Let America be America Again- Langston Hughes

Let America be America Again Let America be America again. Let it be the dream it used to be. Let it be the pioneer on the plain Seeking a home where he himself is free. (America never was America to me.) Let America be the dream the dreamers dreamed-- Let it be that great strong land of love Where never kings connive nor tyrants scheme That any man be crushed by one above. (It never was America to me.) O, let my land be a land where Liberty Is crowned with no false patriotic wreath, But opportunity is real, and life is free, Equality is in the air we breathe. (There's never been equality for me, Nor freedom in this "homeland of the free.") Say, who are you that mumbles in the dark?  And who are you that draws your veil across the stars? I am the poor white, fooled and pushed apart, I am the Negro bearing slavery's scars. I am the red man driven from the land, I am the immigrant clutching the hope I seek-- And finding only the same old stupid plan Of dog eat dog, of mighty crush the weak. I am the young man, full of strength and hope, Tangled in that ancient endless chain Of profit, power, gain, of grab the land! Of grab the gold! Of grab the ways of satisfying need! Of work the men! Of take the pay! Of owning everything for one's own greed! I am the farmer, bondsman to the soil. I am the worker sold to the machine. I am the Negro, servant to you all. I am the people, humble, hungry, mean-- Hungry yet today despite the dream. Beaten yet today--O, Pioneers! I am the man who never got ahead, The poorest worker bartered through the years. Yet I'm the one who dreamt our basic dream In the Old World while still a serf of kings, Who dreamt a dream so strong, so brave, so true, That even yet its mighty daring sings In every brick and stone, in every furrow turned That's made America the land it has become. O, I'm the man who sailed those early seas In search of what I meant to be my home-- For I'm the one who left dark Ireland's shore, And Poland's plain, and England's grassy lea, And torn from Black Africa's strand I came To build a "homeland of the free." The free? Who said the free? Not me? Surely not me? The millions on relief today? The millions shot down when we strike? The millions who have nothing for our pay? For all the dreams we've dreamed And all the songs we've sung And all the hopes we've held And all the flags we've hung, The millions who have nothing for our pay-- Except the dream that's almost dead today. O, let America be America again-- The land that never has been yet-- And yet must be--the land where every man is free. The land that's mine--the poor man's, Indian's, Negro's, ME-- Who made America, Whose sweat and blood, whose faith and pain, Whose hand at the foundry, whose plow in the rain, Must bring back our mighty dream again. Sure, call me any ugly name you choose-- The steel of freedom does not stain. From those who live like leeches on the people's lives, We must take back our land again, America! O, yes, I say it plain, America never was America to me, And yet I swear this oath-- America will be! Out of the rack and ruin of our gangster death, The rape and rot of graft, and stealth, and lies, We, the people, must redeem The land, the mines, the plants, the rivers. The mountains and the endless plain-- All, all the stretch of these great green states-- And make America again!  Langston Hughes

Goodbye to These

Saying no to you

Is saying goodbye to these.

My letters are magnetic,

and without some opposite 

they couldn't be bothered

to leave their beds. 

The Alarm-

It is knocked from its place 

on the stand 

next to 'T'

The sheets are pulled tight

To hide the eyes of 'C'.

Just another hour.

And 'M' invests

In black out curtains.

It'd be nice,

To give it up.

But I am only being realistic,

And these letters 

Don't type themselves.

YET TO BE TITLED

The sun comes to light the fire that is life, but just as the dawn is still cold while the sun is visible, life is fleeting and the cooler part of the day had appeared before a young boy, Desmond, wrapped in his brothers coat- denying what he felt. The end.

Desmond's older brother Benjamin had carried his wounded kin 6 miles up the Kern river before he had to stop for rest. Benjamin knew there was a town north of where they had been panning. Young Desmond, 10 years old, had been bitten by a snake earlier in the day and the poison he had absorbed was charging rapidly throughout his body. It seemed as-though every natural function had begun to fail. Some were gone. 

