P r a y e r s for Baltimore #BaltimoreRiots #poem #society #Baltimore #inequality

P r a y e r s for Baltimore

Give me a broom or a shovel
And I’ll walk with you, I don’t live in
Baltimore Maryland, but I’ve seen enough
Black teenagers shot this year, by police

I think Baltimore burns for a reason
It’s a crime Americans hardly demonstrate
Here in Montreal, we’d be on the
Streets every night, if this happened to us

We’re all slaves at one time or another
The white man did a lot of things
But racism has got to stop, in a freakin’
Melting pot, where I hear Spanish more than English

If Baltimore bleeds, I think it’s worth it
Boys in blue do it again and again
White cop shot another black teen
Say again, you mean to tell me again?

You bring in the army and line the streets with soldiers
There’ no restraint in it either way
If you don’t want rioters, clean up your act
Changing your culture, grow some equality

This American dream is a pitch of Wall Street
Fund some education, keep families together
Instead you spend on the military
Baltimore, we don’t need any more martyrs
The state of emergency is pretty clear.

Disinherited Europe

To Spain, Greece, France and Italy These decades are birds of passage The years overwhelm with Information, change, economy instability I hear the beat of the future Hang low in the dewy atmosphere With a beat of glowing snow I …

Sighs for Autumn Rain like Armageddon

When Autumn comes, the grasses
Will rot and die, like memories of haunted love
Gone wrong, like so many things in history
The past remains a dead closet of dreams
The stems of feathers too must die
Like the enchanted glowing of our hearts

That once were, now countless flowers bloom
Letting go to the colors at their cores
Their nectar and sap will not be studied
By scholars, only lovers in the present
The cold wind will moan on your white hairs

And I will breathe in that damp fragrance
Warming you with a kiss, if we still remain together
Ceaseless is the melody that distinguishes our lives
When Autumn comes, China’s silken quilt will be torn
America will stand in the rubble of its own demise

The standing grain, maybe it won’t sprout as always
We will go to the market like an impoverished farmer
But happiness will be locked behind iron gates
Our wallets will be seized by corporate thieves
We will not think of revolution then, that is for the young

We will attempt to live in harmony with the times
The rustling rain will hasten the early cold
When Autumn comes, maybe we will stand alone again
While children blithely rush through wind and rain
While geese fly hard and high with their wet wings
Will you still come to me in the lantern-lit night?

Photography Credits: http://browse.deviantart.com/art/The-Four-Seasons-Spring-73886187