People… they’re cruelest when they gather in groups convinced that they’re one in purpose. Defenders of the right against what they’ve deemed collectively wrong. I see though it’s so common that those usually persecuted are those who usually in a brave way display openly, that which the mob have secretly hidden within themselves from the eyes and minds of other people. Actors. Hypocritical and sanctimonious pretenders convinced the night is in fact the day… I say this to u all in order to educate u about a true aspect on the way of this world that’s so unseen or forgotten. Before the angry and riotous villagers burned Frankenstein’s monster into ashes, the ugly and terrifying creature came upon a little innocent girl by a river alone… did he upon finding her, rage, roar, and kill her though?… no!… he kneeled doin, he smiled, and gave her a beautiful flower. Pack Redfeather…
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Published by Pack Redfeather
I am a walking contradiction of traditions some say. An African American and Native American Muslim poet with a personal life history as violently turbulent as a Storm. A visionary from the bottom of life’s social barrel striving to share the hope found in the light of faith through sometimes dark but real poetry. I’m a former member of the Bloods street gang, former serial bank robber, and both federal/state prison convict. I live on my mother’s tribal reservation of the Leech Lake band of Ojibwe in Minnesota.
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