Being Hueman

Acknowledging the value of all God's Creation, the beauty
of diversity, and the possibilities of embracing love,
compassion and justice as a way of
life and community. This is being hueman.

Poetry & Writing by Greg Powell

Fragment of a Dream for Martin Luther King by Greg Powell
Fragments of a Dream

The voice/ oh Lord
that voice

I hear his voice.
Trumpet hail. That spoke
gospel from mountaintops.
Intoned manna rains in desert
wastelands. Blew fire breaths through
crushing walls of glaciers.

His voice. Revolutionary vision plea.
Fluid articulation of buried tears. Spoke
Flesh layered on dry bone skeletons
rising to boogie and press paths
to promised land.

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Greg Powell writes a poem for New Year's and hope.
New Year's Psalm of Hope

... pimping good souls to pay
premiums to save planet, or
more to heart of matter
save us from Mama’s wrath.
her journey, she tells me
when ear touches her soil
doesn’t need us to continue.
life and God and soil and air
goes on as we embrace death
and dead things. so in this next
circle dance around sun, I choose
to dance in circles of praise
and to bloom even in polluted
raging winds and flood waters,
and politics and death pornography:
dance the dance until I die the dance:
of life and love…
life and love

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Orion re: Meditation on a Diamond Sky by Greg Powell
Meditation on a Diamond Sky

My friend Orion climbs the sky
We have communed since
Baby eyes first opened
Received ancient canopy
Of rays more ancient than pyramids
More ancient than earth and sun
And many worlds and stars born
and dead. I wonder and wander
traveling space ways in woke dreams
listening for dance and music of life
on worlds so many we call infinite
because little minds can’t conceive
and narrow minds can’t believe
of infinite worlds thriving peaceful
and worlds mortally wheezing
of worlds gone dusty and depleted
crusty in heat and cold

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Greg Powell writes a new poem- Slickhead Rick v Sonny LeBain
Slickhead Rick v Sonny LeBain

Story’s been told
In tales and song
Of an Afro-Blue duel,
Lasted all night long

In a South Side spot,
Royal women and men
Romance and sex dance
Sip cognac and fizzy gin

Drunk dude in corner
Blues is all he got
Head tipping from tap
Of a whisky shot

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Tales of the Funky Drummer by Greg Powell
Tales of the Funky Drummer

I’m not a master drummer
I drum to the Master
The master crafter
push us through the disaster
The beat gets up
the asses of slackers
Rappers pastors and
gang banger blasters
Beat the drum because
the times is drastic
My lyrics sparkle
spastic lean and elastic

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Broken Legacy

Do the bruised brass wailing
exclamation scar of history/
suffocating in shadows of projects
spread like southern crosses
burning/ fall futilely
on depressed ears
of spiritually deaf/ Do
harsh sharp horn shouting preachments
sustain chanted sermons to
empty pews/Do anyone
to John

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