About Heidi Lindemann Michael Perry

Heidi Lindemann and Michael Perry are Washington, DC, based activists. Together, they have taught meditation and Kriya Yoga at the Jung Society of Washington, DC, the Theosophical Society of DC and at the Kanyakumari Yoga and Ayurvedic Wellness Center in Milwaukee, WI.

Crossing

Crossing

Rose Petals on a bridge.

Where is the voice of “our” President?

Watching “the last crossing”

With 21st century technology 

Under conditions similar to a medieval pandemic

In death John Lewis is still crossing the Edmond Pettus Bridge 

And so must we all.

(Photo Credit 1: Al.com) (Photo Credit 2: WLRN)

Save the Bleach: Yudhiṣṭhira’s Insight

Save the Bleach: Yudhiṣṭhira’s Insight

“You don’t need to be in no hurry
You ain’t never really got to worry.
You don’t need to check on how you feel
Just keep repeating:“None of this is real.“

And if you’re sensing there’s something wrong
Well just remember It won’t be too long 
Before the Director cuts the scene

This ain’t really your life 
ain’t  really your life
ain’t  really your life…”

— Gil Scott Heron —


The New Age is an Old Lie

Old Colonial strategies neither die nor fade away
They are just rebranded and sent into virtually reality
And sold online to people too young 
To remember snake oil salesmen.

Or, broadcast out over Zoom 
To create 
Family of choice simulacra 
Resembling the opening of The Brady Bunch
A celebrated family 
That didn’t actually really exists either.

This Neo-Divide and conquer

If America becomes a Towering Inferno 
Don’t you realize That there are no ladders long enough to reach you 
On the 108th floor.
To save you from the burning 
If the lower floors are alight.

Will you sit in a circle and sing Kum ba yah?
(‘cause that’s not your song either)
Or perhaps chant the lyrics from Maureen McGovern disaster movie songs 
And hope it extinguishes the flames?

There’s Got to be A Morning After
And We Will Never Love this Way Again
But will we be here to love 
When the sun rises on America tomorrow?

The Ku Klux Klan no longer wears sheets 
1000 thread count Egyptian cotton is just too expensive
And it so much easier to just run for office.

Or cluster at seminars that teach the art of Hap-why-ness
Selling crystals 
Yoni eggs 
And exorbitantly priced aroma therapy bath salts 
To wash the stress away 

Take me away Calgon bath oil beads no longer strong enough 
To wash away the day
Something stronger is now needed
As America convulses.

“Stand as far away from me as you can and ask me why
Hold on to your mālā beads 
Close your eyes And watch me die”.

If you’re not angry 
Then you’re just not paying attention.

As “Mind-less-ness Meditation“ exhorts us to  
Watch our breath
And become comfortable in our seats
Presumably so that our meat won’t be too tough
When they slaughter us 
Just before they make us into Soylent Green

Or send us out into the world prematurely like cannon fodder 
To see if COVID-19 
Is really as deadly as they think it is

As they KNOW it is.
New opiates for a New Age
Being “spiritual” does not mean being clueless
In the tradition of:
Dayānanda Sarasvāti,Ram Mohan Roy
Mohandas K. Gandhi, 
Srī Aurobindo, 
Srī Yukteswar [in his younger days]; 
Arundati Roy
Malcom X,
Rosa Parks 
Fannie Lou Hamer
Martin Luther [Mike] King Jr.
Nelson Mandela; 
Alice Walker; 
Ruth [Ruthie] Wilson Gilmore; 
Angela Y. Davis
and Barak Hussein Obama

To name ONE — as a Vedāntan would say.

Great ONES who knew how to work through their relative selves 
To help To change 
Our ONE world.

The face of yoga is that of a Dravidian sage.

Save the bleach for COVID-19
But don’t use it to denature the Ideas and Ideals of Brown skinned people
For memes
Twitter and Facebook quotes
Or monuments designed to rewrite history.