His senses  had begun to fail in a sort of rhythm. At the two mile marker Young Desmond lost his sight. His eyes had swollen to a point of shutting and tears poured endlessly from the red irritated mass. He had lost use of his right leg completely only moments after the bite. The other followed suit and Benjamin was forced to hoist his brother- not a small child- onto his shoulder. By the time They traveled another mile or so, the poor boy's tongue had swollen so that his speech was nothing but muffled humming. Spitting. Another mile and his bowels were loosed upon both himself and his loving brother. At mile five Desmond's temperature dropped with the temperature of the evening and his body made no attempt at warming itself. It was cold but it was also California. The boys had experienced far worse conditions before traveling westward. Regardless the temperature proved to be a hazard to young Desmond's health. Benjamin pushed on another mile and with the last of his strength lowered his brother onto a mound of leaves beside the clearing in which they had stopped.

'If you can here me Des I'm gonna wrap you up and you need to try and get some sleep. I cant walk any further my back is crooked and my knees swollen.' Benjamin said kneeling over a nearly comatose Desmond. Ben then removed his  long coat and blanketed his brother.

Desmond heard nothing only the squeaking of air escaping the swollen bits clinging to his skull. He sleeps.

Benjamin began work on a fire which was a simple task with matches handy. He warmed himself for a moment and laid down. The sky was clear and his view of the stars- perfectly framed by the branches what hung above the clearing, taunted him. Ben starred upward as his eyes jumped franticly from star to star. This was unusual, for Benjamin was fairly well versed in the shapes and order of the Cosmos- but fear for his brother had scattered his reason. Ben was faced with a sea of black and white chaos- no form- no order. He shut his eyes to hide. He sleeps.

Without any prompt other than his sense of responsibility for his own brother's life, Benjamin shot awake- dead of night- and knew they had to make it to this town quick. He lifted his worn arms and planted his hands on the ground to thrust his torso and shattered back upward. He stood and everything snapped and cracked. Still wrapped in the jacket, Desmond felt his brother heave him off the floor. He could feel his brother's arms shaking. A swing and he was back on Ben's shoulder. 

Benjamin, with Desmond's two legs hanging out in front of him, noticed the tear where the snake had bitten through the boy's pant leg. 'I should check the wound' Ben thought as he reached with his free left hand to lift the clothing out of the way.' Jesus' He said aloud. It was as if the boy had a second knee near his ankle. The area had swollen and changed in color so much it hardly looked like something a human could carry. Produce. He covered the mess again.

It was another mile before the town was visible. A few fires still burned though it was late and this gave ben hope. He hurried down the hillside they had crested- toward the town. Careful not to harm Desmond but swiftly hopping from safe landing spot to safe landing spot, it took no time at all to reach the bottom. They raced into town.

The buildings were all dormant except for two windows above a feed store. Inside a lamp flickered and beckoned Ben's heart to tremble with hope. He approached the door and began to knock.

'Hey! inside! We need a doctor! my brothers been bit by a rattler!' He shouted up at the glowing windows. Ben began rapping on the door and repeating himself. ' We need a doctor!' adding 'Ill pay extra! Ill pay you to show me to him!'

The window swung open furiously and two ancient faces peaked out. A man and a woman. 'No need t'be hollerin' were still awake.' The man declared

'Were not that old' The woman muttered as she disappeared back into their home.

'Ill come down and let you in' The man said waving his hand top to bottom as if he was used to this sort of thing.

A moment passed and he swung open the front door. ' How long ago was he bit?' The man asked examining the boys ankle. He noticed it immediately. 

'Earlier today' Ben replied. ' Is there a Doctor here, at this hour who can help us?' 

'There is but never mind them, their crooks. In-cahoots with the crazy basterd whos been runnin this place the last few months. Come up stairs, My wife will tend to the boy. We had sons.'

The three of them disappeared into the dark feed store.

The Power of Faith-2- The Gospel

'What makes your heart shake Monk?' The Cardinal said from outside the monks quarters, with a firm and resonant voice. It reeked of suppressed anger. Its tone begged to be sincere but was borne of hatred. A hatred the Cardinal knew as direction. His purpose was his god.

The monk was shaken and his tears ceased to flow. Now it was fear.' Whats that?' He offerers. The door still closed.

'From what ocean do you draw the water for your tears Monk?' The Cardinal spoke louder than before as he began tapping his black knuckle on the wooden door.

'G-god's ocean!' The Wino replied jumping to his feet and scrambling to open the door. 

The door now being open the Wino was frozen by the sight of the Cardinal. The only light they shared other than a small candle at the Wino's bedside was a torch burning in the hallway directly behind this red and grinning holy ghoul. The black finger still hung between the two of them.

