We grow great by dreams. We little men are not dreamers. We grow bold from the lingering stench of our rotting ancestors and prophecies on the backs of our eyelids. Our dreams must die while others you nourish and protect them; nurse them through bad days till they bring them to the sunshine and light which comes always when we who sincerely blind have passed away.

Woodrow Wilson, 28

Crack of sticks and slush of muck
The air’s too thick, can’t catch my breath
Hippos ride and control the tides
We walk and grind, walk and grind
And spiral toward the other side
Every opinion matters most
I long, eyes closed to see the coast

Hippos sticks spiral tide
Walk and grind, walk and grind

My son’s sweet voice goes disregarded
I breed indifference with every move
Glancing up, no more bombarded
The cat’s in the cradle with a tarnished spoon
One day I’ll do right by him
Will it come before the moon?

Hippos sticks spiral tide
Walk and grind, walk and grind

When the sun and the horizon cross
Mosquitos are drawn to the glowing box
Same time same place night after night
So far so close am I really lost
Take my hand, let’s make a right
Be one heart pumping into the night
Then startled in our bed I toss

Hippos sticks spiral tide
Walk and grind, walk and grind

The Son’s sweet voice goes disregarded
Oknus’ alter is where I feast
Malnourished tossing round in bed
Narcotic visions in my head
I’m sorry how fast you are to heal
Thank you for a rare warm meal

Hippos sticks spiral tide
Walk and grind, walk and grind

Bloody knees before thy shake
They weren’t unsure just a minute ago
Arrogant privileged white man gate
Now a ship tossed to and fro
Wrecked on the rock, when I noshow

Hippos sticks spiral tide
Walk and grind, walk and grind

The air’s too thick, can’t catch my breath
I’m dying can’t you read my mind
The race is won, there’s nothing left
My life is owned, my gain is death
The son calls out, he has me kept
Joy.

Indigenous immigrant and slave
Your heritage is made
Detox your hallucination of an unraked stage
Immigrant terrorists invade a land, set up shop and erase the home brand
It’s people, it’s culture, children corrupted
Sneak peek to 2020 the plan’s not interrupted
Owned people lost them, but couldn’t set them free
Jim Crow’s in the ground and the bastard still breathes
White boys in blue create black asphyxiation
Nuclear soil breeds socio-genetic modification
Perennial turned annual amid the tribulation
Now pass with me 100 and some change
Now we have strong voices signaling the same
I hear the chorus growing with deafening bass
A fire beat and lyrics, redefining pace
But earth’s stopped spinning, we float along in space
Always stuck, in this place, just before the dawn
The voices strong and many, backed by abundant action
So why is inequity still the main attraction?
Fair heirs inherit what we’ve “worked so hard” to fashion
High on pride, baked in mind, addicted to blind
No responsibility for action
Against what our families did many years ago
Flick stuck on repeat and we call it a new show
White boys in blue create black asphyxiation
We’ll be sprouting daises fore we get real traction
Indigenous immigrant and slave
Our histories were made, but our futures we retain.
It’s not enough.

A moment in time
A moment not mine
When reality hits
A wall so fine
I stand and gaze
At a new life twist
Of which I cant
Just get a grip
And at the blankets
Cant tug an tear
But of a dream
Ive become aware
And for that moment
Kicked in the chest
As God himself
Laughs in jest