Gutlessly gated
far away from the one race they’ve relentlessly ducked and evaded,
they orchestrate their systemic demise under the ghastly guise
that they’re simply “just living out their lives,”
having even the luxury of not being inconvenienced by guilt
in looking their generations dead in the eye
to lie 
when telling them they honorably “made it.”
Despite despicable ways,
I curse them not.
For, the predictable view I gaze upon every evening walk
is one frequently accompanied by Love Field’s 737 roar, overhead, and my nightly, nobly wicked plot,
to land 
wifey, kids, fam, and the friends 
into that gallingly guarded and, yet, gallantly gleaming structure.
I speak of the space, for the purpose putting lightyears between black, they so ferociously sought.
Though, I desire nothing of the nightly white lines, 
a life bearing a back of protruding reptilian spines,
a mind frame so fixated on other pale Joneses where any progress they make sends my heart to pickle in the sea of brine,
or a household where Eyes Wide Shut principles stand dandy and fine. 
Nothing of the sort with find comfort on my lot. 
I conspire and aspire to and will inhabit such as fine space
without engaging in soul rot.

From the Soul,     

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This piece will be featured in my 4th upcoming published book, “Return from The Pale Trail: Gifts of Humanity & of the Wild We’ve Been Taught to Forget”. It will be released in Fall 2021. Be on the lookout for updates, and, in the meantime, check out my other published works on Amazon.