Cube Head Assignment: Racism

I received this in an e-mail and since then ithas done nothing but been on my mind. I want you to read this statement and comment on it. Instead of doing it in the comment section please e-mail them to cubicle.reverend@gmail.com by July 2nd.

Does anyone have answers to these questions????

You pass me on the street and sneer in my direction.

You call me "Whiteboy," "Cracker," "Honkey," "Whitey," "Caveman" and that's OK.

But when I call you, nigger, Kike, Towelhead, Sand-nigger, Camel Jockey, Beaner, Gook, or Chink you call me a racist.

You say that whites commit a lot of violence against you, so why are the ghettos the most dangerous places to live?

You have the United Negro College Fund.
You have Martin Luther King Day.
You have Black History Month.
You have Cesar Chavez Day.
You have Yom Hashoah
You have Ma'uled Al-Nabi
You have the NAACP.
You have BET.

If we had WET(White Entertainment Television) we'd be racists.

If we had a White Pride Day you would call us racists.

If we had white history month, we'd be racists.

If we had an organization for only whites to "advance" our lives, we'd be racists.

If we had a college fund that only gave white students scholarships,you know we'd be racists.

There are over 60 openly proclaimed Black Colleges in the US, yet if there were "White colleges" that would be a racist college.

In the Million Man March, you believed that you were marching for your race and rights. If we marched for our race and rights, you would call us racists.

You are proud to be black, brown, yellow and orange, and you're not afraid to announce it. But when we announce our white pride, you call us racists.

You rob us, carjack us, and shoot at us. But, when a white police officer shoots a black gang member or beats up a black drug-dealer running from the law and posing a threat to society, you call him a racist.

I am proud. But, you call me a racist.

Why is it that only whites can be racists?

A Special Poetry Thursday: Happy Birthday Kristi

I know I post these things on wednesdays, but I am too busy on thursdays to do it. Give me a break ok? Besides, the fact I am doing it tonight gives me an opportunity to say happy birthday to a fellow cube head Kristi which leads into this weeks poem. I do not try to post my own poetry on this blog because I feel it is a tad self-indulgent since I pretty much write whatever I want on here and am already self-indulgent enough. But this is an exception. Several months ago I was talking to Kristi (who happens to be an incredible young woman) when I got inspired to write a poem. Here is a rough draft. I love the Gazal form. The short meditative lines. Each stanza being a seperate poem yet a part of the whole. It isn't titled yet and is still a work in progress. Here you go:

Known as the great mystery God is a wonder.
He understand the nature of dust, but does He ever wonder?

A child's eyes are purer than an adults.
The innoccent stare in wonder.

Man named the animals. God named teh stars. Man built
a tower to heaven. Who created the greater wonder?

If you make no promises except for trampled grass
then enjoy the possibility for another wonder.

But I stayed too long. I took my hat and coat,
sat on the front step. I lost my wonder.

Be kind, Kristi, while cooking with cinnamon.
The other spices are jealous of its wonder.

Happy B-day Kristi!

Bush Sings U2

There's nothing I can say about this except someone has waaaay too much free time on their hands.

George Bush sings Sunday, Bloody Sunday .

A Special Poetry Thursday

Donald Hall is the first poet I discovered on my own. I was in highschool and held to the idea that modern poetry was crap and if it wasn't written by one of the early greats then it isn't worth reading. I was a teenager. I knew everything. I found scurrying through the magazine rack a poetry journal with a few of his poems. I was so blown away by his work that I went right out and bought one of his books. Two years ago I finally got to meet him. I am pleased to announce that he is the newest poet laureate of the United States of America.

Other Poet Laureats are Rita Dove, Billy Collins, Ted Kooser, Louise Gluck, Joseph Brodsky the first poet who isn't an American to receive the honor. He came to the cerimony, picked up his check and went home, never doing anything to fulfill his duties. And the big poppa himself Stanley Kunitz. When he was asked what he'll do during his tenure as the poet laureate he answered, "Do what I always do. Write Poetry."

Speaking of the Dixie Chicks

I have started to regularly visit Cross Left in order to try and become a more well rounded Cubicle Reverend. I think people here are more than well aware of my frustrations at politics mixing with faith. So I try to read both sides of things to get a better understanding of the way the world works. Admittedly this is a dangerous undertaking, but I think there is a lot of baggage that Christianity needs to unload if we are going have a purer faith again. Out of curiosity I posted a blog on how funny I thought it was that the Dixie Chicks were so suprised that their fans got upset at their comments about George Bush to see if anyone actually read these things or commented on them, especially when the person who wrote it is a moderately educated guy with an overly active imagination with too much free time on his hands. Let's face it, this is pure comedy gold. They are a country western band. Who tends to listen to country music? Conservatives who voted more than likely twice for George Bush and still support him. From what I hear their new record aint' exactly tearing up the charts. That's a shame. I loved their rendition of Landslide.

