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     A late fall morningI looked outside,birds were dying,some lying in my grassothers in and nearthe shallows.          *
  listened into the conch of his eyes underneath convergence of contrail planes - woeful notes of a dirge glided  downwind allayed in nosegays of wild flowers  
What is it like to be a Brown, Indigenous Christian It’s build that wall or you can’t be conservative Their judgement is normative To be a democrat you can’t have your own opinions
It slowly starts slithering its way through the land of corn creating a momentum of fire as it rises, stretching its wings word for word It becomes difficult for the mouth to catch up to the rhythm of my tongue
Degrated, ashamed, beaten down. This could have leveled many.  Building a stonger self, leading the next generation.  Embodying the strong, indigenous, resiliency.  Survival is in our DNA.  Make the change. 
Armies of men fall at the feet of Beauty, and we're taught that women are weak.   Men watch their brothers transform into monsters, and we're taught that real men don't cry.  
My slam coaches and judges tell me That I mumble too much   Something about how I speak when I’m on stage I have this almost drawl
  Poetry, Poetry, Poetry I become the words on the page The words that cling on to my chapped lips are now seen They are now heard through
Women in the Web by Kari Barge   Things have changed We may not be burned at the stake But we are forced to fake…
There was a man who ventured off to pillage and to rape Gluttons had consumed their home though they left not to escape Greeted on the shore by people he called lovely
My breath releases cosmic realities, dances with our collective senses. My feet sweep across the skin of Mother Earthas my back is caressed by the songs of Father Sun.
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