Note To Self


When the message becomes the means the master will remain supreme

When visions emancipate themselves from dreams 

Freedom eventually welcomes its slavery to the sight of things

Crowns thus get past down to conformity whom graciously chooses normalcy as its queen 

Birthing the present presenting the world with an unholy trinity to take the lead  

Leaving leagues of people to nostalgically use old efforts to shed new lights on things 


Forgetting that history doesn’t simply repeat, but instead parallels itself with close reflection 

A string theorist heaven

We’ve created a paradise for purgatory souls holding on to old rhetoric to avoid belief that their lack of progression leaves them hell bent 

The lingering scents of spiritual indecision leave men, women, and children with contact highs of revolution incomparable to any marijuana hit  

When you march Martin into the margins of your comfortability here is what you get 


Masses who see mashing of concrete beneath rubber soles as dynamite when it is merely the matchstick

We are blowing the bugle as if that is the revelation in action

This logic is like equating ones birth to mere contractions

Simple science of cause and effect has now lost logic and been repackaged as magic 

In a nation that was born by tearing away from its own umbilical chord, how is it that we continue the frivolous efforts of asking

The blueprint is stained in red, but you have only read the Rated G version in your classes

Where martyrs are painted as sweet symbols of hope instead of stair steps through the madness

Where scripture isn't taught yet we learn to multiply faith while dividing its reflection of work into fractions

We've champion the word try for so long that Icarus has become the poster child for or actions


Until the roots of our oppression are excavated Lady Liberty will follow after her mother Eve and gleefully continue to eat the apple

New day lynch mobs covered in blue garb and badges are only a microcosm of jurors whom supposedly represent the collective thoughts of the masses

Appearing to only respect perceptive power and fear, but use the face of racism to mask it

I cannot march in response to a gestapo regime and remain sleep to the circumstances that enable a task force to justifiably play the watch dog over our families

I do not have the answers 

But I show great reproach towards any approach that is overtly passive

Battles are fought on many fronts but no matter the stage we must be willing to expect the best while confronting the worst that could happen 

This poem is about: 
My community


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