as the sun stood
still at noon
in solar silence
seething through
a hot copper sky

as mozart played
requiem dies irae
in d-minor

as a raging hail of fire
descended

we all looked up
frozen

in fearful recognition  
of the
end

ayo

~ P

where once we felt and looked the same
sharing a house on memory lane.
there in the glass we stared with pride
at flawless skin and clueless eyes.

we conquered hills and soaring trees
with nimble limbs and stable knees.
we hopped and skipped and ran the streets;
no bills to pay, no ends to meet.

though father time pulled us apart,
you kept the light inside my heart.
to guide me through the twilight years
in this old house that we both share.

these nagging knees now often speak.
this weathered roof now often weeps.
but this old house will always be
a treasured home for you and me.

Ayo!

~ P

he knows not
yet speaks loudly,
proudly flaunting
his knowsnotness to the world
as if it were some regal virtue
worthy of praise and reverence,
not verbal manure
so malodorous
it smothers us all
in mind-shrinking flatulence.

~ P

these eyes are your window to the truth.
they empower you with vision
and help you filter details
like color, facts and lies
to better process
and navigate
the chaos
in your
world.

~ P

there will be faces along the way,
of strangers wearing smiles and caring eyes
standing in the rain
with rays of light and kindness.

they are your crossing guards;
the anointed beacons of your life
waiting on the corner
of preparation and opportunity.
they will know you did the work.
they will see beyond barriers
of race and class and gender.
they will hold your hand
and guide you through
the raging storms of bias and misogyny,
to the place you were destined to be...

before you were born.

AYO!

~ P

go back into the ashes
of gifted souls,
legends long gone
from the finer arts of life.
there you shall find
gems of inspiration
buried

alive
in virtual urns of eternity
like Vimeo and YouTube.
you will laugh and cry and share
and dare to be
a better version of you
less consumed by the secular
more in tune with self, spirit
and sacred calling;
and fill your virtual urn
with a blessing
or two.

AYO!

~P

eyes blackened by a darker tint of blue
a neoliberal haze of masses on the left
who fall in line
every time
since that civil bill
stained in the blood of messiahs
gave us hope
two centuries long

black lifeless limbs may
no longer swing in southern winds
like strange fruit

black conscious themes may
no longer scorch the status quo
like burning michellins in Soweto

black inspired voices may
no longer sing battle hymns
that stirred huddled masses
to march and fight and die
for equal rights
over the bridge

but these teeming shores still reek
with hate and inequality
by race

and the golden door remains closed
to wretched masses
black and brown

yet we vote
blue or red.

AYO!

~ P