Arnold Bailey's Weblog

“I have a dream…”
But what happened to it
A dream so full of passion and promise
Now fills our nations prisons
Brother killing brother
A white master in the form of a rock
A glass pipe beats down the great dream
And a great mans words become
As lost as the people who celebrate it

The man who said “Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst
for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred.
We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline.”
Did he die in vane or was he spared the sorrow
Of watching, his people become anointed in
Self oppression
Bitterness
Violence

Had he been alive to see the horror
Of what his people have become
And how his dream has been used
Used by opportunists looking to
Hold high the shield of civil rights
For the favors of the camera and fame
He would have probably shot himself

~Arnold Bailey (Celebrate his life through actions – not good intentions)

Quotes from:
Martin Luther King, Jr.
“I Have a Dream”
delivered 28 August 1963, at the Lincoln Memorial, Washington D.C.

http://www.americanrhetoric.com/speeches/mlkihaveadream.htm

Mom brings in fresh baked cookies from the kitchen
Still wearing the flour covered apron that hides her beautiful blue dress
Father sitting in his favorite chair reading aloud with head tilted back
As his glasses rest at the tip of his nose
Children sitting at fathers’ feet listening intently
Picturing in their minds the fantastical voyage
The family dog curls up in front of the fireplace
Basking in the warmth of the moment
Above the mantle hangs a portrait of family present and past
As he looks at it he smiles and carefully removes the scene from the magazine
He folds it, places it in the pocket of his dirt encrusted jacket
Curling up beside the dumpster in the alley
Covers himself with a newspaper quilt
Picturing himself by the fireplace
In his mind he basks in the warmth of the moment

Bittersweet

Through the doorway, I see her
Sitting, rocking, smiling
Hello dear she mutters
Her voice so soft… warm
I sit beside her and take her hand
She happily tells me about her day
She looks so frail and so cold
I drape her shawl around her shoulders
Her smile grows and she pats my hand
She tells me her favorite colors
She shows me her knitting
My heart grows heavy as she speaks
For the things she does not tell me
I must go and she kisses my cheek
She tells me that I am a nice young man
She asks…Who are you?
My heart breaks all over again
I tell her that I am just a friend
As my mother smiles and rocks

~Arnold Bailey

W. W. M. D.

I hear them
They praise Muhammad
They speak of glory
They teach his prophecy

I often wonder
Would he teach his children hate
To bathe in the blood of “infidels”
To destroy the young and innocent

Would he smile
To watch his people torture and rape
Would he rejoice in lamenting women
Laughing at the suffrage before him

Does he see
The world he envisioned
War torn and broken
Is this the message of the Qur’an

Muhammad the prophet
Prophet of genocide
Of human slaughter
Of hunger and pain

Allah be praised
For this – your son
For his sons and their sons
For the generations of blood soaked sands

Muhammad we ask
Was your message lost
Or altered by power and greed
Forcing the weak to follow perversion

Your holy teachings
Or deadly cleansing
Shall they walk beside you
Or lie broken beneath your feet

~Arnold Bailey

Woolf

Pockets hold my burdens
…. Each cold and heavy
My means to nevermore… forever
Not death but journey anew
Voices visit me without face
I struggle with fear
Not of the faceless voices
Merely with the faces that speak
…. with no voice unto me
they speak
Callous judgment
Those indignant bitches…
I go to where beckons me
Those before me
That have walked
Trapped… confined…
Prisoner of their sex
Silenced and condemned
I go forth slowly
This path I choose
This path that delivered once
… my freedom
When this path chose him
Water of life eternal moistens my soul
The voices rejoice
… I know not which…
As it surrounds me
Profound peace floods my mind
Drifting off
I know not where
My burdens stay with me
But…
Voices I do no longer heed

~Arnold Bailey

My brother

We would charge the enemy on broomstick stallions
Holding high our aluminum foil swords
Saving the planet from unspeakable endings
Safe within our cardboard armor

We sat above the world on the peak of Mount Tree House
Watching the people below us
They were like ants scurrying through the grass
We were gods deciding their fate

Now he was a king resting upon a porcelain throne
No head for a crown
Only a twelve-gauge scepter at his feet
Wrapped in a blood red cape

~Arnold Bailey

A lovely day to die

From behind, my left arm locks around his throat
What a magnificent blue sky
Not one cloud in sight
The sun soaring, casting no shadows

My right hand gripping tight to my K-bar
I hear the wind speak softly through the trees
The cool breeze rushes across my face
Caressing my body with tender touch

I place the knifepoint at the base of the skull
I smell the fragrance of wild flowers
Dancing through the air
Blessing the senses of all they encounter

I push the blade deep and twist
Birds sweetly sing in the distance
The grassy plane seems to eternally sway
Rolling like gentle ocean waves

~Arnold Bailey

Consoling pain

From the moment of self-awareness
Pain has been my life.
Mental, physical, emotional
Finding solstice in brief moments of pleasure
Only to become fearful of pleasure for the anguish that ensues.
For I know that pain is there…

Waiting…

Patient as death

However, unlike death pain seeks no end.
Time after time, punishing
With no remorse

- Relentless

As I grow, pain walks beside me
Always there to remind me that I am alive that I feel that I exist.
So death, be gone from my door for you will visit but once,
Pain will never leave me and I wish not to leave him.

~Arnold Bailey

The priest’s voice

The barber shaves my head as I grip tight to my chair
Thoughts of my childhood race through my mind
Each memory runs as a tear from my eye
A priest stands to my left
I look out the large window before me
A group has gathered
They talk and laugh amongst themselves
Then all take a seat
They stare at me, pointing at me
Some smile some jeer
Some look at me with contempt
I close my eyes as the last bit of hair falls across my face
The barber quickly brushes my neck and then walks away
I look around and see salvation to my left
To my right is the a door I shall never pass again in this life
As a hat is fit snug to my head
It takes me back to my those times…
A time when my mother would place my cap snug on cold mornings
In the distance, I hear the faint sound of the priest’s voice
As he half-heartedly attempts to save my soul
Panic rushes through my body when the bit is forced into my mouth
My panic is ten-fold when the hood is placed over my head
Nothing but darkness and that damned priest’s voice echoing through my head
The warden gives the order
Suddenly I can’t remember a sweeter sound
Than the priest’s voice

~Arnold Bailey

On The Science Side

The following link has some of the best microscopic imagery that I have seen in awhile. It also contains some fantastic details and information regarding Marine microscopic organisms, both fossil and living. They are presented in Power Point format. If your studies are geared toward Micro or Marine Biology, you may find the information helpful

http://mikrogeo.com/