Listening to Zach Strum (poem, anecdote)

Skip

Skip Skips

Ping...
 piiiiiiing

Twong twanta twaaa
ah ah ah
skwab babo babo babo

tippa tippa tappy

pap papta pap pappee-ee-eeeee

dwonga-dwongee-dwongo-dwango-doo
chip-chapity choo, cha choo choo ooh

oooh  oooh

choooose

You.

Note From a Wealthy White Man (poem, thought)

Expectations. Deviations. Revelations.
     Fear.

What can one man do against such reckless hate?
How can I combat the predispositions of fate?

I love my friends... their foibles and flaws.
The bigots, the fools, the clowns,
...I pause.

Me. Given: everything. A pile of money,
a wealthy neighborhood, intelligence, prowess,
and desire for good.

Racism? Sexism? This-ism? That-ism?
Which-ism? What-ism? Class-ism.
Fascism. Fashion-ism. Fashism.

ARE TOTALLY OH-FUCKING-KAY

IF you remove the connotation of bigotry.

Bigotry is the issue here, wanting to be good
by pushing others down.
A depressed notion, 'me getting greater is to push others down.'

If you target white men as the devil, the good ones of us will fear saying anything.
Do you think policy will change this nonsense?
--
Yes, I have power, I'm so damn lucky that I can hardly believe it.

Open you ears, don't look away, face your fears, because: you can't push your problems away.

Another Fall's End (Poem)

Wandering Wind wonders, "Loose leaves left?"
Green's gone, yellow saunters, Red's crusting.
Passively, Wind ponders its reapings and thefts.
Once a canopy's now's a carpet: dreadfully dirty and dusting.

Yellow considers, contemplates and fears:
absorption to the soil, worms, ants, and bugs;
Can no longer see the faces of his peers...
Will no longer get the satisfaction of touches and hugs.

Green danced through a windy maelstrom,
beautiful to watch, Yellow oohed and awed her grace:
eventually penetrated-ripped by Fury Hail-storm.
She wisped Red, who never gave her embrace.

When Wind wailed, he watched her fall.
Whistling Wind didn't defeat him in belching blasts.
But the hole-ly lass looked frightened and small.
In the calm of calamity, he'd join her at last.

Wrinkled brown he descended to the defeated;
slowly drifting and willing they touch.
...So close to where she slumped seated.
Would she understand that he needed her so much?

They embraced around a seed, certain of their demise.
In the toil for each other's warmth, came a sprouting surprise.