Hate Speak

http://www.newsweek.com/donald-trump-speak-anti-lgbt-hate-groups-annual-event-first-president

I saw the kiss by Michael Sam..
It made me mad–he kissed a man!

That’s something I don’t want to see
It’s wrong, unnatural, and it’s not just me.

Many now say, “Homosexuality is OK.”
But God says there’s a better way.

He made men for women, and women for men.
So why are “gays” so prideful then?

Please, no public same-sex kisses, Michael Sam.
We don’t want to see this man-on-man! […]

I do not mean to pick a fight
When I say most Blacks don’t think homosexuality’s a “civil right.”

Far from a “right,” Michael. In fact, it’s wrong.
Must I put this in a song?

Michael shot back: “Not wrong at all, it’s who I am!
“I’m gay. My name is Michael Sam.”

“God made me black and blessed me with gayness.”
Blessed you?! Then why are so many diseases linked to “sex” in the anus?

No, God made you black–not ‘gay,’” said I.
“You’ve chosen to believe a lie!”

You can’t change your skin color, that’s a fact.
But homosexuality? That’s only an act.

peter labarbera

 

living is easy

no red wall.

no red button free-fall.

lives mattered without malice

without protocol

all lived by what appeared to be simple means

ranches, capes, basic joists

dreaming the American dream

nothing trite about what we understood

we had more than most

most did not give would they could

saving the earth by way of the dime bag

no pale ale

just bong hits and bonfires

redemption found when a dollar had been given

on Sundays as a basket passed

too young to understand Nixon

old enough to mourn John

we were discovering Lady Chatterlay’s Lover

our bodies were ourselves

living among bathtub Mary’s and American flags on the front lawn

set in stones that were thrown

‘you were right…or, you were wrong’

i can remember hearing of Elvis

where he was

how he had been found

to my young mind i pondered…

‘how quickly life can be upstaged without a sound’

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Master Trump

Appalled!  Embarrassed.  Ashamed.  American.  There should be no doubt that Donald Trump, who I refuse to call, President; Has every intention of provoking a master race for himself.  And, himself only!

First, the poor, than the…uninsured or those lacking good insurance, the arts, veterans, meals on wheels, those searching the truth…etc., etc.

If the American people are not watching closely and take their eyes off the ball; The one empowered will be the more so… powerful.  The ‘masters’ of the human race.

“It is always a great honor to be so nicely complimented by a man so highly respected within his own country and beyond,” Trump said in a statement. “I have always felt that Russia and the United States should be able to work well with each other towards defeating terrorism and restoring world peace, not to mention trade and all of the other benefits derived from mutual respect.”

 

Good intentions will always be pleaded for every assumption of authority. … It is hardly too strong to say that the Constitution was made to guard the people against the dangers of good intention. … There are men in all ages who mean to govern well, but they mean to govern. They promise to be good masters, but they mean to be masters.

Prolific Down at the Falls

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Black and white images stream across yesterday…at today’s falls.

Profiles of cremated plots of Jiffy Pop.

And, with a splash, ‘not now’.

All in an instant, all in the wordy watered down words.

Thus, I ponder, why are these memories your’s to take?

Like a broken toilet handle…refusing to flush.

There is nothing like the taste of being…sour.

On this, the half past hour.

An, ‘I see you…’ on random country stores.

Black and white transformed into the derelict poor.

Prolific Falls…where do we go.

Prolific Falls, meant to be searched when solo.

When I had been young,

I learned to swim with a push.

When I had been young,

I learned to drive in a jam.

Sink and swim and hold on tight.

Tart and tangy memories in black and white.

Akin to a Melting Pot

 

Are we the first?  Is New Hampshire as…un-diverse…as many critics say?  If so, is that significant?  And, what of our ancestors?  How the hell do those naysayers think we ended up in this land…north of a frigid witch’s tit?

In my own family, up until the mid 1990’s, I had not been told about my own exclusivity on ‘being in the minority.’

My grandmother, who had been often referred to as, the dumb Pollock!  My father who deliberately and without forethought, distinguished Native Americans as, drunks, lazy and no good!

Funny, in the midst of my confusion of being gay.  Ironic, standing in the land of women ‘should be seen and not heard.’  Strange…with all these supposed, bloodline infirmities, I had not been told the following:

My grandmother in actuality was Polish and Russian!  Something she had been too ashamed to share until much later in her life.  My father?  Well, it wasn’t until I became a fully pledged addict that he stated,

“It isn’t so surprising.  Her being an alcoholic.  Indians are known for their love of drugs!”

Course, it just so happened my paternal grandmother, who died of complications due to hard living…was half Cherokee.

Needless to say, there I stood in the depths of minority.  An addict, a woman, a lesbian, part Russian, part Native American!

This is not about politics.  It isn’t even related to living in the minority.  Perhaps, it is quite the opposite.

The ‘melting pot‘:

Multicultural surrounding where all the different cultures slowly become more uniformed generation after generation by adopting bits and pieces of other cultures and giving away some of their own traditions.

Melting pots…had been something that encouraged me to be different.  To seek the unique.  To be proud of the idea..we all didn’t row over to America at the same time or on the same boat.  That each and everyone one of us…who proudly calls themselves, Americans, looked for a better life.

In that manner, I am no different from my adopted dogs.  Both mongrels.  Each of them quietly called, Heinz 57’s!  A collaborative mixture of everything they ever were…and, everything they will ever be.

 

…funny I think we were on the same boat back in 1694

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If we stare hard enough in these, the inhuman winds; we shall find we are all akin.
If we stare hard enough in these, the inhuman winds; we shall find we are all akin.