Embodied ideas are more confrontational and problematic to consider
Then New Age tapioca and flavorless tofu teachings

If that wasn’t true
Barak Obama’s presidential portrait would be unveiled 
And Harriet Tubman would be on the $20 dollar bill.

But instead of celebrating the Queen of Freedom 
And the Underground Railroad
We build fences around 
And fortify a statue of 
The President who drove the Trail of Tears.

“We think of faith as a source of comfort and understanding 
But find our expressions of faith sowing division
We believe ourselves to be a tolerant people
Even as racial, religious, and cultural tensions roil the landscape
And instead of resolving these tensions or mediating these conflicts
Our politics fans them
Exploits them
And drives us further apart.”

Now who said that?

I think we may have forgotten in these past four years
That have felt like a century.
He famously carried a token of Hanumān with him 
Where ever he went
And lifted the mountain of healing herbs on his Demi-Nubian shoulders 
And for eight years 
The fragrance of HOPE
Filled our nostrils.

It started as a whisper in Springfield Illinois
And now we are shouting in the streets again
And hope again seems audacious.

Because of social distancing 
And sheltering in place
The night sky is becoming visible again in India
The Himalayan Mountains are visible  in the distance
Even from cities whose air was once gray with pollution.
Wild animals are encroaching upon urban environments 

Are we the HOPE or the PROBLEM?

Is there a Goop product that cures stupidity?
And if there is, where would you rub it?
If I rub it on a Confederate Statue will it Melt away and disappear?

Is there a Goop repellant we could spray on the White House
To keep Trump away from it?
We could call that fragrance “Melania’s Hand Slap”Because it works for her.

Yudhiṣṭhira knew the truth:
If they ever open a gate for you
And invite you in saying:

“This is heaven;
But, you just can’t bring your dog.”

It’s a trap!
Be steady in war
Know that place to be hell
And walk on.

The God of Small Things would let you into heaven
Especially with your dog.

Will America have a breakdown 
Before it has a breakthrough?

Oh God of Small Things!
Convey me into a heaven where 
Even my family and my dog is welcome
Grant Us Wholeness.

(Photo Credit: Margaret Barthel/ DCist/ WAMU) (Video: YouTube)

Episode XV: Answer to Langston Hughes

BOOM!

Episode XIV: Tonight You Have Your Answer/The Specter of Barak Obama

Episode XIV: Tonight You Have Your Answer/The Specter of Barak Obama

It is a time of purges and pandemic

There is record unemployment and long lines form at food banks 
Farmers dump milk, food grains and slaughter animals 
Unable to find markets for their produce.

The quarantine has brought the consumer market to a standstill.

Elements of the previous administration are being swept away in 
Friday Night Firings,

While untested medicines are being used to treat COVID-19
America pulls funding from the World Health Organization
And muzzles the Center for Disease Control.

All 50 states have reopened 
Without meeting the minimum requirements for enng the quarantine safely.
Florida and Georgia falsify their data for political expediency
Sending frontline workers into the line of fire
In the American Hot Zone.

A telephone conference is held by a former two term President with 3000 of his loyal staffers still in a position to fight. 

As his successor Dolt 45 does everything in his power to erase the legacy of his triumphs

Including a failure to unveil 44’s official Nubian Presidential portrait.

Oh, why can’t you quit him, Orange Man.

The broken hearted burn Cities in America’s Heartland
Another Black Man strangled by a Thin Blue Line,
Sparking empathetic riots in other major American Cities

And I will give my Nephews “The Talk”.

It is almost the same talk that was given to me 

But served with extra side dishes of 
Plague, tear gas, and flash bangs

Tales of “Officer Not So Friendly”
And the American Injustice system 
They will face if they are ever stopped or arrested.

Boys I say, we are definitely not living in a post racial America.
And the masks you are wearing may protect you from the plague
But not the tear gas.

At first they don’t believe me
My words clashing with the Specter of Barak Obama
Their most vivid memories of a president 
Who looked like them.

Eight Years of Barak Obama and his beautiful sleeveless Queen.
As they came to consciousness 
And came of age.

