Meditating Gunrunner @jaxxsonj6 - Tumblr Blog

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And from the Bahamas, I see the work I must do. Breathe deeping. Rebel timely. And, love always!

Dear children

Your elders murdered in grocery stores

You lay masked on cold bloody floors

We lie and say it will get better

Columbine to today same ass news header

You deserve a better planet than we got

A place where the war against guns and your murders are fought

collard greens and rainbows

each time, i create a poem

a collard green eeks out of me

and, a rainbow becomes that much

possible

jellyfish babies

i just found out that the us nuclear bomb testing in the marshall islands has led to women in the marshall islands having jellyfish babies. it is burdening. i am mindful about this because any support of war is a colonization of a woman, a womb, a family. jellyfish babies become the evidence that mlk jr’s call to create a loving community is important. i am sad. i am hurt.

growing up in the pic

i grew up in between marion and lima ohio. i grew up in between the multiple locations of prisons my mother and father inhabited. only into my middle twenties did i really start thinking about my story alongside other children, girls, boys, grandmothers, grandfathers, and ancestors of incarcerated people. we act as if prison will halt people inside of them from living, loving, eating, farting, learning and experiencing the wanders, joys, and the deaths of life. i dont think we fully humanize the incarcerated like we didn’t fully humanize the african slave. well. i dont mean to say i dont think. i mean to say i am trying in my daily life and struggling to create a bridge between my life as an man to older parents who have been incarcerated, and the children of formerly and currently incarcerated parents who i have sought out to teach. the bridge is literacy, liberation, and learning. on literacy, i try to struggle with them in the name of developing a love of knowing that words and worlds can be creating with the power of reading and writing. on liberation, i try to give and situate their stories alongside stories of liberatory people. and, on learning, i believe in the art and science of learning. i dont know why i do. i always and often question why i put so much energy and mindfulness into my learning and teaching. i think i enjoy it, therefore i am attracted to it.

growing up in a pic (prison industrial community), the struggle to survive, and to teach, and to cause joy become my tools for assaulting and tearing the colonial structures of prisons, of schools, or governments, or any state apparatus that does international harm and domestic terrorism to people who are the most downtrodden. the sex worker’s children. the prisoners parents. and black ancestor to african slaves. the mexican farm workers mother back in mexico. the chinese grandfather who speaks little english. the white working mother addicted to drugs and alcohol. those are the ones we need to be apart of our revolution. the least will be the most mindful about where we go in the future. the least well resourced

making peace

i often wince at the type of violence we as americans (those who are birthed on this colonized land) enjoy, engage with, and utterly promote. and i am complicit. i played football since i was a young cat. in middle school (ages 12 through 15) i played organized ball. this taught me to compete. man up. to really take a person apart. to dismember my fellow man. to try at any energy to dislodge their soul from their body. i remember after being cursed out by my grandmother or punched in the chest by my brother, both of whom parented me during these years, how cleansing it was to attempt to assassinate another boy on the football field. Running at top speed, locking my body in on a target, then detonating felt miraculous to a young boy who had parents in prison. after teaching us how to man up on a football field, no one ever taught me the importance of peace. or how to erect my body. my mind. my style of life. toward peace. that is until i found beomeosa temple. and buddhism at age 26. to think i had been living my whole life in constant war.

lust

The hard thing

About lust is

One can only

Have one thing

It looks like

Love, but it

Aint, cuz you

Know that you

Don't want any

Long term future

With that human

And your weather

Inside your body

Tells you that

Their winter is

Too cold for

Your spring and

Maybe one day

Their snow could

Blow your spring

Leaves off the

Face of the

Earth if you

Let them cuz

You are a

Sweet spring day

Away love but

The one lusting

After you is

Wasting your time

And you know

This but stay

Because loneliness is

A rain storm

Without a rainbow

And a ocean

Without a volcano

So you stay

Lusting after one

Season like weatherwomen

After doopler skies

But know on

Some day that

Human will love

You like a

Natural on Pam

Grier

Jim & Jane Crow

Jim and Jane Crow had a baby son

His name was Donald

Jim and Jane crow had a baby daughter

Her name was Sarah

We are

We are not broken patriarchy we are born to

We are but moves and curves of liberation

We are not the prison economies we shift through

We are cornfields and water crusts

Next Nobel

I imagine the bombs Obama sent

Weeks before his nobel in print

One wonders if Trump will win

A nobel prize 4 wiping Korea from our eyes

My Grandmother The River

My grandmother was a body of water

When she cried she created oceans

When she smiled you could hear rivers

When she laughed rain poured out

When she slept vapors showed up

When thought she hydrated all life

When she died became a hurricane

My grandmother was river

Patriarchy

Is an abusive relationship

what we lost in prisons?

my mother's love we missed her kisses and hugs my father's smarts they snatchwe his soul and hearts

Deep oceans

Her love was much deeper than mine I had not touched the depths of soul I hadnt allowed all the orgasms to live I was a toxic river I poured into nothing but myself What I really needed was to Become fresh water Purify my... (Not done and need to think)

Boy Wonder

Dear Black Boy You do not have to make someone so small in your presence to be so big. You are not in danger. You are not what your father was or his father was. They were not equal under law. You are the new law. You can shift the imaginations of nations. You can write nations into existence. You are not dangerous unless you want to be. Why are you so scared little boy? You can do anything without trying to kill or chase away the dreams of other boys, girls, other genders, plants, animals, and anyone/thing. I don't believe what they say you are. I never have. That is why I am dangerous to Them. I am not buying that you cannot be happy, you are a prisoner by nature, you are a rapist, you are innately violent, you are transphobic, and that you can't be the peace and love and harmony you possess in your smile. You are a boy wonder. A creature of love. A moon shine of light. A bouquet of hope. A new universe until we end the current. You are the ones we hope to heal with. Your brother forever, Meditating Gunrunner.

Eyes

I wanted to see her until my eyes gave up. Or until her beauty blinded me.

Bullet memory

Sometimes. I wish. I were. A bullet. I would map around and not through TamirTrayvonSamPhilando's body.

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