Category: Present - BBYLUN

time travel

2/6/2017

Looking back the days feel like months
Moments stretched and pulled by despair
Loosening the threads,
Abusing the elasticity of the fabric,
Leaving the space limp
And elongated past the point of return

Sitting now I feel the moments gently pass
Time has become water down a stream
Or slipping through hands

we spend life
Pushing up our heels
Trying to match Time
Arms outstretched
Fingertips grazing the hem of his cloak
Fists closed grasping the air
We long for Time
As dogs long for their tails

Time, Escapes us with each breath
He runs ahead,
Or so it seems

Hidden in the mind,
We can find the key to Rewind the hands of time
Project ourselves into futures
But first we must shift through the manure
The stench of the past
Scrape the scum from our thoughts
Because it blocks the view
Cleanse so the sun can shine through
And soon we will find
there are ways to penetrate Time

ornaments

2/6/2017

Are we full yet?
Have we been filled to the brim,
With the rotting corpses of black bodies,
Whose lives were sucked from them,
By authoritative hands?
Has the last sneaker been lodged in our throats,
Or is it more we we can stand?

How many times does white supremacy,
Have to make itself evident before we believe it?
Maybe when white women and children,
Pull out the picnic baskets from their attics,
To sit beneath motionless black bodies,
Swaying from trees like ornaments,
As The scent of strange fruit cleanses their palettes.
When viral videos return to postcards we will see.

Then we will understand.
Revolution is sometimes written in the permanent ink of blood.
We have shared our due for far too long.
I'm talking Action
Marching is nice but it's passive
Spreading the word is good
But we need more to happen
Everyone waiting for the first person to move
That first person may have to be you

It's time for them to catch up.
They don't know pain.
Soulless people can't feel
But their pockets hurt
Do not finance the oppressors
And watch them burn.