Then they watch a Black CNN reporter arrested and taken into custody
As his White counterpart remains unmolested.

And they think that perhaps
Their crazy Uncle may have a point or two.

If there is anyone out there who still doubts that America is a place where all things once possible can be erased,

Who still wonders if the dream of our founders is alive;
but, unwell in our time,
Sickened by all of our contradictions.

Who still questions the power of old hatreds to subvert our 
New Democratic experiment

Tonight you have your answer.

(Image Credit: Dolly Li / Oxford American)

Episode XIII: The Ghost of Thurgood Marshall

Episode XIII: The Ghost of Thurgood Marshall

It is a Dark time for the Representative Republic; the Ideal of Democracy is taking body blows world wide.

In North America 
A bright orange alien president with bone spurs 
Who can’t even win the battle of the sexes with his ice queen wife 
Wants to declare himself a wartime president against an invisible enemy Without ever firing an accurate shot.

In Times Square
 A Trump Death Clock has been ERECTED to track the lives lost 
as a result of his IMPOTENCE in dealing with the COVID-19 Pandemic.

Jill Nelson 
A 63 year old grandmother 
Political Activist 
And Rebellious Heart writes
 “Trump equals Plague” in white chalk on a boarded up building 
And is instantly arrested and held.

Unfortunately for her 
She was not an angry White man With a gun in a Michigan Statehouse. 
If she were she just have could just continued on with her day. 

Malcom told us: 
Clear thinking is more dangerous then bullets
And the most dangerous thing in the world is a rebellious person of color that can read.

Dissent from the apathy

Dissent from the fear

Dissent from the hatred and mistrust

We must dissent from the apathy of an America that has buried it head in the sand 
Waiting in vain for the needs of its poor 
It’s elderly
It’s sick
To just disappear and magically blow away
In April, or May or June or July
Or, Until Dolt 45 is re-elected.

I hear the ghost of Thurgood Marshall howling.
His voice is speaking through 
The rhythmic purring of the ventilators and the ECMO machines. 

As a child I asked my Mother why she was forcing me to read his words 
She just said:
“Don’t worry. You’ll definitely need them later.”

“We must dissent from poverty of vision and the absence of moral leadership. We must dissent because America can do better.

Because America has no choice but to do better.“

Will there be an Episode XIV?

(Image Credit: Failure to Listen)

COVID-19 And the Death of Common Sense

Marc Chagall’s The Falling Angel

COVID-19 And the Death of Common Sense

Yes
Apparently part of the plan is
That I
A Black Man in America, am going to put a mask around my face
A bandana
Leave my house
And then go outside.

Where there are policemen with guns.

Who do so well with Black men without masks.

With the ascent of fear
Comes the death of common sense.

Why do we wait for liars to tell us the truth
And doubt our own insight and experience?

And then he started to scream.

It was a low guttural growl at first
Changing gradually to a sound one might expect to hear
If the doorway to Hell were left ajar
And like an idiotic lovecraftian eavesdroper
You to put your ear to the crack to hear sounds
That would leave scars.

And after hearing what could not be unheard
You will ask yourself for the rest of your troubled life
What was worse:
The screaming
Or what was being done to cause it?

I mean, you would ask this
If you could stop screaming!

Safety gear is just for your psychology
Just like headgear in full contact sparing
Or like football gear that DOESN’T prevent chronic traumatic encephalopathy
In lifelong players

Transmission of a virus occurs through contact
It doesn’t matter how much safety gear you have
If you are in constant contact with a virus

Said the doctors in Italy

Isn’t that written somewhere in children’s school books?

Presentes mis doctores que luchan en la vanguardia de esta batalla

The common cold is a virus
And there is no cure or vaccine against it
Because of how a virus changes vectors

How, then, will there be a vaccine for COVID-19?

People take flu shots every year
And every year people still get the flu
A flu that is always from somewhere else
And never from “here”.

I’m not a doctor
Or in medical school
And I don’t play one on T.V.
But I know that.

