this becomes the tension, in trying to explain something so embedded, with such resistance, where it’s like dripping water pelting into solid steel.    

I’d Save The Reader Years

    The beat becomes sickness. A long crucible—a drilling ecstasy. I was losing focus, feeling forbidden, if to self, if to mirrors. So curs...