"HUMANATARIAN WAYS ROCK!"

HUMANATARIAN WAYS ROCK

PEACE, LOVE, UNDERSTANDING, FREEDOM

To say for me to not talk politics after all these years

Is to say they do not care about The Trail of Tears

Or anyone but their own views of derogatory cremation of cultures.

To say to me they are overwhelmed with my humanitarian views

Of life,

I say to them,

“How is that working out for you?”

As I pass them on the right

And the left

Standing in their shoes where my ancestors tread.

I said,

“I am not all white as I cherish my native roots and my other roots of humanity

Spreading outwardly past the Trail of Tears and

Fears

Of my tears

That this time next year

A new day

A new dawn

We are all human beings.

We live in an adventurous world of us vs them,

With all kinds of whims

Of either do not talk politics

Nor do not talk religion.

Then I see the might of how

Cultures all over the world

Twirl

In religion and politics

To some people politics is a dirty word,

Absurd

As this sounds to one woman,

Me

To be

A woman with a body

With a uterus

That is no one’s business.

So, I fuss.

So, I cuss.

So, what does one,

To be aloof,

To little dictators in pulpits

Of bullshit?

So, I will talk.

I will write.

I just might

Irritate a few peeps,

That give me the creeps,

As much as I give them the creeps.

The darkness seeps under pillows

Under benches,

over rooftops,

Of fellows,

And all others of other means.

It seems,

To rattle and roll

Around the freedom train

Of the sane

As they mellow out around the bend

To make their final win

Over the insane little dictators

That are Screaming racial overtones &

Sarcasms against LGBTQ and women and people of color

Are number one for the little dictators

In their pulpits,

Shouting & screaming bring their God of fear & hate.

What is their fate?

Their fate is to dictate our lives to all of us.

To cuss us mess us up

unless we think like them.

Look like them.

Or hate like them.

So, when a friend who spoke politics with me

A year ago

Now warns me not to talk politics,

They are overwhelmed with gobble goo.

Then no they have joined the faux preachers in the pulpits

Yelling hell & damnation to all,

Cause that is their only call

To fill their pews

To fill their pocketbooks

With a few

Bucks to pay for their Learjet,

And their set

Of solid gold tennis shoes

For the few

Who worship the golden calf

While I laugh.

I cry.

I am me

To be a

Regular woman

Barely making ends meet

Day by day

Week by week

Month by month

I quite frankly will let you go your way,

Then on another day

The one who condemns freedom,

Will apologize someday.

If not, I will see them in the camps,

That the moral majority plans to herd us into like cattle.

I vote for democracy.

I vote for equality for all.

I vote for women’s rights.

However, I know to convince the friends that strayed

Will not be easy.

So, I will let it be,

To me,

I will write,

I will love,

I will unite.

Written by

Vicki Lawana Trusselli

copyright 2024

TRUSSELLI ART

I will share a song by the late John Hurt of long ago

as we still fight the same battles today. This is a tune I used to play on thec piano as a child. "You Got to Walk That Lonesome Valley by yourself, cause nobody else is 'gonna' walk it for you!"

Mississippi John Hurt - You Got To Walk That Lonesome Valley (Live)