Late, but Not Too Late...

I'm in a Hurry

You're in a Hurry

Always a Hurry

Just Hurry, Hurry!

Don this Suit, this Tie

Now this Pin, this Strap

Heil, Heel, Click, Click, Click

Inside, Outside: Tick;

Tick; Tick; how, we Hate

So Hurry, Hurry!

See Nothing, Really

Just Hurry, Hurry

They're calling All-in

Onto this Tread Mill

Waving at the Wheel

Phf! Wait, Wait, Not Yet!

Just Not Fully Dressed

As we Ascend Down

This Uphill Decline

Swallow Hard, Break Fast

"Swipe this Plastic now"

No, I've One More Thing!

Wait, Wait... I'll get My...

...Mental Glasses On...

The wall we create in our minds.

It's an invisible wall,

one that doesn't exist,

one that we gave life to,

much like

an imaginary friend.

And so it sits in our minds

and creates an illusion

a sinister feeling

of distance 

superiority

ego.

The ego, he thinks

that he's better

just look at the color of her skin

it's different from his.

Just look at her hair,

her culture,

her life.

It's different

and therefore;

it's wrong.

But you missed something.

Do you sense that soul?

It's the same as yours.

How about those inquisitive eyes?

Like looking in a mirror.

And that smile,

that love,

that heart,

it's one we all share,

one that can break down the wall

with 

one

kick.

Racism will end when aliens come down from the sky, or when SkyNet pushes the launch button, or when an ELE—super-volcano or meteorite—wipes out life on Earth.

It begs the question: Why we need such horrifying events to occur before we realize that...

WE ARE ALL THE SAME, GODDAMNIT.

We bleed red.

We need water.

We enjoy good food and drink.

We indulge when we can, though probably too often than we should, and in some cases not as often as we should.

We love coffee.

WE ALL LOVE OUR COFFEE, GODDAMNIT (and if you don't, that's perfectly fine... weirdo).

This is a call to action.

Whoever you are, whatever you do, whereever you may be.

Be kind.

Be considerate.

Be the good Samaritan in your life. Reach out. Accept your fellow man as your own brother or sister. We are but seven billion, the only species on our pale blue dot that can actually donate organs to each other. Doesn't that say something profound about our capacity to love?

If you've read this far. Thank you.

Now, go out there, and be the best human being you can.

You're welcome.

https://www.nasa.gov/jpl/voyager/pale-blue-dot-images-turn-25

Born on a plantation in the south

and into a world

that thought segregation was just

my great-grandmother

found her brother hanging in a tree

He was killed by the klan

The police had watched him be lynched

And yet did nothing

Justice never came

Born during the Great Depression

My grandmother

was taught to hate her brown skin

The white kids would point and laugh at her

all while calling her "darkie"

Over time she came to believe

that her brown skin made her ugly

She would refuse to wear makeup

because that was only for the pretty white girls

Born during the Civil Rights Movement

My mom would look out the window

only to see a burning cross

on the front lawn

All while the words of MLK

played on the t.v in the background

As my grandfather read a newspaper

about yet another unarmed black man

killed by the police.

In high school

Back when I was a freshman

I had a spanish teacher

who said my brown skin

made me worth less than a computer

All of these things are true

All of these things happened

And all because people hated our brown skin.

Dark

Light

Right in between

Pale

Brown

What does it matter?

If you're darker,

does that mean

you don't have feelings?

Does it make you better?

Cause you've got different pigmentation?

What does it matter?

If you're paler,

does it make you

more violent?

Does it make you dumber?

To a blind person, we are the same

Why should sight cause wars

when differences are what make us

human?

It is sewn into the fabric which built this nation.

Lives dangling from damaged and tangled thread,

Unable to break free.

While privilege shouts “free yourselves”

But the more they try,

The farther they fall,

The tighter the strings,

And the louder privileged screams.

Conquistadors. With flickering eyes and reaching hands. They see no rival even as they rise, elevated not by might, but by their own filth.

It matters not, for they have their Tenotchitlan. Their island of gold, a trophy kingdom. At what cost?--It matters not.

They lord their success back home. They build the New World into a giant. The French flock, the Swedes flock, the British flock, to find their own cities of gold. To flee what they have--what they have is no longer good enough. There must always be a frontier.

The natives know respect. The Europeans see naught but submission.

There is no more gold. The Swedes leave, the Dutch leave, the French leave. The British stay. The British will have their gold, bloodstained as it may be. Their gold is green and leafy, dug into hard Virginia earth by hands that aren't theirs. They crack the whip and dark backs bend in motion. Sweet, smoky scent marries with the clang of coin in pocket. A harmony. Dissonance is silenced. Anguish is silenced. Blackened, erased.

Why are we so long asleep?

Slowly, it creeps up,

The darkness that comes,

The ropes that are tied,

The hoods that are dawned,

The hate the occurs.

The people on the ground

Fearfully watch,

Waiting for what’s to come.

It comes with warnings,

But only those with glasses see,

Appearing seemingly out of nowhere

And coating our light

With a black silhouette.

Charlottesville, Barcelona

I can’t breathe! I can’t breathe!

The world is changed forever.

Then, the rays of hope come again.

Politicians denounce actions.

Activists come out with signs.

“We can do it! We can make it!”

The world begins to recover.

After what feels like years,

(But is actually hours)

The sun is back out again.

You are not the cause

Of a world of hate

You are not the sole target

Of a world of hate

Stop putting your race

Or your sex

Or your sexuality

Or your religion

As tags on your face

You do not get to represent

An entire group of people

Do not apologize

Or explain

Or get angry

On their behalf

Please try to refrain

Your race is part of your identity

But a race is not just you

And maybe say your name

Before you say your race

Take a good look at this world of wondrous creation.

This Garden of Eden we're all blessed to dwell in.

Advances in civilization in every great nation.

And inequality classes graded by the colour of skin.

The song of redemption by the artist Bob Marley,

Was it not heard and just fell on deaf ears,

The emotionally powerful speech by Martin Luther King,

Just how far have we come after all these long years.

So take a good look at this world of wondrous creation.

This Garden of Eden we're all blessed to dwell in.

Advances in civilization in every great nation.

Divided by religion and degraded by the colour of skin.