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Praga Połnoc

There are those who chase dreams,

imaginings of what could be.

~

There are some who chase shadows,

afterthoughts of sunlight’s sheen.

~

Then there are those who chase fantasies,

things that don’t exist and could never be.


To those who chase dreams,

remember to savor your reality.

~

To those who chase shadows,

don’t be afraid to cast your own.


To those who chase fantasies,

beware that what you seek to see

~

is not the truth, nor does it live

more than skin deep.

~

Your grasping hands may loathe to find,

that fantasies exist only in the mind.

Sierpień, 2015
Praga, PL

Wina

Some people

blame others for

their unhappiness

_

and still more

harbor spite for those

who do not suffer

_

as they have suffered.

_

Some people

want to see smiles

become invisible

_

and still more

cannot reconcile

joy with all of the

_

sadness in the world.

_

And then there are

those who watch the

world in anguish

_

and wish anguish

on the oblivious

only to weep with regret

_

when a tear finally falls

down the face of an innocent.

Sierpień, 2015
Warszawa, Polska

Atonement

Do dolphins ever get to

say I’m sorry

for slicing water harshly

as they play?

_

Does the wave ever get

to apologize

for slapping the sand

as it crashes?

_

Does the sky ever get to

express regret

for making the clouds cry

as it rains?

_

Do we ever get to

make amends

to those we hurt

as we grow?

Los Angeles, CA.
2015

Cloud Deep

What if the drizzle

was a storm instead?

_

What if the sun

failed to rise up ahead?

_

What if my plane

never left the tarmac?

_

What if I never left

where you were at?

What if home

never changed its meaning?

What if my heart

didn’t demand my leaving?

_

“What if” is such

a fruitless heartache.

_

What if I left my “what if”s

for the clouds to take?

In the Clouds, USA
April, 2015

Peace

Peace is the feeling of

sunshine and sand.

_

Peace is the kiss of

seaweed and saltwater.

_

Peace is the sigh of

a sandcastle hit by waves…

_

it knows the sea was

meant to ensnare it.

_

And even if the sand takes

a different form,

_

the sand knows it will be

reborn more beautiful.

_

This is peace.

Santa Monica, CA
April, 2015

Skin

It’s an interesting thing,

this identity-

when deciding what amount

of what blood’s enough.

Cuz when you move around,

the battle lines shift,

and what was once your salvation

becomes your conviction.

_

Yeah, it’s a tricky thing,

living in this skin,

and working really hard,

to set the example

so others don’t struggle

with the demons I grapple.

_

But when a 14 year-old girl

denies her truth,

casts aside who she is

so that she can fit in,

feel accepted in her society,

what she perceives as her reality-

the truth of what beauty is,

of what the face of success is.

But where is the humanity,

what is our reality like,

when a 14 year-old girl sighs

“I’m not black, no I’m not.

Maybe on the outside,

but not inside…”?

What does that mean,

when a young girl denies

the sheen of her skin?

_

And what do I say

so that she rejects,

her own self-rejection,

and instead rejects

the conditioning of her perception,

the brainwashing that’s taught her

that she isn’t beautiful,

or her skin color’s not right?

_

How can I make a case,

against the value we place on race,

when I fight the same war

inside my own soul?

When I know what it’s like

to feel your skin isn’t right,

or maybe it’s your hair,

or the tilt of your eyes?

_

How can I teach the truth

of self acceptance,

when I fight my own insides

to fit what’s outside?

When I know what it’s like

to have one side of you

be marked as the enemy

or have half of your reality

justify

the other half of your existence?

_

How do I mask the fact

that I’d be lying

if I said no one cares

what you look like

or what your background is

when most of my upbringing

has been not fitting in?

Or maybe everyone feels this way,

I don’t really know.

_

But I know this girl-child’s

special and beautiful

and shouldn’t deny who she is

so she can fit in,

or fall into a mold

of what what she is told

is the model of propriety

in this skewed society.

See, as a teacher, it can be quite hard

to teach young people to stand tall

and love who they are.

Cuz everyday you’re on a stage,

heart and soul exposed.

So, what happens when

what a child says

hits too close to home?

