By Dwain Wellington Rattray
Pride Contributing Editor
Roses aren’t always red,
Violets aren’t only one shade of blue
And monsters lurking in the dark
Live in the real world hiding in plain sight.
Who can understand the mysteries of the dead walking among us
As we lather ourselves in wanton excess?
Soft hands soiled by our collective silence,
We are oblivious to the emptiness in our own souls –
Ignoring the gnawing pain of longing etched on the tired faces of the invisible,
Pressed against the filthy glass of capitalism and transparent nonchalance.
Crimson velvet petals bruise fingers calloused by thorns
disguised as smiles from perfunctory benefactors,
While cold cobalt slop is served to a people clothed in
Ignorance of self and forced to fight inner demons inherited
From economically enslaved patriarchs and prostituted matriarchs.
Fresh from forced golden showers,
The invisible take one step – unsure of the next –
Selling soul and self in often futile efforts to save sanity.
Silent screams echo in the caverns that is the plutocrats’ safety –
Liberal and conservative conserving liberally for their own emptiness.
Adorned with flowers harvested from the crypts of the undead
Charlatans and hypocrites become revealed
As the saccharine stench of bias and disenfranchisement
Can no longer be decorated with platitudes spewed by forked tongues
And the light cast by beguiling eyes betrays to those willing to see.
But closed lips complain in the safety of anonymity
In unison with ears conveniently clogged by the cacophony of carrions
Clamoring for the carcass of the countless un-named.
The inconsequential invisible do not warrant more than cursory
Glances from those of us blinded by our own blindness.
Root out then bright gardens surrounded by stark concrete
If they cast a shadow too dark to reveal the dim emotions
and unspoken dreams of boys and girls
Who will grow to maturity watered by salty fluid
From eyelids quivering in pain and fear and hate.
Plant roots gleaned from ancient texts
And fill empty bellies with purpose and promise;
Fill empty hands with ink and paint,
Decorate stark walls with parchment,
Build the unseen for the salvation of the invisible.
Image by Tamara Nikić.