One Word

Just one word, one word - sharp and cutting.
Gut reaction.
Automatic visceral response.
Anger, fear, shame, confusion, bewilderment.
One word, domino effect, emotional draining flash back
...punch in the stomach, what the fuck not quite an epiphany
slow realization, an unwinding.
Slow with meaning.
A learning; knowledge filled shaping, the future bend.
Young girl unknown meaning, one word
A pattern - "…you wait outside…"
Sunny Saturday, waiting outside.
"…you can't come in, but we can play together, my father says you're a wop..."
"My father says you're like a nigger, like a monkey, we don't let animals in our house; except the cat and dog, but we can play together…"
Fifteen years later, I helped her elope.
She climbed out of her bedroom window, 
I waited down the street in my VW Bus.
We drove to the town hall and she married a man of color.

Just one word, one more word - sharp and cutting.
Gut reaction.
Automatic visceral response.
Anger, fear, shame, confusion, bewilderment.
One word, domino effect, emotional draining flash back
...punch in the stomach, what the fuck not quite an epiphany
slow realization, an unwinding.
Slow with meaning.
A learning; a knowledge filled shaping, a future bend.
Young girl unknown meaning, one word,
"…I like you, but my brother said I can't because you're a dago…"
A pattern - "…we can still like each other but no one can know…"
We walked past each other in the halls, middle school, high school.
Our eyes would meet, we would smile, but we both knew what we didn't know.
Ten years later, you became my lover.
We spent the summer together, we didn't talk about the past but it was there.
We both understood, we knew and we cried together.
I said goodbye to you in September,
and watched your motorcycle fade off into the sunset.

Just one word, one word - sharp and cutting.
Gut reaction.
Automatic visceral response.
Anger, fear, shame, confusion, bewilderment.
One word, domino effect, emotional draining flash back
...punch in the stomach, what the fuck not quite an epiphany
slow realization, an unwinding.
Slow with meaning.
A learning; knowledge filled shaping, the future bend.
Young girl unknown meaning, one word.
It only takes one word…

© 2016 TrilbyYates

I Am OK

Words in print 
words shouted 
from the left 
and right 
fearful 
we are falling in love 
with our own rectitude 
fearful 
we walk a fine line 
of  righteousness 
and never acknowledge 
the lapse of judgement 
or even the possibility
that we haven't got a real grasp 
on what is slipping 
between our fingers 
the experience 
the feeling of dread 
or grief 
the feeling 
that we don't 
have control 
that society is 
a loose cannon 
being set up 
and fired off 
by warriors 
from a different time 
a different mind-set 
a mentality driven 
by half daft demons 
that will set 
the world a blaze 
because they don't know 
anything else 
fear of the unknown 
fear of what they know 
they don't know 
and persecute beliefs 
that don't bend 
at their will 
or won't acknowledge 
the legitimacy 
of anger 
and rage 
the PC terms 
being thrown around 
like some deflated football 
regulation zero
high strung 
tempter tantrums 
at the end of the day 
it is what it is 
sugar coated 
dressed up or down 
educated or illiterate 
the common thread 
is the hate 
that is spread 
with a few choice 
words
you can call me 
dago, 
nigger, 
jew, 
spic, 
dahati, 
headbangers, 
faggot...etc
but the real truth is 
I am OK with who I am...I pose the question...are you?

© 2015 TrilbyYates 

Cried A Little

He said he knew
and he finally understood 
it was as if a light bulb 
went off
a flash of knowledge 
and he cried just a little 
from the sudden escape 
of air that surrounded him 
he closed his eyes 
and cried just a little 
when the knowledge 
poured into him
...because he knew 
he would never
except 
being a black man 
in America 
if it meant 
he would never 
be number one 
and as they tried 
to rise above him
cuffed his hands 
behind his back 
his defenses went up 
and his guard 
went down 
- and he cried 
just a little 
as they pushed his face 
into the ground 
but he knew 
and he finally understood
it was as if a light bulb 
went off
a flash of knowledge 
- and he cried 
just a little 
as he raised 
his head
eyes wide
filled with compassion
filled with pride
because he knew 
he had truly won...

