brady max

Loading...
There was an error in this gadget

Saturday, December 3, 2016

soul murder



soul murder 

listen, 
banging on the back door 
files of despairing dead arrive
flies flapping in swirls of night
damning anatomy of soul murder rises -
screeching, souls pulled over razor pointed
heinous history, burned, beaten, shot, stabbed, 
water hosed, dog-ravaged, hanged from trees, 
dragged behind cars, left to die on wire fencing, 
our myriad murders, our unprotected heroes -of 
then, now ripped in hellish heave backward again, 
screeching in righteous recrimination draw messages
in their crusted blood spilled for naught,here they are 
pulled from places of rest, leaning in exhausted  agony - 
these resurrected, recriminating warriors of past struggles 
won-now defeated long after the fact, faces of disgust  push 
patterns of themselves through the net of the creaky screen door -
come to shake their heads, eyes deep-dark in agony of our betrayal 
our permitting this 
racism reload - 
reinvigorated and 
balloted as normal 
embracing the dark
seeking spirits to 
destroy 
listen,
learn
light,
fight
now




Saturday, November 19, 2016

We are coming




Just a little new perspective on where we are that I just jotted down - needs work but general idea - that truly turned the time around for me ... as much as I was disheartened by the recent turn of events and plans for the future based in part of exclusion and backward thinking .. I suddenly realized that this election has taught us that "hate" and sensationalism is more powerful than peace and plans for a better future and so we are now faced with a stellar group of throwbacks who would cast this country backward prior to the civil rights movement and forward into an age of darkness and despair. Unless - we see that we have now been given an opportunity to do all the good we can for all the people we can for as long as we ALL can - together... for.....
💗💗
We are coming...

We were never meant to be the status quo -
trapped in Kevlar and cosmetics
kick the leather heels - free the sadistic squeeze
Let us rip the undergarments that bind, that cut our flesh -
Run fingers through hair and in shod ourselves in soft
sturdy shoes made for walking
walk the fields and mud and march the promenades -
shout with joyful unfettered glee
for we are united against each and every
outrage that falls across the way -
They have been gathered by a wise Universe
in one place - this unholy reunion of racism and restriction -
But we -
We - were never meant for the status quo -
We were meant for the wind
We were meant for mountains and seas and savannas -
city streets and sleepy suburbs -
We were meant always to ultimately leave the house -
Do not weep to leave the cold marble halls unto the appropriate agency - Leave it happily to the icy hands of men and some with empty eyes
the paper shufflers, the investigators, the writers of rules and restrictions, injunctions and investigations that even if passed, can no more be enforced than catching the wind in a glass jar -
Learn from our Native brethren and sisters the lessons they sang so long ago - the spirit cannot be sold nor overtaken.
Revel in the clustering of this minion of the old guard of flailing hatred
they stand together at the gate - let them be - we need them there
Let them keep on the lights so we can march -
babes in arms, young men striding aside -
unafraid, black, white, yellow, red - marching a convocation of old, young and all the in betweens -together in a chorus of polyglot symphonic celestial language -
We are moving as one - free from the "quo" -
changing the status of this now reborn land -
finally we are moving inextricably toward perfection -
Leave the lights on slave owners for we are coming
We are coming from each corner of this land to overturn each now exposed act of sneering contempt of constitution - written on parchment inscribed,
evolved illumated in the inextinguishable flame of our collective soul-
We are finally - as a people - springing from the loins of Mother Chaos -
born - free at last - fully formed from the collective of a billion teeming misdeeds, grievances, victories and eternal hopes and dreams -
We are the force of life
We are the force of love
We are the children and the creators invested with power cosmically past puny flailing fists -
We pour pity and power over hatred of ignorant impotent cloistered souls - Leave the lights on blazing in darkness now gathered -
We see you - easily - out from under sheets, unmasked, clapping in empty victory - grin your empty victory -
revel in ignorance that you are now finally exposed together arm in arm -
there you are in the bright light of justice - and...
we are coming .... U.S.A.
☀️☀️

Sunday, October 30, 2016

Master Class





Master Class

In the midst of the still - in the pause of busy
silken as tip of infant curl brushed bare breast
In the midst of the still - in the pause of busy
oil sliding melting remnant jot of jealous velvet
In the midst of the still - in the pause of busy
clinked-crystal pearlescent peal of single chime
in the cupped bowl
single silvery drop
echoing
light
listen
now


Sunday, October 23, 2016

The glory of a misplaced Monday



Author: alexis / Download




The glory of a misplaced Monday 


eyes still shut my mind runs
the day - adjusting the empty
spaces - searching the smile to
send as you leave - and you will
leave - off to the doings of your
happy day - leave me the emptied 
uncoupled hours ... I, scurry scratch
penciled-in pretend usefulness, 
rough-scatter-sketch meandering,
minuscule,  meaning ... and then ... 
though I do not by nature nor faith
nor temperament practice the 
falling to the knees of many 
I fall to my knees in grateful
supplication - uncurling - 
loosening - breathing -
with unclenched heart
opening - opening - 
to this glorious 
gifted Sunday
when you are
here with me
after all. 

