Run, Hide, Fight.
a recess playground game the bully insists his audience plays
kids badged as superheroes and princesses in awkward clothes
run the elementary school’s baseball diamonds and asphalt kickball courts
to hide behind a tree
or fight the bully
we adrenaline listened because our children might die.
ARIELLE. ALEXANDRIA. BRIAN.
Run, Hide, Fight.
the motto of our system
the rubric we teach our children
the method, the structure, the mantra, the meaning of existence
the church of media and entertainment all transistor crystalized
in its purest form on the police scanner
where the dispatcher is the new celebrity and crowd sourced rewarded
am i guilty of a coveted click?
or just getting by in the method, the structure, the mantra, the meaning of existence
on a playground where i drew the fancy branded running shoes
while men, it’s MEN,
some men shove and hog an 11pm camera
to think it’s their shot for the coveted click and recognition to revenue
in the United Democracy of Run, Hide, Fight.
when your daughter cowers, shrinks, descends in a 7th floor dorm room
barricaded with a wicker papasan
illuminated by an ipad facetime
going silent when the hallway elevator opens and someone twists the door knob
hiding in the sick money game of surveillance system profiting off of aryan romances of militias
and invisible men perpetuating sadistic bully rules of
Run, Hide, Fight.
some women and men are noble in badges affixed with radios and information
and authentically speak the word
community
communities of daughters and sons, friends, shell shocked and caked with screams
bowed to a Spartan Statue no longer about football and academic memories
but the temple of the dead flowers
mom tears from our governor dissolving
her past loving reminders of Berkey Hall and the Union
and all there is for her to say is
this is bullshit
echoes her innocence lost into Dante’s Run, Hide, Fight hell






The second week of November 2016 is the apex of some yet unknown historic shift. We all know it’s big and we’re living it. In hindsight I was mistaken about some things and I see other things coming to fruition via a nod to historical movements. It’s history book time now and that’s unsettling. 50% is the number for me. 50% voted one way. 50% the other way. And 50% didn’t vote at all.
It’s a powerful platform and requires couth. Most of us move too fast with it. We post and friend one another without thinking. Posts that get interaction via comments, likes, and shares come to the top of the feed and thus the spiral into heated conversation. This can be great for democracy but too often we see it turn personal and aggressive. Imagine if you started blurting out political views at your company’s water cooler at 10am. Not tactful. Not couth. Most of us don’t operate this way because we’d probably be out of a job. However, most of us will take a quick glance at our phones at the water cooler and can potentially see a co-workers political Facebook rant. This isn’t dialogue. Just as you know your audience at work or in a social setting know your audience online. Facebook has powerful tools namely the ability to-
The Guardian Building with it’s golden Pewabic tile was completed in 1929. She had to have made a point to see it. My eyes have seen what she saw!
One of the surprising players uncovered for me was the Edsel Ford painting. I knew Diego Rivera as a painter of the “labor movement” and figured him to have socialist tendencies. For decades I’d been to the DIA to take in “the mural” but never knew the story behind it. The fact the Fords were the ones who funded the mural was a profound revelation of irony. On the surface “the mural” shows the awesome destiny of man and industry, the worker, it’s hope and growth along with an undertone of warning and fear. It’s like something or someone is making this thing go and we’re actors not necessarily the directors. As time went on it sounds like Rivera and Kahlo became disillusioned with their wealthy benefactors and were eventually run out of town in New York City when Rivera’s proposed mural had Stalin. My generation grew up with the communist threat as the current generation wrestles with terrorism. The Detroit Industry fresco tackles these concepts before World War II, before The Cold War, and before Reagan and Gorbachev. The exhibit gives you the untold story behind the scenes of the dialectical drama so simply explained as black and white in schools and the media. These forces comingled at one time. Comingled in Detroit. The mural means this to me now and Kahlo was a hidden force.
Recently some bard colleagues of old have called me out about not writing the poetic.
