“We are the Flowers that Bloom”
We are the flowers that bloom
Behind the gate
Planted firmly
There should be no sorrow
At night they will close and open again
tomorrow.
Incredible they are brighter, bountiful, and
beautiful to share
In the Morning Glory of God’s care.
Not to be divided and conquered
Equal opportunity for the shrub
As in Genesis the beginning of God’s Love.
And this is America
Not all of sovereignty,
The home of the brave and certainly not the
free.
These flowers came from the ancestors of
Africa
Grown in a new and strange land
Chained and beaten
Slavery, bravery, and in graves
America is their home
401 years from 1619-2020
Many of our sons were not born in April 1992
The 28-year-old Rodney King riot and revolt
Mine was nearly six years old
Injustice continues
And the blooms are forlorn
To tell you about
Medgar, Malcolm, and Martin
Is not enough
Protect yourself
If someone bothers you, we are told
But you are not able to
For he may wear a badge
And the colors of black and blue
In the color of authority
Those flowers no longer grow and glean
In the Morning Glory
Another statistic,
Another story
The shrub is my son
The bud is my son
And so are countless others,
Someone’s uncle
Cousin,
Friend,
Neighbor,
Father or brother
He is not a criminal
But in this country
And like Ralph Ellison’s book
He is treated as invisible
Where does the flower grow now?
Where can it thrive?
Did you know that the flower is autistic
And stereotyped?
Has a hidden disability and a gentle giant to
be described
The flower grows and reaches to a new height
I don’t want to be a mother
Crying tears to heaven
For the rest of my life
Wondering who plucked my flower
And allowed him to die
Genesis is the beginning
God loves all
Protect my son
My Flower
My God
Word on the Street
Word on the street
is the discarded masks
on the road,
bike path,
or concrete.
It's festering COVID 19 in public.
And what about the city?
Increase the trash
receptacles on the street
corners! Instead of cluttering cross-
walks and side
walks!
The medical blue
issued brand box
from China and on the MTA
public transportation is all
too common now.
Please discard them
when finished safely
somehow. Littering
There's no excuse. Who
wants to see your yellows
or blues? A pity and not
so pretty as the colors
of daffodils, hydrangeas
in my neighborhood.
The global pandemic
is on the increase. Find a way
to rid of them on the discrete. A face
mask should not be touching
the tip or soles of my shoes.
These germ-filled items cannot exercise
social distancing on their own.
Who's responsible?
Yes, you.
Can you not afford
to clothes-pocket your mask?
Put it in a Ziploc
bag? Cannot be
bothered with a trash
disposal task?
Definitely that's not word
on the street. Have some respect
you
creep! Your decorum is:
Inexcusable.
Flagrant.
Filthy.
Forgetfulness.
Unacceptable.
And can be seen
with
yours and mine spectacles
Fireball Whiskey
Feeling the Red-Hot Wrigley's
chewing
gum in my mouth
Is the flame that won't burn out
because I want too cinnamon flavored.
Raise sand with words. The kind that cannot be
buried in the sand like an ostrich does its head.
Endangered species to me he is and eagerly I
speak with no regret. Enough to have the last word until their eyes blur with
grit and suffocation.
Black Male Autistic quiet! Your big bear
weighty man hands down!
Ask questions later and shoot first. Another
stereotype statistic: athletic criminal drug dealer and not a creative diligent
artist.
Look at him there's no cane, wheelchair, nor almond shaped eyes to prove he is
differently abled; but he's behaviorally perceived to become ballistic.
Law enforcement racist cowards behind the
uniform wearing badge, when will you realize
my son is not cowering prey to be hunted.
Water fueling may not cool or calm me
the red dragon of Fireball Whiskey
utterances spiced, flame breathing.
He is my only child, my Creative, Happy,
Righteous, Intriguing, Social Soul.
"Injustice anywhere is here is a threat
to justice everywhere" said MLK Jr.
I love
you to the moon and back,
Son.
Keep us as family Lord, him, us, & me.
Yearning to be together for infinity. He is
not a goldfish in a bowl in Amerikkka. It's 2024 and is he truly Free?
