Colors

 

Warm colors
The color of flesh
From pale white to near black
Pearl, blush, tawny, olive, cocoa
What a resplendent ocean of color!
They shimmer harmoniously
upon the waves of prosperity and hope.
They move independently,
each with its own seminal language,
yet with the ability
to function as one-
the human machinery-
insurmountable,
exquisitely formed,
opalescent,
unremitting,
ALIVE!
No one part any less important
than another.
Each well-oiled with the blood
of their fore fathers and mothers
wearing the badges of
sacrifice and injustice,
courage and dignity.
Each with their own uniqueness,
well-crafted and intricately made,
brought together under the banner of
Democracy,
unified by freedom and liberty,
with an intractable will
and mutual respect,
formidable yet compassionate.
The lady with the torch still beckons,
draped in technicolored robes
straddling amber fields
and murky waters,
weapons of mass unification
hidden under her tattered skirts
that threaten to overcome.
The torch waits to be relit.
“Come and find solace here!”
she declares.
From pale white to near black.
Warm colors.
The colors of flesh.
The colors of America.

August (a love poem)

 

August languishes
Like the ass end of summer.
The streets are littered with melted carcasses
Slumped on park benches
And outside store fronts.
Half spoken conversations
Float laboriously in the air;
Collide into one another
In the middle of five o’clock traffic.
Horns blare, drivers swear
And interrupt the ‘thump, thump’
Of stagnant vehicles.
Sweat runs like rivers on foreheads,
Around necks,
And down backs to pool in crevices-
Uncomfortable and stinking.
Dreams of cooler weather fill the brain pans
Of malcontents, asthmatics, and anyone alive.
We sit outside a crowded ‘Tastee Freez’.
You eat your ice cream
While I drink a soda and grimace.
Children squeal and threaten each other
With their ice cream ‘swords’.
Sticky streams run down their bare arms
Attracting gnats and copious amounts of dirt.
“Street urchins” I spit out
As I lean my arm on the table,
Only to withdraw it immediately.
A milky, ketchup mess coats my skin.
“Oh, son-of-a-bitch!”
All I hear is your laughter.
My lone napkin just smears it
Leaving bits of cheap paper hanging from my arm.
You roar with hysterics,
“Street urchin!”
I pout as you clean me up,
“I’m not a child, you know.”
“Yes, you are. You’re an urchin.
But you’re my urchin and I love you.”
I melt.
If you cut me with razors
I would willingly bleed for you.
Instead, you feed me your ice cream
And drown me in your smile.

To The Grandiose Shopkeeper

you killed our heart.

you took away the light and the sunshine

and replaced it with gray smoke and ash.

you took away the clean fresh air

and replaced it with face mask and toxic gas.

you took away the open green prairies

and replaced it with ugly pipe and crude.

you took away our sense of security and confidence

and replaced it with fear mongering, isolation and a wall

you took away our democratic press

and gave us red herrings and “fake news”.

you try to silence those of us who dare to speak

by belittling us, ignoring us and threatening us.

but we will not be silenced.

WE WILL BE HEARD.

you took away our respect, our dignity, our self-worth, our place in the world

and you replaced it with instability, insecurity, fear, shame and constant derogatory

quips on ‘twitter’.

you stomp your feet and expect to get your way.

it doesn’t work for toddlers.

why should it work for you?

and when you don’t get your way

you make false promises of

good healthcare FOR ALL,

better education FOR ALL,

jobs FOR ALL,

clean water FOR ALL,

security FOR ALL

in an effort to cajole us

though you nor your cronies

have ever been

HUNGRY

HOMELESS

IMPOVERISHED

SEGRAGATED

BROKEN.

yet you expect us to ‘believe you’.

that poses the question-

“How can so few with so very much effectively govern

so many with so very little?”

you may try to kill our heart

BUT YOU CAN NOT,

WILL NOT

BREAK OUR SPIRIT.

K. Leslie