Reality In A Dream

in my dream last night

I jumped

and started to kick my legs

like I was swimming

and the next thing I knew,

I was high above the tree tops

and then I thought about it

and remembered that people can’t fly

and immediately, I fell back to earth

and woke up just before I hit the ground

Posted in Uncategorized

We Pluck Flowers

We pluck flowers from the garden

and make a bouquet

 

we pluck strings on the guitar

and make music

 

we pluck feathers from a chicken

and make a meal

 

we pluck people from their homes and villages,

shove them into refugee camps,

bomb the refugee camps

and make it look

like they are the terrorists

when the medics tending those shot

for non-violent protest

are met with snipers bullets,

when the children throwing stones

out of anger and frustration

fear and desperation,

are met with snipers bullets,

when the scant mortars fired blindly

by a few of the occupied,

broken,

traumatized refugees

are met with the billion dollar advanced military weaponry

of their oppressors,

leveling homes,

hospitals,

and schools…

when the survivors are picked off by snipers

one by one

as they sift through the rubble to retrieve the dead,

when refugees are turned into refugees

again and again and again…

 

We pluck flowers from the garden

and make a bouquet

to place on the graves of the dead

 

we pluck strings on the guitar

and make music

to play in memory of the dead

 

we pluck feathers from a chicken

to make a meal

to nourish the grieving,

and give them the strength

to continue their struggle for freedom…

Posted in Garden, Gaza, poem, Poetry, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , ,

Eden

there is no heaven

there is no hell

there is only purgatory,

here on earth.

the endless suffering that we cause others

as we destroy their countries,

villages,

farms,

homes,

families,

and lives

is directly connected

to the endless suffering

here in America

as we gobble down fists full of pills

and drink and smoke and inject

anything and everything we can get our hands on

we need to numb the pain

but our pain will continue

we will slowly continue losing our fucking minds

until the last bomb drops

until the last bullet flies

until the last well is polluted

until the last forest is cut down…

until the last tax dollar is paid to the government

until capitalism crumbles

and Rome burns to the fucking ground.

 

We will plow through the ashes to plant our gardens

and these gardens,

grown among the ashes of the empire

will be our Eden

You believe in your fairy tales,

so let me have mine.

Posted in poem, Poetry, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , ,

I Am Ashamed To Be…

I am ashamed

to be American

in a world occupied,

battered

and bombed by Americans

 

I am ashamed to be Caucasian

in a word occupied,

battered,

and bombed by Caucasians

 

I am ashamed to be a man

in a world occupied,

battered,

and bombed by men

 

I am ashamed to be human

in a world occupied,

battered,

and bombed by humans

 

I am ashamed to be…

 

Posted in america, american dream, poem, Poetry, Uncategorized, war | Tagged , , ,

I Was Proud, Once

I was proud, once

so proud to be

soaking in slogans like

‘freedom isn’t free’

and pledging my allegiance

blindly

and the pledging began before

I realized that Santa Claus

and the Easter bunny

and the tooth fairy

didn’t exist

it began at a time

when most kids

will believe anything

 

but even after that,

I went on pretending

that I believed in the tooth fairy

because a dollar a tooth

seemed better than the truth,

better than reality.

 

I went on pretending

that I believed in the Easter bunny

because, though I made a lot of money

from the tooth fairy

I never traded my sweet tooth for a dollar

and it was a little white lie

worth the prize

of a basket filled with fake grass,

chocolate eggs,

and peepz.

 

I went on pretending

that I believed in Santa Claus

because I didn’t understand

that all those presents wrapped under the tree

for my brother, sister, and me

were bought with a credit card

because no matter how many hours my parents worked,

or how hard,

the middle class was always out of reach

so, I always acted grateful for what Santa brought

and I never thought about the consequences.

 

I went on pretending

that I believed in America

because I thought I needed the dollars

thought I needed the chocolate

thought I needed the presents,

and I thought it felt good,

thought, ‘this is what freedom tastes like’

as I washed down a burger with a super-sized cola

thought, “all these dollars,

and chocolates,

and presents,

and burgers,

and super-sized colas,

and American flags,

this is what freedom is.”