Tactically, they know people can’t deal with the truth
They are bringing the population along
Spoon feeding us lies incrementally
Inch by inchTo prevent a wide spread panic

And suddenly there are daily Presidential press conferences
But still no uniform national strategy

COVID-19, Kidney Stone, Chemo
The new rock, paper, scissors
And COVID-19 beats Chemo

As healthcare professionals
And Samuel L. Jackson urge us
To stay the fuck at home.

This is what I’m lookin’ at.

Good news takes care of itself
Don’t tell me about 5 minute tests
(Five minutes abs didn’t work either)

As bodies gather in hallways
And are loaded on to refrigerated trucks

Good news takes care of itself.
And there is no good news.

Today they are hoarding toilet paper
What will it be tomorrow?

Maybe I do need a mask.

May the angel of death pass over your home.
מי ייתן מלאך המוות פסח לביתך

(Image Credit: Marc Chagall)

What Should I Do Assata: for the Ancestors

What Should I Do Assata: for the Ancestors 

What should I do Assata? They’re coming for my womb!

Shouted Justice

And, I won’t know who is grabbing my pussy because I’m blindfolded!

But, I can guess.

Is it quisling Alan Dershowitz forgetting the wisdom of “when they came for…”

Is it the narco-trafficante 

Killing Isabel Cabanillas while she bicycles home from a gathering in Ciudad Juàrez?

Was her music too dangerous?

Or, her murals too revolutionary and inflammatory?

Was it the artificial intelligence facial recognition technology that misidentifies Black, Brown, Yellow and female faces?

But can spot a Uyghur from outer space in a crowd of ethnic Chinese.

Removed from their homes

Their graveyards desecrated

By a country that claims to be re-educating them 

And protecting them from their own culture, religion, and language

To make them more productive citizens.

Uyghurs — apparently — are the new Niggers; or perhaps the new Redskins or Chiefs

And, A.I. Identifiable “Whiteface” is the new blackface warns the MIT Media Labs.

Was it the new laws in South Dakota outlawing treatment for trans youth? 

They won’t have to be oppressed if they just kill themselves and be done with it

Cause of death: body dismorphia

Is intersectionality dead 

The wisdom of “when they came for…”

Or are the opiates just that strong?

Because if they come for my body

They will come for yours, too.

Who was it who said:

I wish that they all had just one neck so that I could slit their throats all at once 

I think it was Caligula

If he had waited just 2000 years his wish would have come true. 

We rewrite the New Colossus to include a wealth and education test

While we install a new Caligula

His hand on the throat of Our collective dreaming 
One foot in America and the other in the Middle East

While pissing on immigrants. 

And the lies 

So many lies.

“Why don’t we get to keep the oil?”, he asks.

I shake my head in shame

Everyone I respect is dead 

And all of my enemies are in power 

The affirmation of an optimistic 

Revolutionary mind

I would root for the intelligence agencies if your COINTELPRO experience didn’t inform me, Assata.

What should I do, Assata? 

While you are still here for me to ask you the question

What should I do?

How did you find hope in your gunshot riddled and beaten body?

How did you not despair when your godson was taken away too soon?

When you were imprisoned with men

And they tried to murder both you and your hope

How did you escape to fight another day? 

Oh, 20 century escaped slave with a price on your head

A two million dollar bounty for helping people to get freed;

While America bends over backwards to exonerate a man murdering representative democracy

And renewing the call for your capture

The first amendment has been  shot through and beaten 

As if it were a Black Panther on the New Jersey Turnpike 

Tolls paid for with blood sweat and tears 

Hope left waterboarded, tortured, and gasping 

Through disinformation and the scrawl of a Sharpie marker

Assata, may the trade winds of Cuba ever caress your skin 

And Afro-Cuban music ever fill your ears. 

Spit in the direction of Mar Largo

And cast ancient curses at an Orange Man.

Should I learn how to make myself small like Harriet

Or should I become larger then Life itself like you?

If we sing out loud; or paint our murals; or march

Will the Space Force and the A.I. cameras see us? 