© 2015 TrilbyYates

Above The Wires And Tree Line

I live in a little one dimensional upper income coastal town in lower Connecticut. From my second floor bedroom window...sitting high above the wires and tree line, I can look out onto the Saugatuck River that feeds into the Long Island Sound that feeds into the Atlantic Ocean. Life to some, outside of this quaint hamlet, see a slice of heaven, a piece of the American dream - To some, it appears on the surface, a safe haven, untouchable to anyone that lives and breathes below the wires and tree line - just one town over.

I don't blame "God" for the violent acts we commit against one another. I mull them over. I dream about them. I absorb the painful images and find myself tear soaked, questioning my own sense of reality and the powers of the universe. The questions I pose bounce off the white walls of my bedroom; they bounce off the high walls of a predominately white community with or without some sense of consciousness. 

I find myself shaking my head, mimicking the act of shaking a rattle to soothe a child, hoping to fall into a deep dream-able sleep...but no one is sleeping peacefully. 

I shake the cobwebs from my thoughts to clear a path, to find a way, to find a thread, a silver lining that is somehow attached to the last remaining bit of fucking hope and fucking optimism that I can barely manage to hang onto - trying to remain optimistic and loyal to the belief that we are innately a loving species. We don't eat our young or kill our lovers after mating. We don't take our old and our sick and send them out into the wilderness to die alone; we are a compassionate people - aren't we?

I look out above the wires and tree line and wonder how a person could take their fist and beat it into the flesh of another person with such force that the wounds from a single blow, a single moment in time, that split second could spill more than their blood and scar more than their body - but also the soul; altering a life's path and journey for generations to come. 

I look out above the wires and tree line and can't fathom what transpires between a white person and a black person that is so vile and explosive that it shatters a life, a family, a community, a race. And on some abstract level there is an attempt by those to justify away the hatred because of their juxtaposed positions in life and/or the color of someone’s skin.

I look out above the wires and tree line and I'm stupefied by the inequality of one person to another simply because of gender. That some misogynist with a deeply rooted angst or some other self-loathing can and will project their need for control onto an entire species. Treat your children well; the past has the power to send the future into Hell as the wounded child in us leads the way.

I look out above the wires and tree line and on bended knee I pray that the savage senseless murders taking place in the world will stop – stop! Stop because at the end of the day it doesn't matter what God you pray to or what entity you believe in; it is how we live our lives...isn't it? Isn't that what we are judged by when we take our last breath - if we believe in something...or not; but are faithful to that belief?

There are times when I can hear the outrage and the gasps, but I don't hear a solution or feel a softness in a community’s reaction. I don't hear empathy in their voices. I don't see positive actions being taken to change the emotional drain we inflict on a daily basis. 

We cry and we mourn. 

We scream, raising our hands to the heavens in anger each time we hear about a child or woman being abused. 

We march for the sake of our brothers and sisters of color and those that love one another of the same gender. 

We march and parade carrying banners and we light candles; a symbolic memorial for those taken - by friend or foe... 

We place flowers and leave notes scratched in the dirt, soaked in the blood of those we view as somehow less fortunate than we are - those that were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Those born…over there.

We pray and mourn not privately but under the microscope of social media. 

We continue to share the worst and hide the best and the cameras continue to roll and the questions continue to flow as the interviewer aims for high ratings and recognition; the human aspect is secondary...Emmy glistening in the distance. 

We watch the 6 o'clock news as events are sensationalized – your life in ninety second sound bites and we become more and more desensitized. 

We stand solid within the parameters of our societal moral compass but we don't fucking remember what it feels like to truly grieve - to truly feel the loss. 

We see images of mothers and fathers weeping at the loss of a child; and the long lens of the world looking on, dissecting, projecting - we are waiting for a real tear to fall, waiting for a real trembling lip - some sign that what we are watching is real pain and sorrow – 

We don’t recall authenticity, we don’t recognize it any longer. We step back and we don't believe it's sincere. We don't believe they are truly honest in their suffering. We can't believe because we have become skeptical and prejudice. Who is the perpetrator? Who is the victim? 

We question quietly because we have become immune and forgetful - to our own humanity 

And do we even care...

...sitting high above the wires and tree line, I can look out onto the Saugatuck River that feeds into the Long Island Sound that feeds into the Atlantic Ocean. Life to some, outside of this quaint hamlet, see a slice of heaven, a piece of the American dream - To some, it appears on the surface, a safe haven, untouchable to anyone that lives and breathes below the wires and tree line - just one town over.

© 2015 TrilbyYates