_

When the memories wash over

of people you love telling you,

or alluding, that this side’s

too cheap, too traditional,

too sleazy, too shallow-

that your color is perfect,

but the betrayal’s in your accent.

That your hair is just right,

but the Mexican side isn’t decent,

or because you don’t fall

into one or the other,

you’re not enough of anything,

not quite worth marrying.

“You have no morals, no culture

no history.”

_

How do you hide the truth

of this experience?

And how do you deny,

that it still eats you alive

and often you hide

or avoid getting too close

so that you don’t let them know

that your purity’s low,

or maybe its your self-esteem?

_

So you see, the challenge I mean?

So I’m silent, and I kick

myself

for not combatting her sigh,

her denial of self,

for not demanding that

she love the skin

that she finds herself in,

so the demons in her mind

dont squash her ability to thrive.

_

There’s always tomorrow

where again I will try

to speak my unspeakable

and teach her to love

who she is all the more

because of her skin,

and the depth of her heart.

_

The lines will always shift,

and it’s impossible to sift

through the maze

of identity,

especially if your looking to fit

into someone else’s reality,

or idea of normality.

Send the soldiers home,

let the demons know,

that the only truth here

is the truth of your soul.

New York, NY
May, 2015

Consider


Enter upon our shores,

heal your wounds

put balm on your tender sores.

Take advantage of the boons

of your new country.

Shed the skin

of where you’re from,

give up your old identity,

_

because here, the only thing to do,

is cover your ears, shut your eyes

as your painted red, white and blue.

_

Any doubts inside your mind,

set them aside.

Contemplate the truth

of the opportunity granted to you.

Don’t question the zeitgeist

of a market economy,

because wearing this flag

is as good as it’s gonna be.

_

Your people, they’re savages,

backwards and traditional,

they don’t perceive materialism

as the pinnacle

of life’s purpose and all

_

the world is inferior,

because they lack our wealth

in their borders interior.

The irony is, we exploit the health

and resources of home country,

taking their goods and making money,

and we lure the most talented

out of their homes,

making the smartest reject their own,

robbing homeland of the educated,

making it easy to see what we want

and just take it.

And the immigrants, well they’re just patriots now,

they don’t care how,

the clothes on their backs

come at the cost of violent attacks.

They forget that grandma’s village is dead and gone,

because of a drone, sent by your new home.

 _

But sure, stand up and

wave your flag,

send your sons to battle

in a war you don’t understand

 _

Pray to God and thank

your lucky stars

that your so far

from that place that you left,

linking current tragedy

to those “others” you see on t.v.

and you forget to consider

that the media’s built to belittle

and elevate the mental state

of those in between

Sea to shining Sea,

dubbing the outside

as the enemy.

_

But wait, hold on a second,

Isn’t this a country of immigrants?

Oh no, we don’t celebrate difference.

We think that because our skin color’s different,

we accept the world with benevolence.

But let’s be real,

In one generation we all but feel

the same,

 _

painted internally,

in the colors of country.

Don’t get me wrong,

this isn’t a problem,

until we stop caring

for anyone else,

thinking that

this charade will last,

we continue to blast

the poor of the world

exploiting through war,

filling our cars

with the liquid of tanks,

which fuel the banks

that fund world’s hate

and greed.

_

You see, what we need,

is to reclaim identity,

or reconsider it.

Because what does it mean

if you bleed

red, white and blue

when all you consider

is what happens to you?

Ignore the agenda

of profits

and forget to remember

where you came from,

let your morals come undone

and plant more seeds

of inequality,

not just here but

around the world.

See you have no right,

because remember,

_

someone you know

walked off a boat

looking for a better life.

But perhaps, just maybe,

the life that was left

was a life that was created

by the very same people who

keep your thirst for money satiated.

False appearances, false promises,

reality, carefully constructed.

 _

So, if you’re here,

be grateful dear,

but don’t sit back compliant.

Don’t close your eyes,

don’t close your ears.

Sharpen your tongue

and refresh your memory,

brush up on your history,

don’t shed your identity,

to take up what’s popular on the tele.

 _

In fact, grip tight

To the world you came from,

let their pain be fuel on which you run

to make some noise

and change the tide

for those we exploit.

