Make a Difference Day?

What we need is
Not more make a difference days
We need every day to be about
Making a difference

By not living opposingly differently
But by recognizing how
Similar we are
Two ears two eyes one mouth
Beating hearts
Circulating blood
Taste budded tongues and
Nails on fingers, toes that grow

What we need is
Not more singular make a difference days
What we need is
Not respect life weeks
Meaning one week long
One day long

We need
Love without getting tired
We need encouragement for voices
We need stretched, deep wells for ears…
We need organization, direct (non violent) action direction
We need synergy, unity
Acceptance as real as spring blooms
Blooming every day
Right
And left
Not asking them to take a middle view
They take their view, openly
Like sidewalk cracks
Allowing for time to contract the two
Into one mosaic tapestry that is the map
To which we are all coming and going
Looking for treasure
Dressing up for ones self
Celebrating ourselves
How we are different and how we are
Similar
And how we need to stand
For ourselves, palms up
And how we need to walk
With one another, carrying eachother
Laughing and smiling and letting tears
And wild screams uplift and move the clouds
Around the universe as we
Flirt our friction and tickle one another
With it like feathers on the neck
Instead of on the chopping block
Guillotine, no efface the marine
Who masquerades as a man of peace
Marine man
Your two ears two eyes one mouth
Stop and breathe with me for a moment
As We watch people pass by
And I see you
You see me as your
Sister brother
And we understand
Breath, breathing, seeing, seeking to understand
How difference can be made
Every day
Every moment
The difference is us acting differently
By acting openly, understandingly
Palms up, eyes open, breathing
With one another

Seriously but simply and
Ego weapons disarmed
Vulnerability a yo yo reeled no longer
Now, sitting on the table, with the
Broken hour glass
No sand shall measure our time
This time, this moment is all we have
The us, the you, me one in
Waking, laughing, lurching backwards
If we must, life
Not progress we value but
Truth
Justice, dignity, respecting me
Understanding you
To unearth that thing called love
That the Beatles said was all we need
And poets and artists and everyone scratches
Their head, marries, moves, mates with and for
And is silent and sweet and misunderstood and hot
Flames and is sung about, rhymed about, holiday'd over
And on and on and on
The thing called love
Is really about understanding
The commonality of us
The community of mosaic tapestry
We, the you and me, tile and weave
We are the ocean
We are the sand
We are the sun and the rain
We are the tree
We are
One in the waking, breathing, yawning
Sun rising
Sun setting life
Smiling at the moon in mid day
Not symmetrical or
Media naranjas just simply
Quilt pieces, body parts

Together, open palm understanding
The problem with
Make a difference day
Make a difference day suggests you
Can make a difference one day
You can only see poor people one day
For one afternoon, take the picture and
Go home
Take a shower, take a nap, plan for a party
And go on, feeling warm and do smething for someone else tingly
And get a tshirt, and wear it and be happy
And talk about the poor kids you hugged, the garden you
Planted and sweat beads you shed
And im disgusted, give me a barf bag because
Im going to hurl the truth out and its gonna putrid puke stink
And
Make a difference day is
About living sidewalk crack open
Mindful of vicissitides, vestiges, vims, and voids
And setting vengeance aside like its veal and you’re a vegetarian
And on and on and on and on
Open, eyes open, clouds open
To pouring rain, to cool, for earth to imbibe
Cool openness, purification sensation
And are you OPEN to education, awarness
Beyond chalkboard monotony
Are you Open to experience, to putting your feet
Forewad, to sitting on a bench and observing, listening
To a hungry, thirsty homeless child
On the streets of st. louis as the business men in ties
Walk with buisines partners
Are you Open to perspectives, plural
And to the two eyes two ears one mouth of the child
And the two eyes two ears one mouth of the man
And
Around I go like a carousel like a planet in orbit
And like a nervous person pacing
Knocking on your door, seeking to understand how
You and I will seek to understand
Openly
And be one in our humanity
Of respect, dignity and
What are our minds and our souls and hands
And the steps of each and the path we walk
We step away from and retrace and look for
Those we lost and

