Forgotten pages and

souls wonder and

wander wondering

what could have

been?

Instead what is 

gets swept 

under the ugly

rug of a family

skeleton closet.

Cradles never 

rocked.

Spanish language poems

fill the hallways of

a once empty mind,

and Gil Scot Heron

is not forgotten.

Who says a white

man can’t jump

or rap except 

the white man himself?

White is a meaningless 

word to those who live

in feigned ignorant

bliss.

And family is a meaningless

idea to the bitter

pessimistic or homophobic.

Judgement is not

for got, but the toys

he made in his image.

And the nauseating

churn of the stomach

of a narcotic inferno.

And the man on the

soapbox is now the

geek on the

scene.

And the crazy need 

to have the politicians

abstaining blame,

said the sarcastic

scornful slouch.

Who did nothing but 

fight for the wrong 

side except

everyone?

Who feels they are at fault except

everyone?

For these

are those and those 

are this and this

is thus.

Those living in such

an angry incontinent

and the rags

within them have

been scoffed and

put into preferential

spaces.

As the sun scortches

in its unpleasant

manner, and only those

unburnt skin can live

in such a manner.

It is only fair that

such a mind and

its counters be given

their time, their place

and their manner.

They can easily be ready

to assemble and diverge

upon a scene that

was long forgotten

until scortching hot pop culture

references

bleed out onto the 

masses repetative

nonsense and hunger.

A hunger whose actions

are not to be accounted

for with such minds

in constant races

for retribution and action can only be

met by nonaction.

Ghandi would be disgraced

to see such faces and

voices in commercials

and liberal guilt is at 

an all time low.

But crime and poverty

are issues put onto

the back burner as 

a day long gone is

gone ungone

but forgotten.

Souls are blinded 

only to be ungrateful

and ignore their

power for something

more expensive.

No one sheds a tear.

1/22/11