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2nd Sunday Jihmye Poetry- Open Mic
2nd Sunday – Jihmye Poetry – Open Mic 06/10/22
Our Feature Is TBA
2nd Sunday is in solidarity with 100,000 Poets For Change, The San Diego/Tijuana Chapter of the ReEvolutionary Poets Brigade, Black Lives Matter, Seed the Vote, The New Georgia Project, The World Beat Center & Activist San Diego.
Monday, July 10, 2022, 3:00 PM on Zoom
Zoom ID: 990 814 5215
Our Feature is TBA
Jim Moreno is an Artist-in-Residence...
She didn’t cheat us!
Lady Ruby say your name with pride.
Of course he cheated us!
He cheats on his wife.
He cheats on the Constitution.
He cheats on the border.
He cheats on his taxes.
He cheats on the election.
He cheats on (your choice here)!
He cheats in golf
He cheats in checkers.
He cheats on tweets.
He cheated hundreds of thousands
of us who died from Covid.
Carbon-Mining in City Heights
a“…sickness had arrived like a thief in the night, an illness that brought fevers and raspy coughs until soon death had grown more ruthless. They told us it would soon be over, that we would all be well in no time.”
Imbolo Mbue, a Cameroon novelist from her book How Beautiful We Were to be launched in March, 2021.
MotherEarth your brow is drenched
wet with sweat,
skin hot to the touch
& the icecap is melting.
The suits say that’s a lie
they avert their glance from fevers,
from children in cages,
from water they’ve soiled in Detroit,
When they ignore these things
its a sickness of their minds,
a poverty of their souls.
So many of them sicken the Senate.
One clod flew to Cancun when
Texas was frozen in ice and snow.
They only see their wallets,
to all else― they are blind.
Howka, Haku, Aloha, Waca’, say
the Kumeyaay, my Chumash,
Hawaiians, the Eskimo.
All indigenous are teaching
that our relatives are dying
or are being rubbed out, gone,
like the wrong end of a pirate pencil
balancing bogus books.
The scientists said there were too many elephants.
pachyderms were eating forests into deserts;
so they shot 40,000 elephants and then those
men in white coats discovered they were wrong.
The forests kept turning into deserts when the huge
relatives were gone.
One biologist finally said, “We were wrong.”
We didn’t have to erase Mother Earth’s
And the cockatoo cried,
“Damn right you were wrong!”
MotherEarth you are feverous― the
relatives with fins are being caught in
miles of plastic choking the sea: the dolphins,
the tunas, the sharks, the salmon, the rays.
MotherEarth there is salt in the sea
from your tears, so many tears.
MotherEarth I can hear your
tears touch small stones
left from fracking.
MotherEarth I am carbon-farming
in my front yard in City Heights.
I’ve planted bamboo which absorbs coal,
I can hear moonlight flow in silver water
down the hill.The moonlight’s song is
the ancestors’ melody.The words to the song
The ancestors sing the ancient song
of the willow and the oak.
Great Spirit, Great Mystery, Tunkashila,
Kopkanupmawa, The Mystery Behind the Sun.
help us bend like the willow and not break like the oak
when that strongest tree is uprooted
or breaks in the hot or cold wind,
the cold wind of lonely
or the hot wind of revenge.
Help us to bend like the willow,
The deep song that MotherEarth.sings.
Jim Moreno, Winter 2021