MADE FOR YOU AND ME 2: hive Being (Stanzas 2017—part 11)

Let's workshop this stanza sequence about black supremacy, psychoanalysis, science, paranormal hunters, cult leaders, prison, true black power, Rikers Island, psychic travel, Publisher’s Clearinghouse

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forgiving himself for the people he hurt made him less like to hurt people

physical bars honed psychic travel

yet another artist channeling electricity into the very grid that needed to be zapped

fear of losing your child in the time travels of psychoanalysis

best believe he took his money back from the corpse’s warm pocket

open but skeptical—the thin line the scientist walks

“What up my White King?”

he who actually believes in the bible code prophesies, or that ghosts reach out
in English through AM stations, is somehow, at least it seems at times, sadder
than he who just sells the mumbo jumbo to relieve the gullible of their money 

immigrants duped by that millionaire-winner letter from Publisher’s Clearinghouse 

loath to shelve disbelief, the target of seduction—like outsider eyes who must see how
the magic trick is done and who must remind us again and again that WWE matches
are really just soap operas, choreographed—could never let any seduction take root

the most diabolical fragility is manifest in those who write off any
questioning of their view (even if just a matter of caring curiosity)
as an expression of fragility, the disposition to flee from pushback

exposure therapy for emetophobia awakening bulimia

a cult usually only grows once those 
close to the would-be leader say, 
“Others need to hear your words”

that no one went after her with a law suit
despite her vicious assault on big pharma 
suggested it was perhaps not quackery after all

in the damming of his compulsion, the dark river—
as if by some law of energy conservation—sprang
through defiant outlets (luckily less prison-worthy)

LaGuardia jetliners, off to glittering emancipations, right outside the Rikers window

the refrain playing within still retains, after decades, the needle hiccup in the vinyl

the path to true black power avoided merely because many white people light it up 

death sheets over mirrors 
after death, because death 
spells the death of vanity

telling kids how climate change will affect their lives even more—
having arrived at the party, so at least goes the inspiring message
they awaken to, when the ashtrays are full and puke is everywhere 

when he said at the bus stop “I’m a horse (a mare)” and his (her?) “friends” giggled, 
he said “You’re fragile, fleeing from my challenge to your world” and they said, this
being a uniform school, “Calling us ‘fragile,’ though, is you fleeing from our challenge”

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This is a portion of an ongoing mosaic poem called Made for You and Me. This portion is from the first installment: hive Being (Stanzas 2016-2020). More specifically, it is from the 2017 portion of that five-part work.