The Bouncing Souls

As a spur of the moment decision I went with my roommate to see a band I didn't know anything about. I figured why not, the tickets were cheap, and it was an excuse to get out. The concert was held at the Trocadero is pretty well known in the area for having a lot of punk shows as well as other acts that may have strong followings but aren't particularly on the map as far as fame is concerned. I had no real expectations except that either way I'd have a good time. The headliner band was The Bouncing Souls hailing from my state New Jersey. Who knew anything worthwile could come out of New Jersey? I expected a typical punk band, young guys with spiked hair and tatoos with ripped jeans screaming angry music. My type of crowd. Seriously, there are two places I can go to where I fit in: biker rallies or punk shows. I haven't been to a show like this in a long time, so I was wondering if I were a bit old to be going to a show like this. The band was a revelation. They were a punk band, but they jumped around genres like crazy. I was blown away. Plus they were my age! It's nice to know I can still keep it real. My favorite part was they didn't talk. All they did was play music. No attempts at political discourse, no sermons, no messages. Just a good old fashioned rock show. The Dixie Chicks could learn something from them.

Poetry Thursday - Ghazal

I love ghazals . Their short meditative lines, the repetition of words, the way each stanza's are an individual poem as well as part of the whole. I have tried writing a few and find they are a lot harder than one would think. This poem was written by one the most brilliant poets of this age who sadly died way too young.

For You
Agha Shahid Ali

Did we run out of things or just a name for you?
Above us the sun doubles its acclaim for you.

Negative sun or negative shade pulled from the ground...
and the image brought in one ornate frame for you.

At my ever word they cry, "Who the hell are you?"
What would you reply if they thus sent Fame to you?

What a noise the sentences make writing themselves--
Here's every word that we used as a flame for you.

I remember your wine in my springtime of sorrow.
Now the world lies broken. Is it the same for you?

Because in this dialect the eyes are crossed or quartz,
A STATUE A RAZOR A FACT I exclaim for you.

The birthplace of written language is bombed to nothing.
How neat, dear America, is this game for you?

The angel of history wears all expressions at once.
What will you do? Look, his wings are aflame for you.

On a visitor's card words are arranged in a row--
Who was I? Who am I? I've brought my claim. For you.

A pity I don't know if you'r guilty of something!
I would -- without your knowing -- take the blame for you.

Still for many days the rain will continue to fall...
A voice will say, "I'm burning, God, in shame for You."

Something like smoke rises from the snuffed-out distance...
Whose house did that fire find which once came for you?

God's dropped the scales. Whose wings will cover me, Michael?
Don't pronounce the sentence Shahid overcame for you.

Another Tag

I admit there are many things going on in my mind right now that I do not know where to begin. Lots of ideas, lots of things I want to focus on, and I have no idea where to begin. There are literally 5 or 6 things at least that I have on the various burners with no idea which to focus on. What is the point of this blog really? If there is one. So as I listen to Don Ho's "Tiny Bubbles" (a classic) I fill out yet another tag just to keep from getting stale. Thanks Kristi. If any of you want to do this, consider yourself tagged.

I _____ :

I AM: anctious to know what God has in store for me.

I SAID: I'd never go back to school. Go figure.

I WANT: finish school and see where I am headed next.

I WISH: Understood more what it means to be a Christian.

I MISS: hanging out with friends and loved ones.

I HEAR: My room mates mother and brother watching TV.

I WONDER: If I have gotten it right.

I REGRET: taking for granted many of the relationships in life.

I AM NOT: going to make that mistake twice.

I DANCE: only when completely alone or else completely wound up

I SING: goofy songs that no one in their right mind would like.

I CRY: only during sad movies. I am waiting for the day when I finally break and start gushing.

I AM NOT ALWAYS: thoughtful of others.

I MAKE WITH MY HANDS: nothing, I am useless with my hands.

I WRITE: poetrty, because it is the only way I know how to express myself. I also write my prayers because it is the only way I can focus my thoughts.

I CONFUSE: everything by going in too many directions at once.

I NEED: to use my time better.

I SHOULD: be working on the many poems and blog entries I have lying about.

I START: projects all gung-ho and then fizzle out fast

I FINISH: a good meal with a contented feeling.

I LOVE: God and my loved ones.

I TAG: anyone who wants to do this.