They are coming to get me

And I AM paranoid.

Justice is blind 

But not stupid. 

At midnight all the agents and the superhero crew 

Will round up all the people who Love more then they do

Then they’ll hook us to Alexis to publicize our dreams 

And sell our souls to Facebook and the information machines.

Ain’t I a woman, too?

Asks justice 

Taking off her blindfold 
And bearing her breasts.

Ain’t I a fuckin’ woman, too.

(Image Credit 1: LA Progressive) (Image Credit 2: Mural de Genero)

Sankofa: In Memory of Gil Scott Heron Now Eight Years Gone

Winter in America

Sankofa: In Memory of Gil Scott Heron Now Eight Years Gone

Warn me to battle not monsters, Gil
You gazed into the Abyss
And now you have become it.

I see you shining as I gaze at the Abyss also gazing

And trying not to become what I see.

Your body was dust and into dust it has returned.

Now I can hear the stones singing
Whenever I put my ear to the ground.

Songs of revelation and revolution
Rebirth and regeneration
I too am dust
Your poetry breathing life into me.

Earth

A million people in the streets of Hong Kong hear your songs
Umbrellas and heart
Verses bear spray and ballistic shields
Rubber bullets
And heavy riot sticks
For now their government listens
I mean
Could a million Chinese be wrong?

Trans activists reading the names of the fallen of their community
Telling their stories of hidden violence
Hear your songs.

Strike a pose for the Latinx who died on Rikers Island
Because she couldn’t raise $500 in bail money for a misdemeanor.
Her kindred also found dead on the streets of Texas
And beheaded on courthouse steps in Mexico.

Choiceless families of choice, don’t forget them after Pride month.

Speak no evil?

Larry Kramer already told us that silence equals death
Don’t forget how to act up.

It is good to go back to get what has been forgotten.

Names of kindred on heart shaped Stones
Left on Potter’s Field on a New York island
Or sewn on blankets presented on the National Mall
Now archived in Smithsonian Museums.

Remember the names
The stones
The blankets
And, most importantly the people.

Angry protestors in Tennessee hear your songs
The heads of 24 policemen provided the percussion section
Another officer involved shooting.

Let the earth be my weapon before it becomes my womb
Let me be judged by twelve
Before I am carried out by six.

Water

Thirsty people seeking asylum hear your songs
So do the the Samaritans on trial for leaving them water in the desert
Facing 20 years in prison for acts of federal felony compassion.

For compassion’s sake they chant “No More Death”
A deadlocked jury still can’t decide between the spirit of the law
And the laws letters.

The dying continues:
The body of a six year old girl from India is found in the desert.

How did she get there?

And, who have we become?

Japanese Americans say history is repeating itself.
Interment camps reopening
With the same justification
National insecurity.

Mr. Sulu, we are still a long way from the Starship Enterprise
Our four-year mission is just to get an Orange Man’s foot
Out of America’s assAnd to boldly get back to
Where we were before.

It wasn’t good; but it was better
And better is good
Shout out Barack Obama
I understand you better now.

“Don’t it always seem to go
That you don’t know what you got‘
Til it’s gone.”

To those out there who still know how to throw a rock,
Light a fire
And make a gas mask out of
A wet handkerchief and human saliva I say:

Teach the children
They won’t find these skills on YouTube
Or Instagram.

Presenté, keepers of our memories.

Can you dust off your light sabers one more time
In this inelegant age of random blasters?
As the dying continues.

See no evil

Laura Engram defending white nationalisst on Fox News
While American war criminals are considered for presidential pardons.

But no one yet found guilty of polluting the drinking water in Flint Michigan.No one guilty of the deaths in our border prison camps.

5200 ICE detainees are quarantined with suspected cases of Mumps and Chicken Pox

The Hieleras becoming hot zones.

Fire

And just who blew up the oil tankers in the Gulf of Oman anyway?
Are we being prepared for an October surprise in June?

Who will harvest that bitter fruit come September?

