From the desk of Sage Sweetwater sending out a message to the ones who hate candlemakers for giving Light to dark souls.
The Ones Who Hate
the ones who hate
the street people that
are homeless,
the ones who hate
the hoboes that still
live under bridges by
the railroad track,
the ones who hate
blacks,
the ones who hate
Christians,
the ones who hate
candlemakers for giving
Light to dark souls,
the ones who hate
Pagans,
the ones who hate
rap, Hip-Hop, and psychedelic
grass-smoking hippies that make
our lives better through the eyes of
the lava lamp, tie-dye, beaded curtains,
the peace sign, the ecology sign and the
volkswagon bus,
the ones who hate
the shape of John Lennon's
spectacles,
the ones who hate
Yoko Ono,
the ones who hate
karaoke,
the ones who hate
the Jews,
the ones who hate
the wonderful theory
of Evolution,
the ones who hate
Steve Erkel,
the ones who hate
Neiman-Marcus,
the ones who hate
wet cement,
the ones who hate
gays,
the ones who hate
goat ropers,
the ones who hate
lip piercings,
the ones who hate
women of intelligence,
the ones who hate
just to hate...
Copyright 1/27/2008 Ms. Sage Sweetwater,
firebrand lesbian novelist
42 years later
The Brand
We were kids
in
1963,
it was
Ricki Jo an'
me
sippin'
cherry cokes
at Potter's Pharmacy.
"Ricki Jo, why
do they
hate,
"Ricki Jo, why
do they
discriminate?
"Ricky Joe, why
can't they see
what they
do?"
Peg-leg came
beggin'
in the
pharmacy,
he had no
money for
the
cure,
his stub pain
was for
sure.
He lost
his leg
hoppin'
the morning
train,
he slept
out in
the evening
rain,
he drank
Thunderbird
from a
brown paper
sack,
he lived with
hobos
beside the
railroad
track.
Townfolk kicked
at his homemade
wooden
leg,
kids shot
spit wads
at his
social outcast
peg.
"Ricki Jo, why
do they
hate,
"Ricki Jo, why
do they
discriminate
"Ricki Jo, why
can't they see
what
they do
"Ricki Jo, aren't
you glad
it's not
you?"
42 years
later,
it's still the
same,
do people
have no
shame?
It's Ricki Jo
an'
me
sippin' draft
beer
at
Potter's Pub,
formerly known
as
Potter's
Pharmacy.
We have
no money
for the
cure,
Ricki Jo's
face
pain
is for
sure.
She lost
flesh off
her throat
an'
face
for being
from
the
gay
race.
hate crime
breaking
law
cost her
handsome
jaw.
They held
a
branding
iron to
her
jaw,
an' burned
her vocal
cords silent
an'
raw.
People point
an'
stare,
we're not
welcome
anywhere,
it's just
not
fair.
"Ricki Jo, why
do they
hate
"Ricki Jo, why
do they
discriminate
"Ricki Jo, why
can't they
see what
they
do?
Ricki Jo,
I'm sorry
it's
you.
Copyright 2005 Sage Sweetwater, firebrand lesbian novelist
The Day the Word Nigger
Entered My Life
by
Aberjhani
http://www.authorsden.com/visit/viewarticle.asp?AuthorID=25279&id=32900
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Broke as I am, I just bought Mr. A.'s little poetry book: "The Bridge of Silver..." Man, I'm almost ashamed to write poetry, he's that good and he plans everything like a symphony...
The more I read of you the more I discover incredible mysterious treasures just tossed into your pile of poetic belongings...
But you know: that happens with the "real" genius types (even one like you who is so cool with (S)elf Ad-ver-(en)tice-ment)
Do you have a poetry book published?
Later, michael (My music arranging has been suffering with all this net stuff)
All the best, *Glen*
So, until I can work that out, I'll just keep visiting your original postings and nodding my head in agreement. We a twosome, my dear.
Richard
(((HUGS))) and much love, your friend in Tx., Karen Lynn. :D
Hope you are well; blessed be! :)
(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.