Po' Ethics: Collaboration.
Road Map To The Inevitable
When a group of writers decide to collab', shit loads of ideas all
go through their heads. As it did in this instance for Po'Ethics.
Rather than have one fixed direction for the topic, the idea was
just to write and see what came of it. There are four different
views in this piece. So take each one as it comes. Hope you
enjoy the piece.
Atticus
Paroxsym
Twixn
Brix
.
Pulling a ruffled road map
From a cracked compartment,
As my eyes fall to the tracked
Heart of our rot stained atlas
And paint the checked past
Paths with marble passions.
The last minutes tear picks up,
Starts running, baggage in hand
Along a rusted track of history.
With a damp thumb raised freely,
The traveling freak show rolls on.
Among the first row of seats
A heart falls beneath Southern comforts
As the eyes: New England fee
Pass the persecution from row to row.
Until finally my sorry ass lands
In the back section of freeman's hope.
Sat a tired line in a withered ear,
As her tongue quivered fears
Wrapped in Band-Aid layers of trust.
The back seats queer sarcophagus
Took each strand of loose future
Ideal and washed up mannequins
To whittle a drift wood dummy's nude
In Martin Luther King's noose of aspirations.
As Rosa Parks stepped lost
From my weary forehead, to collapse
In the last aisle of a derailed train of thought.
...
"And as I passed by the 7-11, he just looked at me-
he was such a dirty mexican"
Ignorance. Truthfully,
you could not even comprehend their pain and struggle in life.
Do you want him to apologize, turn away with closed eyes?
I'm not sorry little miss suburbanite with attitude,
How about some gratitude? I should be the one mad at you.
These "dirty mexicans", these "illegals", these "beaners" are me.
Latinos are workhorses, scapegoats, cleaners and the army.
Most of these immigrants come from withering and war torn lands,
How can they not gander, when they're the ones that decore your brands?
I'm no blind poet though, I can see that my people have faults,
stagnating in gangs, high school drop outs, and brainless assaults.
As the media looks at our demons and social problems,
I work hard alongside my people and learn how to solve them.
...
I’m tracking these woods native hearted
It never really mattered where I started…
I departed my house each day with lust
I thrust myself away from concrete with disgust
I trust that one day ill come to a stand still
My heart is opened but I never planed to fulfill
But this fear is instilled, human’s expand
Without question take land and shred it, consumer demand
This “city” life you live up in and seem to understand
Is the last strand for me… I look around and see hate
Heated debate, sedated humans, it’s all just broken fate
Still here I stand books in hand… eyes looking north
Once this beautiful world is all turned industrial
……………………………ill stop moving back and forth
...
Left for dead,
an A-Z of nothing but ingrediants to a bottle of Meth.
With tainted breath I smoke the butt of my cigarette,
choking back what's left, there's nothing left.. nothing.
A depth of punishing, rellenting for something.. or nothing.
The comforting sound of traffic screaching, to the sound
of brakes speaking in harsh tongue along the ground.
The wind grabs a hold of my soul but drops it,
instantly. . instead of carrying it away.
Euphoria wanted me to stay and deal with the shit
that once kept my life at bay.
My throat regurgitates, the bile of the last hour
overpowers my will, an ill man made to feel a coward.
A final sour thought, with photo's I bought..
and memoirs distraught, with more nightmares..
than dreams I caught,
I never could say that I ever did it my way.
ATTN:
A bum was found dead at the side of a highway.
