I am what Hitler called the Jews
I am what rich whites called their slaves
I am what the wealthy calls the homeless
I am what Europeans called Native Americans
...
My friend wasn’t voting
I asked him why
He said because “it isn’t cool”
I stared back stunned
...
I have taken you for granted soil! Wasn’t it soil that Sherlock Holmes pointed to and used to correctly deduct where his client had been? Wasn’t it the heartbeat of the Earth that Esperanza managed to hear once she allowed herself to focus away from the moving clouds and onto the stable Earth? Isn’t it your processes and rock formations that we use to study to foresee the future, understand where we were, and where we are going?
I know dear Earth that all too often people lay on you and ignore you to watch fireworks. That’s the way we are sometimes. We relay on what supports us to enjoy a fleeting show that only pollutes the thing that gives us life. And in this effect we ignore that which lays beneath us but that we forever depend on.
...
I Will Write
I really love people
but maybe that is because
my main interaction with people is through books.
How beautiful people are through books
The words bring life even if the real person falls flat.
Maybe it’s because to be writer requires empathy –
to write the details others would miss.
To be a writer is to kill apathy.
Sometimes I wonder if people who don’t read are yet living.
How can anyone spend a meaningful day not reading?
Books are what kept me alive
They alone were the only thing that gave me faith in humanity.
I have to write again, I have to do art again.
I have to do
So that I can be – So that I can fully exist
I have to create so that I can become
Until my liberties are forced out of my hands
And I am stripped of my dignity.
Until my hands are tied behind my back
And my head held against the soil
And I am spit at and told I am worthless.
I. Will. Write.
I will continue to create because I am worth something damn it.
Sin always feels good in the beginning but then you're left with what it really is - emptiness
For me there is no writing what I don't know. I can only write what I know and ponder what it all means.
We will never bridge the gap between perception and reality.