Mark Hopkins

“Losing ItSome days I thinkI'm losing my mind.What seems so clearmost of the timebecomes a big question mark.Am I really the wayI percieve myself, oris the person others seethe truth of me? I wait foranswers, but inside I know I have to go outand find them. And answerslike knowledge, are not always where wefirst look for them.””

“Fire!Your nose ignites,flameless kerosene(and, some say, Drano)laced with ephedrineyou want to crypowdered demons bitethrough cartilage and sinuses,take dead aim at yourbrain, jump insidewant to screamtroops of tapping feetfall into rhythm,marking time, rightbetween your eyesget the urge to dancelouder, louder, ultragray-matter power,shock waves of energymushroom inside your headyou want to let godetonate,annihilate barriers,bring down the walls,unleashing floodwaters,freeing long-captive dreamsto ride the currentthrougharteries and capillaries,pulsing, rushing,raging torrentspounding against your heartsweeping you away””

“Oh, for shame! You who are educated by a Christian government in the art of war; the practice of whose profession makes you natural enemies of the savages, so called by you. Yes, you, who call yourselves the great civilization; you who have knelt upon Plymouth Rock, covenanting with God to make this land the home of the free and the brave. Ah, then you rise from your bended knees and seizing the welcoming hands of those who are the owners of this land, which you are not, your carbines rise upon the bleak shore, and your so-called civilization sweeps inland from the ocean wave; but, oh, my God! leaving its pathway marked by crimson lines of blood; and strewed by the bones of two races, the inheritor and the invader; and I am crying out to you for justice,”