'And why would a god as pure as our own be so generous as to waste his valued seas on the tears of a drunk? Of a fool? Of a coward? Sit.' 

The finger rose to Direct the Monk.

Without any effort the Monk stepped back and lowered himself onto the edge of his bed. All the while not once pulling his eyes away from this perfectly black finger, now looking down at him.

'I've come to offer you a chance to hide yourself from god, and leave the monastery.' The Cardinal explained lowering his arm. He took a step into the small room.

'Oh no I truly and honestly wish to serve the lord! Really Im sorry for my-' The Monk pleaded, with hope in his eyes. He did not want to be cast aside, away from his god's comforting light.

' This is the only way you can serve your god my son.' The Cardinal said, his Face erupting into a sweet and gentle thing. He took two more steps and knelt before the Monk. They were now at eye level with one another. 'You see son, we are men of the faith, we want the same things.'

The Monk was at first disturbed by this sudden change in the Cardinal's demeanor but quickly began to feel some hope. Some chance. He smiled subtly.

' Now we both know you aren't the most productive Prayer, and it seems you take to the bottle far more often then you do to the scripture.' The Cardinal spoke with a hint of forgiveness.' You just aren't the sort of soul our god wishes to have carrying out his will. Do you see?'

'I see' the foolish and hopeful Monk replied, taking these words as gospel. This was coming from his god's messenger.

The Cardinal reached beneath his cape and produced a long narrow cylindrical dagger with a point on the end and no edge. Tears welled in the Monks eyes but he didn't fight it.' Hold your tears Monk, you musnt be greedy. Take this in your Hand and pull it inward. You will be forgiven and no longer upset your god. Our god.'

The monk reached out and grabbed the dagger. He shook all over. Handling the spike a moment he managed it into both his hands, with the tip leaning on his gut. ' This is what our god wishes?' He asked with a weak voice.

The Cardinal nods.

With the blessing of his god, the Monk plunged the dagger deep within making no sound. The Cardinal cupped the back of the Monk's head as he slowly fell backward. He bled all he could and was gone.

 When the breathing stopped the Cardinal's face returned to its sculpted and naturally cold form. After sliding his hand out from beneath the Wino's head he stood and looked upward. His eyes closed and he took a deep breath.

The Cardinal's mind buzzed with the energy of a god that can only be pleased by perfection.

He lets the breath out.

Balance.

The rest of the evening was spent by the fire. Stirring his jar of ink with his finger.

The Power of Faith-1- How to speak when spoken to.

'Should we double check it?' The fat wino belched from deep within his robes.

'It is the word of our God there will be no double checking' The stone faced Cardinal replied. Dipping his finger into the jar of ink on the desk before him- to the first bend. He looked into the eyes of the Wino.' Have you got any clue how disrespectful it is to revise these words? these are the words we live by. Without these words you are nothing, we are nothing. Do you suggest we shit on the prospect of our redemption? This is all there is.'

'But you've changed several-' The Wino began.

'I have changed nothing you waste!' The cardinal rose from his desk and bent over the portly- Monk, his finger dripping black.' I receive the very word of GOD YOU WASTE! I am a vessel- you are an ant. I have clarified you see. That is what you so dully mistake for change. Go to your quarters and wait. This will not be going unnoticed.'

The Wino turned without a word and exited. He hid his cowardly face until the door to his room was closed and promptly let fly the tears of his faith. A gesture to his God, he was sorry and dumb.

The Cardinal sat back in his chair and ran his finger across the parchment before him. The beginnings of a letter to the monks family. The draft was never finished- Just ended by his black trail. It was folded and sealed. The Cardinal used black wax and affixed a small black bow- beneath the wax as he pressed it on.

The Cardinal stood once more and gazed down the hall leading to his door. The black finger hung at his side.

Shake Me

In the morning

After everything

She's still beautiful 

And Im a coughing angry thing.

I've got to leave

But shell stay and sleep a while.

You've got to love a girl

Who sleeps like a stone.

I get away with kissing her forehead,

She doesn't budge.

I leave and dream all day.

If she had been awake

there would have been words-

Muddy like these,

But instead 

Its just a wide open mouth 

And rolled back eyes-

Breath like booze

And no voice to say

She didn't care.

When the Sun Comes Out

I've got to thank someone's god 

for giving me these little troubles,

Perfect for distracting me from the big ones.

The real ones.