I am not a dreamer
I am you
Two eyes two ears one mouth
I am
Waking, yawning, stretching with
All these people walking by
In lion, tiger, zebra costumes
And I don’t know where they are going
With their two eyes two ears one mouth
With their make a difference day sshirts
And they are making a difference on the dance floor
And to their date
And why does makign a difference have to be a one
Day one night deal
Cause im here to tell you
If youre still here
That its not, its not different tomorrow
Than it is today
Todays need for you to, if you need to
Be living “differently” that is, with openness
For Understanding than live differently
With this understanding-openness
There is no make a difference day
For everyday, in each moment allows
Understanding to know
Two eyes two ears one mouth

We all want to see, to hear
To speak, to be listened to
And to make a difference every moment
To someone by this understanding-openess
This love this respect
One person
The world, one
Mosaic tapestry moun la gente
Today!

a first draft replied Howl to A. Ginsberg

a rough, first draft, but a replied howl to you, A. Ginsberg:


the best minds remain,

starving, histerical, naked

or is it,

purging, apathetic, overdressed

i think about the piercing splitting dichotomies
as they drum a drone
as they drizzle daggers into my
sternum
rib cage split, ragin pit of eternal hellecstasy

ghoulish, neon american city night light powered by
some energy source
we hear about on a news headline
housing crisis, not adult, does it matter

my thoughts
run through red lights
and become crashed, collateral damage
for my culprit, guilty sweat arm pit mistake
and i cant take
it
back

and i thought about the place i walk out my door to
the place i walk in my door from
and
the place is called Saint Louis University
college,
where the dichotommies are so dangerous
"they" are still working on creating the
caution tape to warn the

purging, apathetic, overdressed

because if we were, the starving, histerical, naked

we would be okay, and an okay not prescribed by an Indian in a white coat
not prescribed by some supercorporate drug company with a butterfly mascot
or another sick smiling face endorsement
no, its not that im out of shape bent
i never had no shape at all
no label
just madness

starving, histerical, naked -- mad

how could i not defy the drizzling dagger madness
denting, carving ditches into my fungi spongee acme mind
moldy mushrooms, no roots

just rooted in cloud castle fortitude-dreaming truth
hey,
at least thier perdurable un precipitating clouds

let me tell you
what i know, its what
i see

major wise let me stroll down the roll call--

i went to wash my hands in the bathroom
i heard the lunch from pancreas
purging the soup and panini
so she could fit in the spring break bikini
- even if your no nutritionist
your just a perfectionist headsicktwistedist
you know
that mucus bile plasma smell
how it looks a clear web on your hand
sick sick sick

i went to get coffee and outside
the pre med Indians and type A sons of
lawyers, doctors, laser surgeons
in there for the money, in there for their parents pressure cooking
there brains rattled like thanksgiving turkeys
and we're all so thankful
for the doctors who
knock on the patient door on christmas, new years eve
on easter egg and jesus hatched morning
on passover, wait does that matter?
and these bio kids, scratching latin labelling lexicon into the frontal lobes with
their
laser pointers, searing the information gearing for mcats
while in the other hand, not laser pointer crippled
a cigarette
Marlboro poster child?
oh they defiled the hospital tile
with their
black lungs
and thats enough, the doctors been stung
quick, someone climb the last ladder rung for the
eppy pen

i went to get on the bus
and i saw the social work sisters
stepping out of the cab in 3 inch shiny heals
waving earrings,
waving to friends in ties and designer eye glasses
sleek pants
swishing not really cause thick thies
too many ice cream and steak fries rib eyes
dont recycle
dont bicycle to work, spend money like exhaled breaths
gone
cognizance gone
aware-mindfulness gone
selfish snoot social work sister, dating a fancy pants mister
why are you here, did you not hear
your not gonna keep this up you yup yup
next thing you know i got on the bus
swiped my card, the bus driver said, 'sup

i saw the best minds

dumping their brains into bongs
lighting up and taking off

i saw the best minds

purging up and out perfection
painting their memories with lumpy saliva

i saw the best minds

give in desire to be out, to do do do, make new lists, do do do
and eschew simple being, being, be

i saw the best minds

reducing perspective, suffocating in self surfeit
a self seeking ken so so bleak

i saw the best minds

shrivel, peeled orange rind to apartment air consgined
hardened, futile design

i saw the best minds

pretend, ignore, deny they werent the best, or even good at all

i saw the best minds

judge, jury, jest, jab, jolt, jab again, joust hubris that they were the only minds

i saw the best minds

or, did i see any minds?

