4 YEARS WITHOUT MY CITY(written Sept.12,2005

Okay.

So it's been 4 years without my city.
I only know it's been 4 years because that's what all the news shows and reports say.If i had 2 go go by FEELING,i wouldn't know how long it's been.Beacuse at the same time..it feels like 4ever AND at the SAME time it STILL feels completely unreal,false,like there really still is the littlest chance that SOMEHOW,SOMEWAY it HASN'T REALLY HAPPENED.Somehow something has just gone very wrong temporarily,and it's all somehow just gonna b found 2b some kind of clossal mistake,and we can all b okay again.We don't really have 2 strecth our heads around something that still sticks in the throat of understanding.
But,strange as it is,no matter how littl;e understanding i can STILL have-it doesn't matter..the 'reality' goes on unabated,without my full understanding.
So i wonder if there's anybody else who STILL can't grasp it in the same way i can't.I wonder if mayb i shouldn't really just b okay with it by now.

LAST SUNDAY OF THE SUMMER 2005

Okay.

This one even had kites in the sky, folks.
The simplicity of the wind, atop of the slope of a hillside.
Unbelievably perfect prerequisite pluffly white clouds, as if placed in a child's' diorama...
The sun, warm enuff 4 a kiss, cool enuff 4 a smile
The life of a family, enjoying its unity.
There was this perfect guy.., and i (!) got 2 spend the day with him!
Peaceful couplings spotted the open meadows, as far as the eye could see.. in every direction.
Communities of bonds stronger than blood.
And single peoples happy within themselves, happy 2b by themselves, but with so many others...

AND I EVEN GOT MY VERY OWN POEM!
How much u wanna bet there was a population (conceptions) spike on Sunday, September 17,2005.
The last Sunday of the Summer.

SHAKE THE ANGER 1: A GULF OF 2 TOWERS

I'm STILL having 2 shake the anger from my body.
The more i learn the more i have 2 4get temporarily, push it out of my immediate mind...
I see Bush. I see Cheney. I see Rove. I see Rice.
And all i see is EVIL.

I think of the FIRST unknown brother, lost 2 "big diseease with a little name"
I FEEL my brother, lost, today.

I see thousands of people left behind.
Water as far as the eye can see.
I see a concentrated, incredibly pressurized crash-course microcosm of our treatment by the power establishment in this country.
Yea-sure-it DIDN'T happen because they were black, it happened because they were POOR and BLACK.


I see hatred SO perfect that people actually burn.., and fall 4ever...
I see a fucking truncated, broken, foriegn, and scraggly skyline.
I don't know what city that/this is.
MY city is now missing.., and i have 2 live HERE instead.
I see people left behind. In a pit in the ground.

WHAT I WANT(Much abridged...)

Okay.

[FULL DISCLOSURE : So, like...this was kinda written 2 b like, general..but, um..as it turns out...there is somebody whose face keeps getting put in the HIM spot in each of these. And he'll know who he is...]




I want 2 tell him all the dirt about an ex of mine that we run into one night when were together.

I want 2 make him spaghetti.

I want 2 hold him as he cries when we get back from the funeral of someone he knew his entire life (okay-well i don't WANT that.., but u know what i mean..)

I want his mother 2 know my name mayb.

I want 2 know his favorite ice cream so i can pick it up at Associated, if i'm doing the shopping 4 dinner that nite (unless of course we're doing well enuff 2 live by a Gristedes...!!!)

I want him 2 hate a favorite HBO show of mine, roll his eyes when it comes on as we're sitting on the couch, but sit there with me anyway.

I want 2 hate him 4 something he did, then melt when he tells me with tears in his eyes that he's sorry (IF he means it. He still gets no dick if i don't believe him yet.)

I want 2 turn 2 him and have a memory of the first trip we took 2gether.., all those years ago.

I can't wait 2 be inside him, and have it b FAMILIAR.

And when i REALLY stretch the vision of my minds eye... and am TOTALLY honest with myself...i think that it will b amazing 2 watch him with OUR SON.

