Poet, Author, Filmmaker, Philanthropist, Activist

From Years Past

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sshhh...

hushed, forbidden moans
his forever...mine tonight
sweet iniquity 

  

© 2016 Marcus Harris


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Anthem (For My People)

in the poems for your legacy,
my pen
 

in the vigil for your memory,
my flame
 

in the shouts for your justice,
my throat
 

in the marches for your name,
my feet
 

in the cries for your mother,
my tears
 

in the lifting of your fathers,
my back
 

in the battles for your children,
my fists
 

in the war for your freedom,
my blood.
 

© 2017 Marcus Harris

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Healing

Stirring the stillness,
they welcome the dawn
with avian calls
growing in
strength and timbre,
cries of desperation yielding to
pleas of relief for
the passing darkness -
songs not of strength,
but vulnerability -
a surrender
to solace,
to peace,


and as I turn to
an old picture of us,
faded and worn in the
reflected light,
I realize
what
I'm really
hearing
is the sound of
healing. 


© 2016 Marcus Harris

From #snapshot

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Astronomy

We used to
reach for the stars,
now we just
reach for our phones,
so distracted,
so many reasons
to look down,
drifting, floating through
cyberspace,
lured by
hypnotic flashes of
artificial light...
 

When
I first saw you,
I felt like an astronomer
who discovered some
brand new star –
 

but
truth is,
stars aren’t new,
they’ve been around for
millions of years,
their light always shining,
seen everywhere else in
the universe –
 

truth is,
they’re just
new to us,
reasons
to stop floating, drifting –
 

like you,
reasons
to look up again. 


© 2017 Marcus Harris


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Brock Turner/Cory Batey

I see
she
wears a blindfold,
holds a balance and sword,
is supposed to judge everyone
the same -
 

but
 

I know
those
of light complexion
get acquitted by perception,
while those of darker shade lose that
rigged game. 


© 2017 Marcus Harris 


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If I Were A Poet

my grandma
used to talk about
when she met
my granddaddy -
what she said,
I forget,
but I'll always remember
the glow on her face when
she spoke...
 

I imagine
I looked the same
when you winked at me
in homeroom...
 

and if I were a poet,
I'd know just the words
to describe the feeling
of
your lips on mine
or
your fingers in my palm
and
maybe I could express
the way my heart
used to flutter
whenever I got a text from
you...
 

I guess
I could also explain
how it felt
when I saw
you
at the mall with
him...  


© 2017 Marcus Harris