or, was everyone a face in a gone world
was i the
only one with a
great big hungry eye

was i the only one
celebrating myself

was i the only one
calling you by your true name

was i the only one
wailing outside closed church doors

was i the only one
recycling glass juice bottles

was i the only one
listening to the smoggy sky burdens

was i the only one
who heard Mr. tambourine man

was i the only one
who believed god is a tree leaf

was i the only one
who knew Romeo and Juliet faked death

was i the only one
telling Martin to not stay at Lorraines

was i the only one
who told Eisenhower to recall his cabinet of Ford, Chrysler cronies

was i the only one
calling A. Finch to see if he could talk to Bush, tell him to walk a mile

was i the only one
Bono, no, your right, we carry eachother

was i the only one
i, you, she, he one the only

minds

tack sharp, mountain steep iceberg deep
chameleon creep, ing along, one song of madness
moshing, meditating in time with this madness song
replayed like a giant gong

on and on
om and om


on, on, on, up a hill steady- down a hill, not ready
to get back down again, looking for a friend

not to be the only one

mind

starving histerical naked
purging apathetic overdressed

not middle road medium mind, fine with a complacent spine


no, no.
yes, no i wont play you in chess
id lose in three moves

this mind mad mind you
searching searching for truth to imbue
for truth to imbue

you

so that im not the only one wondering
where why how now the best minds
curl dried up like defunct orange rinds

in hayena hysterics, bulimic barricks, where they
walked up the steps but did not knock on the door
for fear, of stepping in and falling thru a chasm crack in the floor
lost allure, can never be sure

best minds, only minds
you and i
still not sure if we one of a kind

but in a kind of way we be
humyn kind

unwind that

you, melange, myriad minds.

you, Ginsberg, hows this howl rewind...

Bonswa

thank you for checking out this site filled with words (of poetry) i've written

im looking to get a collection printed, to keep reading, writing, observing life and expressing it

[ let me know of any events/poets/photographs/music you think i should know about ]

peace.love.joy.

Zanmi Rebe

POG

It was
The tears of our mothers
Or the fears of our fathers
Tucking us in
With the
Sheets
At night
With the
Songs
At twilight
Twinkling stars and more moons than one
As we boarded boats on a bright bon voyage to the sun
In camouflage
Chuckling with chameleons
Who thot they were one in a million
Little did they know
They were a million in one
Cajoling consoling colors camping out in chasm between chaos and cheer
Tents bridging, being, terrifically strong (in them chameleons mated and did belong)
And
Pillows where heads lay
Tears fell
Fears melted silence
Like dripping candle wax onto skin
And ow
The heat from your heart hurts
I cant sleep in spurts
The bon voyage became an entourage
Of unwelcomed guests knock knock knocking
At my door
Imploring to explore me more more and
Didn’t they know
After the tears of my mother
Or the fears of my father
As if in class, my eyes were absent of angelic allure
Even the chameleons faded into the floor
So, we picked them up, a small chore
Got paid for selling them in the store
Where we bottled up joy and sold it, too
For a flashier, funnier toy, a new
football, or some junky clinquant
And
I grew gray haired, tired, a robot unwired
And
archaic
and
an Asian sacrosanct temple
I was, I am
I still
Remember more moons and chameleons
Crawling into spoons
Than I do the tender tunes
At twilight
Sheets
Tuck me in, good night
Taking the mask, placing it over my plight
Of nightmares goons
Under myriad moons
Forever washed over
In wax, whisked to the shore
with chameleons crawling into tents
Bridging the divide:
safe-warm sleep somber dreaming

and
fearful tearful streaming
The tears of our mothers
And the fears of our fathers
Forever and ever more

American Hands

one sunday morning
a
seed planter, placed
a
seed, with
two American hands,

of a solider who fought in Vietnam
of a separated father of four
of a sun leathered brow
of a new lover, a new door to walk out of
of a series of publisher's rejection letters
of a developing, capturing, film fantastic habit
of a candle making, green bean boy
of a hinterland drawn to school by a great urban magnet
of a limp in the only one pair of jeans

of a human ...living without label lexicon

all the days until the last seed is
gone

POG

Tired
Bobbing my head
On the waves lapping on sand
Sea foam, mind roams
Tired
Yawning, mouth open
Lay this head
Down