Sunday, September 25, 2016

Submission


Submission 

at first light I will type the date, pat
my pounding chest with nibbled 
fingernails -as you glow taunting 
spent malevolent completeness
from behind the staring screen-
I will print a hard copy of you, hold 
the heft of you in my hands-rip you, 
shred you, burn you - and after - 
when you are reduced to a pot 
of ashes I will throw you 
to the wind over my garden - 
I shall rinse my burning face - 
in cool water-clear my mind of 
your mess and finally free -hit -
SUBMIT

Sunday, September 18, 2016

Unlikely Deplorable




Unlikely Deplorable

Damn I’m growing tired of deplorable
depressing my soul with a try to tamp
out the spark of light and hope and yet-
And yet, ain’t it something that deplorable
lights the fire to the straw, puts a spring in
our step and rushes us together - faces bright –
voices loud in righteous outrage - Standing together
without guise to smite the hatred deception, division
and oh the denial -Ah deplorable you unlikely champion –
I throw you in a basket over our shoulders and toss chunks
of you colored with the shimmering impenetrable dye of red,
white and shining blue… until those that would writhe
hatred around the flagpole – slither from their skins
dissolved.



Sunday, August 28, 2016

Bless me ...





Bless me  ....

As a little one I yearned for  a gentle hand to cup my head,
brush my cheek with parchment fingertips - to turn when I,
on small feet, did hurry toward -  to smile at my back when
I left -  Free then to cross the threshold 
to nibble at delights from the plate of the day -
sighing deep - safe under the count-
less protection of the bless that set
my unfolding fledgling soul to soar ....

Sunday, August 21, 2016

Omran est notre enfant


Omran est notre enfant
(Omran is our child) 

Oh Omran -I wipe the dusty
blood from your face with a
clean,cool, white cloth- gently 
rock you in my arms and soak
you in tears of guilt admission
When I saw you sitting there -
bewildered touching blood -
tousled hair - dusted with the ash
of adult hell unleashed in the name
of some cause or another - When I
saw you, my eyes scurried across
the page piteously scanning to see

if "we' or "they" were to blame - oh

Aleppo angel staring soul into soul -

stopping me with the searing shame

of all innocents. In your implacable

stare I knew as surely as if you had

pointed your bloodied fingers at me -

there is no we or they - All of us have
your blood on our hands as we scroll
screens and wipe newsprint - and sit, sit, sit -
within walls of our collective failed protectorate
We must stand - each and all of us - speak your
silence -until all children look to the sky expecting
only sunshine, raindrops,snowflakes-until all children
sleep secure- their unexploded world softly breathing -
I kiss your eyes with my bleeding heart and surrender
to the dust of all souls-including my own that contribute
to the reigns of terror - collapsing the sky your blood un-
washable from my hands-my heart -Oh Omran, abandoned
son of us all -We see you -See our shame writ in the tousled
bewildered innocence of blood that limns our legacy in the
dust of our collective immorality... "We? ... or "They?" there
is no difference in the emptiness of your disappointed stare.
It is on us all
the shame....
and solution
- peace. -

Saturday, August 13, 2016

Baby Boy


I loved you as they rubbed the slip-slime from your
body freshly slid from your travel from my womb
to world – sacred charge – I would stand before
a bullet for you – so powerful steel would bounce
softly against my milk filled breasts – Invincible – 
our bond inviolable – a brand set to burn burnished
into the epi-center of my soul, ignited by the sound 
of your first cry – Nothing could ever chip the solid
soul-bond birthed fresh in that tropic dawn –I felt it-
that inexplicable, actual, aching stretch of my heart -
as you tiny soul-mate set sail apart and part of me – 
forever in the brightest crook of my being. Or so
I led myself to deliciously trust in totality.
Erroneously – apparently – undeniably -
now, that you are grown, flown and gone
distant-detached-deadly 
cold 






Baby Boy


I loved you as they rubbed the slime from your
body freshly slid from your travel from my womb
to world – sacred charge – I would stand before
a bullet for you – so powerful steel would bounce
softly against my milk filled breasts – Invincible – 
our bond inviolable – a brand set to burn burnished
into the epi-center of my soul, ignited by the sound 
of your first cry – Nothing could ever chip the solid
soul-bond birthed fresh in that tropic dawn –I felt it-
that inexplicable, actual, aching stretch of my heart -
as you tiny soul-mate set sail apart and part of me – 
forever in the brightest crook of my being. Or so
I led myself to deliciously trust in totality.
Erroneously – apparently – undeniably -
now, that you are grown, flown and gone
distant-detached-deadly
cold