Men set themselves on fire in Washington D.C.
And I think of Buddhist Monks in Vietnam in 1963
And lately Monks and nuns witnessing for Tibet
Middle Path adherents taking the belief in the impermanent
To an extreme
You only get to do that once!
Burn baby burn.

Air

I hold up this candle next to your sun, Gil.
All of the songs you sang still work.
Which means how we are living here in America doesn’t.

Justice is blind still holding the scales of Libra.
But she is standing on an inclined plane
The pan that represents me and mine
Always the lighter of the two.

Once the question was:
Are there two separate and unequal justice systems in America?

Now the question is:
How many unequal Justice systems does America have?

Or, Is that just me being optimistic?

Avoiding the question
Is there a justice system at all?

Pardon my chagrin
Pardon my skepticism
Pardon me while I have to explain to young black men
That there is no pardon for playing with toy guns in a city parks.

Or selling loose cigarette to make ends meet.

Pardon me while I tell women that rape can be used as a tool of war Without an international outcry.

Or if I say Excusez-moi — will you think me more educated and therefore less of a target?

Na!

Camo-hiding Huxtable affectations do not work better then
A Kevlar vest
A helmet
And a good gas mask.
You could ask Sandra Bland
I mean, if she were alive.

Pardon me when I question that our answer to gun violenceis not reporting the shooter’s name on the news.

Hear no evil.

Pardon me when no matter how hard we try to prevent copy cat killings The killing continues.

I guess the non-copy cats must think they have come up with an amazingly original idea!

Pardon my invective.

Pardon my anger.

And pardon me for taking a bite out of you, Gil
To write this poem
There are no new ideas
Just ideas that are well stolen
From the past that is prologue.

Or, call it Sankofa looking back as I fly forward through time.

I feel so lost.

I’m just reaching back to help me on my journey forward.

May justice stand on a firm foundation.

May there be a level playing field to calibrate the scales of justice.

Take your thumb off of the scales
And keep your foot off of the earth’s neck
So we can all breathe again.

Hear no evil.

Why do I forget what I should remember
And remember what I should forget?

Hermann Hesse said that if I listened to the blending of all the outcries
I would hear OM the word of words.

I’m not that good yet.

But I can still hear you, Gil
In the rocks and stones and from the Abyss.
When I put my ear to the ground.

(Image Credit 1: OkayPlayer) (Image Credit 2: Berea College)

Goddess Kaddish: dedicated to Greta Thunberg a faithful Kaddishim

Goddess Kaddish: dedicated to Greta Thunberg a faithful Kaddishim

I can hear my mother call; can you hear your mother call?
The Mothers who have chosen to give birth
And The Mothers who have chosen not to

Can we let our Mothers choose 
While also choosing our Mothers?

Fetal heartbeat laws
Alabama, Georgia, Ohio, and Louisiana
Restrictive American meccas 
Using 21st century trick-nology to make medieval decisions.

The heartless say they hear a heartbeat
Could the Religious Right
Be religiously wrong?

Macrocosmic microcosmic contradictions
We use laws to remove choice from Mothers
While refusing to enact laws to protect Mother Earth 

Leave the seamless webs to Mother Ariadne
Because when we weave
our webs are frayed 
And misshapen 

And Mother knows best

To She whose name means: 
The Mother of all Living
Who continues to get a bad rap

To the serpent encircling the egg of creation who waits patiently for our realization.

ॐसंसरस्वत्यैनमः॥
Auṃ saṃ Sarasvatyai namaḥ॥
Hail to Thee oh Source of all Wisdom

May Her great Name grow exalted and sanctified

ॐशान्ति: शान्ति: शान्ति:॥
Oṃ śhāntiḥ śhāntiḥ śhāntiḥ॥
Amen Peace, Peace, Peace

In the world that She created as She willed
May Her sovereignty prevail in your lifetimes and in your days, 
And in the lifetimes of the entire world family
Swiftly and soon. 
Now say: 

ॐशान्ति: शान्ति: शान्ति:॥
Oṃ śhāntiḥ śhāntiḥ śhāntiḥ
Amen Peace, Peace, Peace

May her Names be blessed forever and ever

I can hear my mother call; can you hear your mother call?