HOW 2 PRACTICE EVIL (and get away with it)

By Condoleezza Rice, Donald Rumsfeld, and Karl Rove


1.Tell BOLDFACE lies with an absolutely straight face. Repeat if necessary. [See also #2]

2.Switch it up sometimes. Instead of an OUTRIGHT LIE, tell a 'version' of the truth with whatever OMISSIONS are advantageous at the time.

3.DISTRACTION. (I.E. If 11 of the 12 so called 9/11 bombers are from Saudi Arabia, 'discover' weapons of mass destruction in Iraq.)

4.OVERSIMPLIFY. Dumb-down, dumb-down, dumb-down-every argument u want people 2 swallow, 2 a ridiculous extreme. ("Your either 4 us or against us").

5.Think only in the short term. Adapt ONLY short term, stopgap, or temporary solutions. (Be sure 2 lie about it, and say it'll have 'long-term benefits', when asked.)

6.Clothe everything in the fine linen of 'God', 'Christianity', or 'America'.

7.Peddle fear.

8.Create evil doing 'boogey-men'. Especially effective if they have brown or olive skin color.

9. Protect the profit margin of the most entrenched, old powerbase (Banking/Financial-Oil/Energy-Defense/Law Enforcement).

10.Make ANY dissension seem somehow dangerous, traitorous, or irresponsible.


[-2 b con't..]

APOLOGIES ARE IN ORDER.

For Mary G., Hector R., and H.R.
(In random order)

I'm sorry if, at the end, my uncle seemed a little bit like he just wanted u gone. I know u know how hard and complicated the feelings involved in being a long-time caretaker can be. And i know u know how much he ABSOLUTELY loved u. And i'm sorry i wasn't there 2 help him.

I'm sorry i wasn't mature, enlightened, or kind enuff 2 pay attention when u asked me 2 come 'see u one last time'. I'm sorry i thought u were being melodramatic (u could b at times, funny that we'd talked about that, huh...). I'm sorry i wasn't ready 2 think about the implications of that statement. At the time, i didn't have the moral, spiritual, or emotional strength 2 think about u really NOT being around.

I'm sorry that ur family wasn't at the funeral. I'm sorry that i don't know why.

I'm sorry my mother wouldn't let u adapt me. But glad that u told me that that was why, when i later asked why u never did.

I'm sorry i didn't have the courage 2 sing u the Irish lullaby u used 2 sing 2 me when u were drunk, when i was a kid, as u were leaving us. But so glad i WAS there.

I'm sorry that i was SO small, scared and obtuse at the time, that i took the out u gave me (God BLESS u, u ALWAYS were a thoughtful lil' mutherfucker.... smile), in not mentioning ur being in a wheelchair DIRECTLY. U were thinking about me even then weren't u?

I'm sorry u never got 2 c me with one of my really good boyfriends (wouldn't have subjected u 2 the shitty ones.)

I'm sorry i didn't recognize that i WAS ur SON.

I'm sorry my uncle moved his first wife in so soon after u were gone.

I'm sorry i haven't yet been back 2 where ur body now rests.

I'm sorry i don't know where ur body rests.

I'm sorry if it ever pained u that even tho u cooked 4 me and fed me, taught me 2 read, held me when was i was scared, and sang "Frankie and Johnny" 2 me as a lullaby, i still only wanted 2 know when was my mother was going 2 come get me.

I'm sorry i fell in love with some1 else b4 i realized just how much u loved me. I'm sorry i had 2 find out u were no longer here from some trick we had in common.

I'm sorry it took me SO LONG 2 forgive us 4 what we ABSOLUTELY HAD 2 DO at the time. Then, and even now-in hindsight, no matter how it FELT-there really was NO other choice. I'm sorry u didn't let me help u afterwards. And yeah, i DO know he or she'd b about 17 or 18 now...wow.



I'm sorry that mayb none of THIS means SHYT. When u fuck up on someone who then dies-there's no heart-warming touchy feely, all-is-right-again resolution in the last half-hour of the movie. FUCK U Sylvia ?, and (that guy who used 2 have his own show) U can never do right by that person again. And i am SO sorry.