Tired
You are in my heart
Playing a soft violin
A cool
Congo drum
Cajoling soul-ing
An alma all noche
As im approaching
The sun over the
Flat mississipi soy bean field
Six a, m, sun rise

Tired
All night
Foaming, lapping
Lambent energy
Of water to wade in
Music our lives are made in
Carved out of time
And the celestial symphony

Falling asleep under stars
Up for hours
Sun light, rain drops dew on
Flowers

POG

I am


Therefore

I breathe

Therefore

I question

Why the realities of life
Seem
crumpled up pieces of paper
dejected bottom rung rejects
burning in barrels



I am

Therefore

I breathe

Therefore

I write

Fireworks smoky, red bright kites finding
Illuminous pathways to panacea


I am

Therefore

I breathe

Therefore

I reach

Into the veins of life
Vaporized by visceral vicissitudes
Into vivid vim

Light the match of my life
A flame flickers
Orange


And I, like plain prices of life, rise rise rise
Moods like bombs drop drop drop
An Economy a horse halt to a stop
Radio waves wink commercialized doo wops
Mali mali flip flops
Priced putrid cheap
whos gonna mop
Up the sandal scandal slop
The veteran, bearded, limping pop
Who knows the badfare of welfare and headache nightmare
Of certain turned chasms gapingly unfair

He was black, not a solid square
Mold, not molding or melting to any berate belting
pelting His dignity out the open window
of by me where
I sit on the adjacent ledge
Stare at the sashaying clouds
Feeling a funk in favonian design

I can only imagine
All the people living life in peace
and THAT is the problem
(that are asked if we CAN imagine, dare we imagine world peace running smooth like a pageant)
and so, the (truth, empowerment, belief) pushed aside:
remains the root of the rotting tree of lies
that we can only imagine peace, not work toward it piece by piece

so so so, so what?
well this mentality
Makes me despise
Every assuaging disguise
Fed to me, chalkboarded to me, engraved in me, stared at me

Monster under my bed: complacency
-- silent acquiescence whose roar is a stealth snore

Dragon in my closet: ignorance
-- hangin’ up to cloak depth, awareness to detail

Rotting here
In a sweat shop shirt
From another ambulance shredding my
Brain like a white piece of paper
Rotting here
Rolled over one side of my heart molds
An opening let in cool, clammy atmosphere
Gray fuzzy fungi fester-appears
And I fear fear fear
These words go from

Clouds to pavement
Splish splash drizzle drips
Do puddles
Muddling thru fact and fiction
Don’t like dramatic diction

Life
Beyond conflagrating conflict friction
Is fiction
If we believe that

All we are saying is give peace a chance
But if we don’t believe it has a chance
Then theres no chance itll get that chance

give choice a chance
brain halves parted
heart bloated, farted, carted
into clarity, lucidity like spring air
Midwest morning dew atmosf-air

Open minds open air
Do not despair, you tell me with a concerned stare
I step back from the tide you wash up on my shore
I implore the heavens


I question

therefore

I write

therefore

I breathe

therefore

I am

POG-- Grand

land of Grand

perdon-eh-mwah

could you tell haw
ahem, ahem
how
one gets down up down Grand

how one traverses Grand?
let me count the ways...

holding a lovers hand, smiling,
quibbling, scribbling memories on the heart's skin

scolding a runny nose child
desperately daring to be wacky, wobbly wild

waiting for a 70 bus to civic station
no matter the occupation or to water tower no matter the hour

taking the 70 bus, imbibing crazies, smokies, lazies, workies
digesting segregation like a plant root
choking on judgments

driving a car with the radio on
singing head bobbing in another world

walking with a cigarette in hand
thinking, rhyming lines of life to understand

running, scrambling like eggs on high
heat, feet in a fleet to greet work on time

begging, asking for money, change
bus fare, what can you spare, (do you care)

catching every red light, swearing
or rolling under red lights, swearing

looking out the window, over your shoulder
broken brick or a new RFT restaurant pick

observing, permitting the side walk cracks
to swallow you up

standing back up, brushing off,
get up with a cough and alls not lost
at all

just stumbling, swearin, bus fare-in,
money sharin, rhyme carin, music blarin,
mommas eyes starin, lovers pairin
bus waiters glairin,
all people goin like wind, time, rusty wheel rhymes

this is the Grand design
to which st. louis sojurners consign