But no science applying to Mother Earth.
Why listen to climate science when you can just guess?

Black milk from the breast of mother earth 
 she nurses us patiently
But will we ever be weaned?

To Greta Thunberg who sees her long body already perceiving herself
As mother 
As crone 
As ancestor

Sixteen year old Tetragrammaton 
She is three in one and one in three 
And speaks as the mystical fourth
Obsessively and compulsively seeing the world in Black and White
So that it may stay forever Green

The celebration of the earth needs more then a single day
One million species at risk of extinction in the next twenty years

The greatest threat to biodiversity

U.S.

(We see you, Monsanto) 

Can we collectively reassemble this shattered vessel while there is still time

tikkun olam:
Goddess will only come to earth when she is no longer needed.

All poets have selective mutism and speak only when necessary
And this is one of those times
Oh sing, Greta 
Sing you faithful kaddishim
Your skin, bone, and heretic’s heart be your authority.

ॐश्रींलक्ष्म्यैनामः॥
Auṃ srīṃ Lakṣhmyai namaḥ॥
Hail to Thee Oh Source of all riches

Blessed, praised, glorified, exalted, extolled,
Mighty, upraised, and lauded be the Name The Triple Goddess
Blessed is She.
Beyond any blessing and song, 
Beyond any praise and consolation that are uttered in the world.
Now say:

ॐशान्ति: शान्ति: शान्ति:॥
Oṃ śhāntiḥ śhāntiḥ śhāntiḥ॥
Amen Peace, Peace, Peace

May Her Name be blessed forever and ever

I can hear my mother call; can you hear your mother call?
To the earth mothers through whose hands the Goddess feeds
Can you see her hands in all hands hands?
Making a chapati
Or a flour tortilla
A loaf of bread 
Injera 
Sweet potato flat bread
Or offering fermented cabbage and a single bowl of rice

ॐक्रींकाल्यैनम:॥
Auṃ krīṃ kālyai namaḥ॥
Hail to She who takes away the darkness 

Blessed, praised, glorified, exalted, extolled,
Mighty, upraised, and lauded be the Name 
Of She who governs the fullness of time
Blessed is She
Blessed beyond any blessing and song, 
Beyond any praise and consolation that are uttered in the world. 
Now say: 

ॐशान्ति: शान्ति: शान्ति:॥
Oṃ śhāntiḥ śhāntiḥ śhāntiḥ॥
Amen Peace, Peace, Peace

To the Virgin
To the Naiad 
To the Crone
In her fear inducing 
And beneficent forms
Can you see her vigorously pointing 
Spanking your bare bottom
Or using a shoe like a boomerang

(Boy! I brought you into this world and I can take you out, too)

To the Angels in suffragette white raising the roof in Congress; 
The workers striking and singing Bread and Roses
The burnt wreckage of our lady in Paris 
The Black meteoric stone in Mecca encased in Vaginal shaped silver 
We all come from The Mother and unto Her we shall return

ॐह्रींश्रीं  दुं दुर्गायैनमः॥
Auṃ hrīṃ srīṃ duṃ durgāyai namaḥ॥
Hail to She who is difficult to approach
Grantor of Increase
Who Removes all Difficulties

May there be abundant peace from Heaven 
And life upon us and upon all the world
Now say:

ॐशान्ति: शान्ति: शान्ति:॥
Oṃ śhāntiḥ śhāntiḥ śhāntiḥ॥
Amen Peace, Peace, Peace

I can hear my mother call. Can you hear your mother call?

