Posts Tagged ‘love’

Stormy sky over flooded lighthouse

 a lighthouse sings of liberty

Give me your
brown, your black, your rainbow,
all oppressed masses
yearning to shake free
the wretched yoke
of racism, discrimination,
teeming from shore to shore.
Send those racists, those homophobes
back to the bowels of hell
from whence they came,
banish them to tempest-tossed
seas, while I lift my lamp as
a welcome to all who
embrace equality beside
the golden arch of love
and freedom.

Rod Carlos Rodriguez

homo poeticus

homo poeticus

a sliver, a whisper
slides under my notice,
digs deep in dark soil

fresh, moist from
last night’s quieting
rain, until the first

seed cracks through
grains, flashes lightning
and peels thunderclaps,

drives other seeds to
crack and explode
over mountains,

heralds forests to blaze
over cities and deserts,
sparks a wave of

birds that crash and flood
battle fields
and war machines,

the earth is
drowned in Mother’s arms
singing a lullaby for

a singular species,

homo poeticus

Rod Carlos Rodriguez

A Place to Call Home by Rod C. Stryker
…to hold my light-skinned grandson
without suspicion or police presence,

…to give my light-skinned wife a kiss without
public eyes that caress their hate all over me

…to stride on a sidewalk
without fearful glances or mistrust

…to return home without
being interrogated because of my dark skin

…where dark skin is celebrated and not
treated with a nightstick or a bullet to the head

…I can look to with pride and love
and peace and joy and and and…
no more war

…Some where,


Rod C. Stryker

Apple by Rudra Mandal

photo by Rudra Mandal



I want you

makes me race

to rip my

clothes off,

but slowly…

trade my work clothes

for my birthday


entice you

to flaunt your

Sunday best

if Sundays were

for nudists,

grab an apple

as I chase you

in glee

and bare skin


bewildered crowds

of oak trees


conservative pastors,


treasonous attitudes

and cavort


from the train track’s

other side,

patently enjoying

our uninhibited selves.


that I want

you makes me…            Free.


Rod C. Stryker

A more recent piece. Hope you like it.


The Palestinian woman

       in her black

     hijab walks alone.

 Her mind and heart

       longing for her Jewish

  lover and consort.


       she’ll walk beside him

       in the open air,

hijab discarded,

   dreams unfolding.

  But her family suspects

    and his government


    For the blood

       runs free and long in

       years past.

    Their love is strong, but

will it survive the wars

of God and Allah?



Rod C. Stryker

An older piece. Kinda speaks for itself. Hope you like it.

world trade center tribute - dan cabral

photo by Dan Cabral

As a boy raised in New York, and of Puerto Rican-American heritage, I was ridiculed, teased, shunned because of the color of my skin. I wished to myself and through little boy tears to not be Latino. I confessed to my mother how much I didn’t want to be brown. She helped dry those tears and also helped me to look past color and prejudice, to ignore and rise above hurtful stares and comments. Until finally, I was not only proud of my heritage, but also joyful of being human.

What I know, 

As a former member of the U.S. Air Force, I was stationed at various places around the world, including Europe and the Middle East. In each and every place I witnessed people, all with their own struggles, loves, choices. All trying to understand this difficult, sometimes unforgiving experience called life. I saw children, parents, sisters, brothers. In every culture, no matter how foreign to my ignorant eyes, I saw families, loved, coveted, cherished. Hopeful at being human.

What I know,

is that as different as people may be perceived, we are just as similar. We try to judge, to give excuses for being angry, and some excuses can seem extremely valid. But what I know is we ALL make choices in our lives. Honey mustard or mayonnaise, crunchy peanut butter or jam, to take the subway into work at the World Trade Center or at the Pentagon or stop at the corner gas station or not. And all our choices are made freely, never knowing what the Powers-That-Be have in mind for us. I could step off the curb tomorrow and a drunk driver or stressed out mom or young teenager racing his friends, or a crazed maniac with an axe to grind for all life has dealt him might end my life. And yet, I still make the choice to step off the curb, with this knowledge in mind, I enjoy my life as much as possible, with zest, with verve, with passion…being human!

What I know,

And what I do with all this knowledge, all this experience, is perhaps unpopular, is usually unpopular, especially now. I  CHOOSE to forgive. Yes, that’s right. I forgive Osama bin Laden and all those dictators who wish to harm and kill, I forgive their following for their role in this tragedy and other tragedies they may have committed. I was reminded, after much angry thoughts and seething ideas of retribution the day of September 11th, 2001 that to answer this insane violence with more insanity, begets more violence, more insanity. So, I’ve decided to propose peace. I will make a start, perhaps alone, to envision peace, to imagine it encompassing the world. Instead of God bless America, I propose God bless the Earth. The only path to REAL peace is not war, but dialogue, understanding, forgiveness and as blind as the world may be to this simple concept, this simple hope, the only real method of attaining true peace….is love. Give it some thought. And when the anger has subsided, when the seething desire for destruction has abated, all I know is what I envision, for myself, for my children, for my children’s children. It starts with one person, it starts with me, this human…being. I embrace all life, all ideals, all beliefs. And try to remember, if you can, that we are one. We Are One.


Rod C. Stryker, poet

San Antonio, Texas, United States, North America,

Planet Earth.

This was written years ago, but it is just as relevant today as it was on September 11, 2001. May the world know real peace.

Bleed Poetry1Bleed Poetry by Rod C. Stryker 

 I verse

  to stroke my

  rage and

  feed the


   again and again.


  I verse

   to cage my God

     and the angels

     in hopes of


  some peace, a heaven.


  I verse

    for pity and pain,

to bleed


in joyous chants

    and sacrifice.


  I verse

     in desires and desperation

to gain,

     to touch, to live

  for, with, in you.


Verse, I.



Rod C. Stryker

This poem was published in my book, Exploits of a Sun Poet. I’ve also included my spoken word version of this piece from my album also called Exploits of a Sun Poet. Hope you like it.