 _

So, if you’re gonna take up

the red, white and blue,

don’t just sit and worry

about what happens to you,

because your actions

have widespread reactions

and the balance of power

won’t last forever.

 _

The Devil’s got a special place

in hell for complacent sinners.

So take a second,

Reconsider.

The balance of power,

Won’t last forever.

In the sky between LA and NYC
April, 2015

Distress

 

How do I impress,

how much I was blessed

for the moments we digressed

in the dueling matches,

in our verbal practice

of heated conversation

and pointed contemplation?

_

How do I express

all the truth

that you spoke to me

as we sat beneath the trees

in a far away country?

How you showed to me

this mean world

by forcing me to see.

Tearing down the myths

and the histories

fed to me

by those that disadvantage me,

the people who teach

the people who preach

all that they want to me.

_

How can I express what your truth

really means to me?

How you took my heart and

pointed it at the world’s brutality.

Opened up my eyes

to all of the lies,

all the stories spun

to denounce Truth’s cries,

to this country’s

bankrupt ideology,

tearing up the globe

symbolically

and solidly too.

Showed to me

the distinct stupidity

of a people hooked to what they learn

from a show on MTV

then claim to be

the bastion of civility

of Democracy

of positivity.

_

Yes you demanded of me

to consider how

a people who love freedom

take their poor and their weak

and keep them in slavery.

Say what you want to me,

but we’ve lost our morality,

Obamacare, yes I swear,

we are great at pretending

that we’re actually sending

help to those who need it

but how can’t you see it?

We make life real convenient,

to those we want compliant,

we don’t want them defiant,

so we grant them salvation

without an education,

and then blame Democrats

for “wasting” our tax,

but they’re right,

it’s all a game,

but we call it the wrong name,

blaming the poor,

for the way that power

sets the score.

Distracting and taxing,

real good at acting,

like they’re looking out for the good

of the kids out in the hood,

when in fact,

they play this tact

to ensure

that people stay,

just the way they are

so they can put the profits away.

_

How do I express

my thanks and the humility

I feel due to the honesty

in which you spoke to me?

Because in reality

so many lack the ability

to see the world

as it is in actuality.

They walk through the world

unaware of how it turns,

ignorant to the burns

that streak omitted history,

the stories they don’t wish to see,

they’re living so comfortably

valuing not faith or family,

but bowing instead

to the tyranny of making money,

bereft of the knowledge

and the education

that would ultimately

break the indoctrination,

unleash a new creation,

reveal the hypocrisy

of a world that’s set up to be

in favor of the royalty.

_

How do I express to you

all of my gratitude

for coming into my world

and turning it upside down,

taking my head and spinning it around,

slapping off the chains

of a rosy disposition

granted to me

by my Western traditions?

You removed the blindfold

that had taken ahold

of my heart and my soul,

making me believe

that I’m really truly free

when in fact its a myth,

this true Democracy,

when the game is fixed,

a crooked society,

they’ve got us all tricked,

I’m unleashing my sobriety

cuz the truth it’s got me ticked,

your no longer gonna lie to me.

_

So now I will express

the depth of my distress

as I look around and see

the truth that you taught me.

Only some of us

are taught to read

are taught to write, properly.

The rest are left,

in the streets

without someone real

to call their Teach,

Say what you want to me,

but send to me,

a 16 year old who hasn’t been taught

how to read?

No, that is just,

ludicrousy.

They say ignorance is bliss,

but I would be remiss

if I didn’t recognize

that ignorance is the prize

that is planted in our eyes,

confidently,

deliberately.

Thank you for clear eyes.

Thank you for the truth.

April, 2015
Los Angeles, CA

Hunting

Photo on 4-4-15 at 10.46 AM

Hunting

One day I went hunting,

for something I couldn’t name.

I looked within the gardens

of palaces and dreams.

_

One day I went looking,

in places I shouldn’t go.

I looked within the catacombs

of empires and thrones.

_

One day I went searching

in villages and mosques.

I looked inside the hopelessness

of people who were lost.

_

Once I would go hunting,

inside people’s hearts.

I looked within their fears,

and studied all their faults.

_

One day I discovered,

like Franklin and his bulb,

that what I was hunting for

was deep within my soul.

_

April, 2015
Los Angeles, CA.