To the Southern Black Women in a galvanized steel tub
Who laundry danced so that I could fly
Oh mother I would kiss those soapy feet if I could

To the German char woman who could
butcher
cook
and eat 
every single part of a pig
“Brains is good waste not want not”
she would say

Three boxes of detergent in her cupboard at all times 
When one was empty 
Time to buy a replacement box

To Sister mothers who held my hand while mama died
She who habitually stole the last crispy perfect french fry 
From my dinner plate

From womb to tomb
Womb to tomb 
again and again
be they 
Stellar
Aqueous 
Or Earthly dust

We all come from The Mother and unto Her we shall return

She who makes peace in Her heights, may She make peace, 
Upon us and upon all the world
Now say:

ॐशान्ति: शान्ति: शान्ति:॥
Oṃ śhāntiḥ śhāntiḥ śhāntiḥ॥
Amen Peace, Peace, Peace

Mother you are full of grace
And blessed are we the fruit of Your womb
Bless us now and in the hour of our deaths and rebirths

(Photo Credit: Hanna Franzen / Reuters / New Scientist)

Reconstruction Endgame

Reconstruction Endgame 

Those who live history are condemned to learn it.
Oh! snap your fingers Thanos and make half of all of this shit go away

I want to lose the half that had the lynchings and the chains
James Byrd Jr. in Texas
Trayvon Martin in Florida
(Stand your ground)
Eric Garner in Brooklyn 
(I can’t breathe!)
Cause of death selling loosies 

Church Burnings and shootings
Synagogue and Mosque Massacres
And don’t forget the high schools and The Trenchcoat Mafias
Then 
And yet to come

A long time comin’
Came and went.

The false hope and the misplaced optimismDon’t let them turn you into a Black Minstrel in Whiteface, Barrack
I want to hear you sing
Nobody Knows the Trouble I’ve Seen: the remix

But sing it like an R&B singer 
During this reconstructed Reconstruction 
Remind us how to have faith and hope and love
Because hoping IS audacious.
Call your debut solo album Stolen Legacy 3.0 the citizen years
And
Endeavor to persevere

Do we really have to live this time line
Or can our future be changed?

Let all the White girls sing  
Doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo
And take a walk on the wild side 
Attend hot yoga classes in $200 leotards anywhere you want
Because 
Global warming is everywhere

Take off your pretty pink
Knitted kitten hats
And please don’t have 52% of you vote for a male finger fucker.
Your soup can reality shaped by
Facebook posts, Instagram and reTweets
Hope and Change
In this Reconstruction End Game

Death, walk on an ocean of blood
And sacrifice your children to achieve your ends
Kill affordable healthcare
What do you care?

You are old and will retire in comfort
Then turn to dust
In a universe rebuilt in your image

Turn the dreams into nightmares
And snuff hope out, oh! you retroactive abortionist
Protect the unborn but kill the fully grown
Pray to Capitalism and jesus™️
Hug the flag but kill the mothers
And veto UN resolutions condemning rape as a tool of war

Avengers Assemble!!!!!
The children of D.W. Griffith are marching on Charlottesville 
And in Neo-Imperial Coronations  
Rebirth of a Nation: the sequel 
Non-colorful costumes embossed with runic symbols
Illumined by tiki torches carried by the very fine.

But then, D.C. invented the dark hero-vers 

Someone tried to teach me this story when I was little 
But I thought
Who wants to learn this old shit
Teach me about Kennedy, and King
Or Malcolm, or Patrice Lumumba
Teach me about Mau Mau 
And Eldridge 
I want to learn how to say my name in Swahili
And figure out why our favorite musicians are all blind and wear dark sunglasses

Put us on television and accept us into colleges
I want to dance to Miriam Makeba’s Pata Pata 
And look fly in an Ivory Coast Dashiki 
My Afro glittering with oily Johnson hair care products
Then in this time line 
Someday I’ll hear a Black poet laureate recite:
And Still I Rise

But today if I took the Pulse of the Morning 
Today when congressional subpoenas can simply be ignored
Today when 400-page Mueller Reports can be summarized with four pages of lies
Today when Obama is the hope that dare not speak its name
If I took The Pulse of this morning 
It would be dead
Killed by the same stories I wouldn’t learn as a child

But those who live history 
Are condemned to learn it.

(Photo Credit: PBS)