This is not the same sound
that gets played every day.
Open your minds,
and hear what I’ve got to say.

If you listen to these words,
you’ll hear a voice you’ve never heard,
tho’ it’s been in your head
from the time of your birth,
and every single second
that you’ve walked on this earth.

The noise that’s been bombarding you
may have drowned it out.
But if you turn down the volume,
you will hear it shout.

“I am the slave ship survivor
at the root of your family tree.
My strength and my courage
flows strong to you from me.

Death was all around me
in the bowels of that stinking ship.
But I held tight to life,
while others let it slip.

Tho’ you may not know my name,
the fire of my soul
courses thru your veins.
Un-extinguished by the brutality
of four barbaric centuries,
this enduring determination,
passed down thru the generations,
to find a way thru each cruel day
is my precious gift to you
to fight oppressions old and new.

I survived so you could thrive
in the land of the free.
How will you honor my legacy?”

Now hear the ancestor’s voice,
and remember you have a choice
to live with strength and dignity
or enslave your mind in the poverty
of ignorance and hopelessness,
believing wrongly you have less
than what it takes to reach success.

Remember those who came before,
and know that in your blood runs more
resilience and resistance-
Even when life’s hardness overwhelms, just be persistent.

Remember you are not alone.
In the core of every cell and bone
they reside to help you rise
above self-doubt and realize
you have the power to overcome
when you honor the past from which you’ve come.

They survived so you could thrive
in the land of the free.
How will you honor their legacy?

Genius is born in all kinds of places,
in African, Asian, American faces.
In Europe among both rich and poor
it doesn’t just come to those who have more
money for teachers, tutors and schools
which prime their pupils with the proper tools
to soar into places, wielding power and clout,
while a humbler genius is simply shut out.

Genius takes root in every land,
in Bosnia, Brazil or in the Sudan.
In the midst of misery, famine and war,
it waits for someone to open a door.
For within the walls of poverty,
lie the glimmers of great possibility.

Bright-eyed baby in a mud brick home,
no heat, no light, no telephone,
warms hope-starved souls with her silent smile,
for they see something special in this child.

As she grows and blossoms with each passing day,
she clearly sees the world in a different way.
She finds patterns in numbers no others can see,
Elaborate lines of geometry
emerge in the sand under her careful hand
which no one in her village can understand.

On every test she surpasses the rest,
Her teachers know she is clearly the best.
Her questions reveal an inquisitive mind
that reaches for answers few people can find.

She dreams to soar above her poverty,
but her wings are clipped by reality,
as machete-armed soldiers storm into her world
slashing short the bright future of one little girl.

Genius dies quietly in so many places,
a withering sea of white, black and brown faces.
Though genius sprouts often, it rarely is found,
Eternally silenced, buried deep underground
in woods, in fields, in rivers, mass graves,
on migrant farms where kids work like slaves.
Genius ground down to dust in the mills,
in sweat shops, where hope and ambition is killed.
Not nurtured, nor noticed, never known to exist.
A child has died.  What did the world miss?

An answer to cancer? Exquisite work of art?
A leader who inspires nations to start
searching for solutions that lead to resolutions,
building hope and replacing disillusion?

Answers to questions no one will ever know
as long as senseless death tolls continue to grow.
Whatever it takes, we each must decide
how to help, heal, guide or provide
a piece of hope, no matter how small,
for our world’s future depends on us all.

 

 

Oh God, I know I feel it coming!
Pants bust loose and stomach bulging
over Jeans- they’re way too tight
to hide a waist that wins the fight

and spills out, fat before the world,
proclaiming pound cake and cheese curls.
I say that this is THE last straw.
I’ll build a bod’ without a flaw.

No more cupcakes or double fudge bars.
Out with chips and cookie jars.
I’ll shun the tempting tastes of sweets,
cherry cheesecake and other treats.

Starting NOW, I refuse to eat
that luscious junk, vow not to cheat.
NO, not one crumb will touch my lips,
NO, not one eensy Hershey’s kiss!

I’ll do it now, there is no doubt,
I’ve got the strength, the will, the clout
to firmly check that greedy finger
that reaches for a crème-filled Zinger.

No problem now, I’ll just be strong.
Skip those treats and I won’t go wrong.
For tons of Twinkies will enlarge my girth,
But,
Surely now…
Just one
won’t hurt?