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
James J Jackson 