Sin Nombre. Si

Some have given up so much
in the pursuit of freedom
some whose names are long ago forgotten
some without names
si
I can never be reminded enough
I can never forget
some have given up so much
in the pursuit of freedom
some whose names are long ago forgotten
some without names
si

Consumer Confidence Index

soiled, unsoiled
with the blood of injustice
where is the exit door
a crack, an opening
goods and more goods
is there justice in material wealth,
in the seams,
in the nuts and bolts

Undo

There are those that spend their lifetime attaining and protecting their safety, comfort, security, privilege.

There are those that spend their lifetime finding and implementing new forms of apartheid, genocide, fascism, tyranny.

There are those that spend their lifetime undoing what others have done.

What do you know about Jesus?

only what they tell me
and what I have imagined.
I do know about you,
what you do
and what you don’t do;
what you say
and what you don’t say:
your mercy,
your favor,
your kindness
or not.
And I know oh too well about me,
what I do
and what I have done that I am ashamed of;
what I said
and what I lied about;
how I really felt
and how empty it all feels;
what I really want
and what I don’t have which money cannot buy;
what I think
and what I don’t remotely understand and perhaps will never;
what I fear
and what I rationalize;
what I hopelessly hope for
and what I no longer believe.
What do you know about Jesus;
only what they tell me
and what I have imagined.

The Call

The Call:
we get them
and we make ‘em.
It’s 8:31 PM.
The phone rang;
my home phone first, then my cell phone twice
while I was laying on top my bed covers.
I had my feet roasting like chestnuts,
only weren’t no open fire, just a space heater.
T.V. on mute.
Silent night,
not sure if it’s Holy though.
My usual DVD is playing, “NCIS”:
Season 5, Disk 4 been my favorite for awhile now.
Done watch it about 100 times since
I unplugged my mind from network and cable T.V.
Been laying here, staring the ceiling,
knowing all its cracks, crevices and spider webs by-heart now.
Don’t know how long I been gazing up.
I think I been looking to the hills long enough though,
ever since the preacha’ told me my help was comin’ from there
I been eyeing dem hills.
But no help ever come,
least not the help I been wanting and waitn' fo’ since
I left good religion.
I ain’t give up though!
Still tryin’ to figure out life call “Linda Karen Crockett.”
Use to be call “Linda Karen Lewis”
fo’ I was married to Darius Crockett while back.
Never changed it even though we been detached from each other
since our daughter Daria was 3,
I moved back to Oakland,
got good religion.
Still tryin’ to figure out life call “Humanity” too.
Never changed it either even though it been detached from itself
since Adam blamed Eve, Eve blamed the snake,
and Cain killed their son, his brother Abel.
I look over at Caller ID.
“See who it is first.”
Use to talk, talk, talk on the phone years ago.
Nowadays, I mostly let Caller ID do the talkin’.
This time Caller ID say, “Mom 17738463752.”
Dang, I ain’t made a call to my mom,
to that number in so long enough to forget it.
I had to look up my mom’s phone number to put it in this memoir.
“Mom 17738463752.”
It might be The Call,
from my sister about my mom,
from my mom about my sister.
Might be either just want to talk.
I miss them too.
Doesn’t matter what time of day it is;
it is The Call that we don’t want to receive,
and it is The Call we don’t want to make.
I made a call or two before.
I receive more.
Seem like the older I get,
the more I dread when the phone even ring.
I don’t care what time it is,
seem like I don’t want to take no calls.
Night be worse though.
Seem like The Call always be in the night.
Dark. Quiet. Still. Usually alone.
Sometimes dogs howling.
Can’t see yo’ hand in front of yo’ face some places.
But day light don’t make death mo’ easier
see yo’ way to its grave.
Day or night, sunshine or darkness,
dying is hard, sad, mysterious, painful all 24 hours o’ the day.
One day someone will make The Call to my family,
though I’m not even sure who that would be.
Sometimes I wish I could make The Call for myself.
Hello mom,
tomorrow my last day,
goin’ up yonder to be wit’ my Lord.
I call to tell you myself,
so you don’t have to get The Call from no one else.
I love you.
Got just a few hours to go,
I still tryin’ to figure out life,
the one you birth and name ‘Me’,
and the one God birth too, name ‘Humanity.’
Still don’t understand.
Don’t seem like none of it was worth it,
all that birthin’ I mean.
Guess I ain’t never gone understand,
least not likely in the last few hours I got left.
I love you.
I guess we ain’t never gone know each other like our heart want to,
least not likely in the last few hours I got left.
My heart wanted a lotta things,
never got ‘em though,
I never got what I wanted from God, Santa Claus or Oprah,
not likely to get ‘em in the last few hours I got left neither.
Don’t seem like none of it was worth it,
all that birthin’ I mean.
Guess I ain’t never gone understand,
least not likely in the last few hours I got left.
I love you.

Try

We must try
try NOT to think of life in terms of who I am,
what I have
what I own
what I do
what I have achieved
what I believe
what I need
We must try
try NOT to think of life in terms of I
I
I
I
I
I
I
try to think of life in terms of we

Traveling

I been traveling for a while
the road mostly rugged, rising and falling, uncharted
where you headed, you ask
aiming to reach my authentic self one day
been trying to get to her seem like a long time now
no plans of giving up though
I hope I arrive at her before I die