Aw Shucks! Ya think it is over. How great are the
      Final remnants of the MAGA false tales. As
  The Sun sets over the gleaming white structures
        And the seams of destruction collapse.

    The seditious activity screaming up the stairs
   Into the hollow chambers so secreted even the
       Good citizenry cannot penetrate its doors.

    Aw shucks! The villainous souls came. Bursting
Through the windows- the doors dancing in the open
   Areas of the protectors as they trekked through
  The hallow hall into the secret rooms of the deed
      Doers. As though they were in the confines
                         of their Homes.

  Aw Shucks! Ya think it is over. How great are the
       Final remnants of the MAGA false tales. As
  The sun sets over the gleaming white structures
         And the seams of destruction collapse.
              Wait until the sun comes up...!

(C)2021 “AW SHUCKS”-Paul S Hickman-ll Rights Reserved

I am not a Bullets Prize
If you see me on the street...
Mindin’ my own business
Just tryin’ to live my struggles
Don’t eye me as a victim
Don’t faze out into paranoia
My wings have already been clipped
My vision wears contact lenses
There are burlap bags of refuge
Invisibly clinging to my dusky back
I don’t wear a bullet proof vest
Superman doesn’t live in my breast
If you see me on the street
Tryin’ to make some time
Going on my merry way
Why stop my innocent travels?
Is the word enemy written
Tattooed on my forehead
Does my presence threaten
Offend your noble sensibilities
Are you frightened by my appearance
Does it awaken disgust or despair
Is my present life of no value
Or do you not even care
If you see me on the street
Just remember this
My mother didn’t raise me to be no bullets prize.

Copyright@ All rights reserved
Camille Elaine Thomas, 2016, 2021

What was there yesterday is no longer.
      With time eclipsing, the days, the weeks, the months, now
          The years. All is fading into what?

No longer as exciting, as it was in the yesteryear's. Now- filled
      With suspicion, mistrust, in the halls of the new beginning.
            Revealing unfulfilled dreams.

Erstwhile needing to be remembered for the future. The dreams were a
    Glowing glimpse of what could have been- now, they fade.

Melting, slipping into worlds of others. While snow and fires
    Cress the day, as noise ring into the ears,
          We stand waiting....

Copyright © 2020 - Paul Simpson Hickman - All Rights Reserved

New Year's poem 2021

https://youtu.be/vsczNJ6bcxQ

       The way God brings injustice to the surface.
       As the virus swirls into the core of the world.
                    We huddle in our homes.

Reviewing the martyring of one-before our very eyes.
 Seeing for ourselves the vile deed doers of America.

   Now-to cleanse the disease from the ranks of the
 American Culture. While some shudder at the fear of
   Their ending of a place Not destined to be theirs.

    Out into the streets into the mist of the virus of
 disease and hatred. Under the Protection of God-moving
                    The time past 400+ years.

 Into a clear meadow of Spirituality and Brotherly love.
                    Get up-Do something!

     Away! Away! You vile deed doers Away! Away!

(c) 2020 “GET UP -DO SOMETHING” by Paul S. Hickman - All Rights Reserved

Ever seen a catfish or a carp flopping on the water-less grass.
Huffing and puffing for air for the water to be purified through
Their gills into their lungs.

Some men are like the catfish and the carp. Flopping in earthly zones
Beyond their reach.

Yet trying to lie on a fruitless surface made of stone and soil.
Constricted by their own failure to swim in waters far from the snares
Of the fisherman's hook.

As the hook tears into their mouth and holding on tight with only two
Ways to freedom. One by the hand of a gifted man. And the other by
Tearing the flesh and breaking free with excruciating pain.

Diving back into the water into freedom from the hook of man.
But- so many end up in a place of not returning to their former life's
Trail of their destiny.

(c) 2020 “Ever Seen A Catfish or Carp” by Paul S. Hickman - All Rights Reserved

Worrisome days pass
As do troublesome nights
Like fallen autumn leaves
And hungry birds in flight

The ducks will always find
A safe place to nest
While shoppers with masks
Rush on their way to rest

The water flows gently
The dike full of walkers
That stumble along nimbly
Amidst the cheerful talkers

The north wind blows
The ships all lie still
Dusk falls with no warning
As I slowly bike downhill

I see an old man staring
At some park’s gravestones
Appearing somehow pensive
Looking so all alone

I think about the winter
And remember last fall
Another day almost over
Yet I worry not at all

Still glad to be alive
To enjoy another day
To reflect again the seasons
And bike a new pathway

Camille Elaine Thomas
December 17, 2020

I took a breath today.

I realize I haven’t done that lately
Not in quite the same way
But today

I took a breath.

Today, hope replaced dread
Anticipation replaced anxiety
A sense of progress replaced the surety of the usual daily briefing
of regression

Today I breathed.

I sighed relief for all the work we’ve all put in
And thought with pride
Of who all placed their skin
In the game of democracy

             We tried the system
                           We tested it
                                        And we won

So I took a breath.

And momentarily mourned
All the relationships I lost
Once truth became too much
All the anger I’ve held in my back
All the sorrow of friend after breathless friend
Victims of hubris, of freedom that overstepped
All the lines people crossed in their boldness
              Lines in the sand
                           Lines water couldn’t wash clean
And I sighed
And welcomed back all that can start again
Now that it’s over

I’ll sit in this breath

Just for a little while
Before we inhale collectively
And exhale through the labor of
Accountability

But not today

Today I danced
Today I smiled
Today I laughed
Today I pondered
Today I reveled
Today I rested

I took a breath today.

Jasmine Cochran

November 7, 2020

A Voter's Sonnet