Reading should never just be

considered an option.

A life without reading, not

understanding words, only

spots on a page, with the power

to change worlds, but they’re

dead without a voice, no meaning

till they’re read.

Full-grown Harlem lady

Eyes as black as night

If caught in a situation

Her decision would be right

Full-grown Harlem lady

Welcomes every child

If one makes a wrong decision

They will be reconciled

I hate putting my family through pain

If I could wrong my rights I would be sane

Until that point I hang my head in shame

I wish not but blame myself

It was a bad day.

Mysterious,

Big Joe had a bad idea.

He was going to ruin our street.

Big Joe is a bad man.

My name is Peaches,

I am not very fond of Big Joe,

I think my mother deserves better than a man with dough.

He is selfish, impatient, and acts like a child,

Even though he helps people, and he has a very big smile.

Angry and spiteful

Attractive and very tall

Yah I am a teen

It’s been more than 30 years since Nam. It’s been about 20 years since the Wall went up, but this is my first time visiting it. Right now, my nephew, Robin, is headed to Kuwait, and probably soon, Iraq, for another war.

I want respect

I need tough love

I want freedom

I need control

I want to be wanted

I need to be independent

I want things

I need nothing

I want the high

I need sobriety

I want happiness

I wish I was home

I wish I was stoned

I wish I was high

I wish I could succeed

I wish I would try.

I wish

I had a tree house

One to sit in all day with my spouse

I would read to the leaves

Feel my hair move with the breeze

A tree supporting so much

Like a caring father that does such

The power to hold all

As children everything is pure

Endless and pure

As you age you notice the stars

Burnt out memories light years away

Only if you can see them

Past your city lights and suburbs.

In their memory we keep living on

Turning book pages

taking a journey,

a mystical

adventure

I used to tread over damp ground

yet seek shelter from the rain.

Those wilted lives, half-truths

fed to half-lovers, are gone.

The hollows of your cheeks

are cracked like parched earth

from years wasted needing me to kiss you.

With winter gone, she can THROW her window open wide

With spring arriving, she can dance in bright SUNSHINE.

This is what it is to LIVE without regret;

To know she can NEVER FORGET, only move on.

With BLUE above, so open, so clear and bright

In the morning, I open my eyes

Sit up and stretch, and let out small cries.

I wiggle my toes, and crinkle my nose,

And get out of bed to the sound of rooster crows.

I slip on my jeans, and my long furry coat,

A bright desire shines, wanting to be noticed.

Throughout the day,

she begins to lose hope, starting

to diminish as if she were to disappear.

Fading to nothing more than a shadow

of what once was.

You see the clothes

You see the hair

You don’t see the person there.

(You see a thing)

The chase reels me in.

You lie and fake me out till the end.

I hope and pray that you will be true.

But you let me down.

Screw you.

I am me

They are them,

Three halves make a whole.

They are the oddballs

Nerds and geeks.

People with voices in their heads

And we love being weird.

We’re none of your labels,

And yet . . . all of them.

The mistake girl is in the corner,

Facing the wall,

Counting how many cracks are in the cheap,

Thinning plaster.

Trying desperately and

Failing to block out her mother’s voice.

Seductive,

Setting a price.

They are dangerous and frightening,

Like a strike of lightning.

You have to watch out,

Because they can black you out.

You try to hold back,

Until the police come attack.

Watch out they’re coming,

His music will dance around you

And pour into your heart

They will run around the rooms

And jump around the walls

He will bake his notes in emotions

For you to taste

You will never want to leave

His house of soul

Out of my mouth

Comes a beautiful song

All of Harlem

Sings along

In the church

Bells ring

Saluting our friend,

Big Joe, they sing

The world dances to

The sweet sound

The best is the

My pulse rises when we begin to play

“Amazing Grace” and “One More River to Cross”

This is where I belong

Playing with the All-Star Stompers all day long

I hope they play on my dying day

I live on the streets

I don’t have a pillow or sheets

I’ve been arrested many times

All for stolen goods worth only pennies and dimes

I have to steal to survive

Even though I don’t really thrive

But I’m still me

Freddy oh Freddy

Is an alcoholic

He will beg you to lend him spare change,

To grab an ice cold beer at the bar.

He will never be quiet!

He is underground laying in a coffin.

Freddy oh Freddy.

My skin dark as a winter’s midnight,

Tiny body as delicate as morning light.

As worn as dusty books on the attic floor,

Don’t expect things to happen on their own anymore.

My eyes like coal in a lifeless fireplace,

A creaking windowpane,

Pelted with snow,

Reflecting light onto the dusty, deep brown floor.

The rooms seems to sigh, pained with age,

Abandoned; left waiting,

The cold is kept at bay by a single lamp,

When I look at myself I see

Harlem reflected back at me

A great city with

A great history

When I look at myself, I see the roads I have traveled

To get here, and though they took a while,

In the map of wrinkles in my face

I used to be young,

Running around Harlem having fun.

But now I grow old,

And the angels are calling.

Time to go home,

Time to go home.