But I didn’t believe it.

I didn’t believe any of it.

I stopped believing in the god of Catholicism

before my confirmation.

I stopped believing in America

before swearing an oath

to support and defend the constitution.

I stopped believing, but I wanted to believe

felt I needed to believe

so I pretended to believe.

But deep down, it felt just as wrong

as it did to collect those dollar bills

and those chocolate eggs

and those Christmas presents.

 

By the time that I realized

that trading my conscience

for a dollar bill

or a chocolate Easter egg

or a present from Santa Claus

or the illusion of freedom,

was spiritual suicide,

it was too late.

I was in Iraq,

 

I wanted to believe in God

I wanted to believe in America…

but I was ashamed that,

long after I had stopped believing

I kept on pretending.

 

Pretending in things that aren’t real

can be deadly.

So, never again will I pretend

not for money

not for chocolate

not for presents,

or anything,

material or otherwise.

I was proud, once

but never again…

and never again will I pretend.

 

 

 

 

 

Posted in poem, Poetry, Uncategorized | Tagged ,

Stand

Trying to stand with the oppressed

I still find myself standing on top of them

and I can no longer stand to be around anyone

I can no longer stand anyone,

even myself

I stand here utterly disgusted with humanity

of which I am a part

our sisters and brothers are suffocating

and we are the ones standing on their throat

denying them oxygen

they are drowning

and it is our jackboots holding them under.

 

Brainwashed, we don’t realize this

but a few of us manage to break free

from the computer program,

somehow,

and wrest back a little control over our minds

and resist

but here we are,

still standing in line

in this program

still programed

killing our conscience for convenience

driving ourselves insane as our soul is eaten

piece by piece,

bit by bit

more and more each day

until it finally disappears out of the exhaust

and when we try to toe the line

between the old world of brainwashed fairy-tales

and reality

we find ourselves still standing

beneath the blood-soaked red, white, and blue

pledging our allegiance with each dollar bill we spend

and no matter where you go

there you are

standing somewhere not far

from a US military base

and the race was over long before we were born

so we cling to an idea that people are just

and it’s just a few bad apples

but the orchard is rotten

the trees were planted atop indigenous communities

and old graveyards.

It’s all rotten, none of the fruit can be saved

 

and I cry for Syria

and I cry for Iraq

and I cry for Afghanistan

and I cry for Yemen

and I cry for Somalia

and I cry for Uganda

and I cry for Libya

and I cry for Palestine

and I cry for black lives

and I cry for refugees

and I cry for immigrants

and I cry for those we killed

to plant this rotten orchard

and I cry

and I cry

and I cry

but these tears are alligator tears

so long as I trust in their God

and burn those fossils

and remain complicit in the system,

complicit in the slaughter

 

how can we live

with ourselves

when so many die

because of us?

and even if

we somehow weren’t complicit

what the hell are we doing

to stop the oppression?

 

How can we stand to live

in a world such as this?

How can we stand to live

around people such as these?

How can we stand

when it would mean so much

to for so many

for us to take a knee…

because, if we’re not fighting for the oppressed

the very least we could do

is stop taking part in their oppression.

 

If we cannot truly stand with them,

let’s not stand on them.

Posted in Afghanistan, america, american dream, collateral damage, Dakota Access Pipeline, death, democracy, empire, ethnic cleansing, Gaza, government, greed, poem, Poetry, refugees, Uncategorized, war, war tax resistance | Tagged , , , , , , , ,

The Weeds

Sometimes it rains and the vegetables grow

but so do the weeds

and the weeds grow faster and stronger

and sometimes the weeds suffocate the vegetables

before we can intervene

and sometimes they consume the entire garden

but the rains stop and summer comes

and in summer the weeds dry

and wither

and die

and we’re reminded

that no matter how bad the weeds may get

no matter how many gardens they consume

they too will die and return to the earth.

 

Posted in poem, Poetry, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , ,