Sweaty Palms

Cascading vulnerability into sweaty palms
You admire this, why?
Generations of abuse making ineffectual barriers
A clan of farmers turned into a klan of harmers
Lashing out at darkened flesh while they macerate their own
Generational poverty and how many generations?
All of them, all of them, but cut off from the soil what truth do we know?
Alcoholism, suicide
We say ride or die and choose to die
Are forced to die
And we blame it on everyone but those responsible
Who suckle on the milk of our hatred
Gotta feed the system

You admire this, why?
In the death throes of family history I’ve forgotten how to lie
Sorry for the sweaty palms

Sing to Me

Sing to me, oh Muse
Whisper to me words that carry Truth like the smell of fire
On the wind
Let linger on my tongue that golden honey
Obscure my vision with salacious dances that make the profane holy
Caress my skin and let me feel
Let me feel
Let me feel
Once, once, once more
Burn away indecision, trepidation, and doubt
Make bricks from the ashes and build a new house


She does not weep anymore
Not for lacking compassion
But because we do
The compassionless are not moved by tears
The compassionless are not moved by lamentation.
Hardened hearts remain hard
Yet in our rage against injustice she whispers
Yet in our crusade against the hatred she whispers
Yet in our anguish for the victims she whispers
“Be soft”