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.

I'm old, I tell them,

Older than you.

I tell them I'm old,

I'm full-grown.

I've seen many days,

Lived many years.

I've been many places,

I'm full-grown.

One Word

Can make the difference.

Guilty? or Not?

It doesn’t matter what I think.

It only matters what the jury believes.

I am nothing but a name in a story.

I wish more things were black.

Watch the depression stack

Bury the emotion in a deep sack

Take all the hate and give it back

The whip of remorse has a thundering crack

I wish more things were black.

Look at her,

I look at myself.

I see him,

I see myself.

I find what I want...

It’s not an option.

Mother is marrying Big Joe.

Why she decided to, I do not know.

Doesn’t she know,

She is betraying Father?

Doesn’t she know I don’t want to be a daughter,

To anyone but Father?

Hey! You see that

girl? Yeah right over

there. Yes the                                pretty

Do I dare disturb the universe?

Indulge in the quizzical whims of questioning?

Sit on the throne of knowledge,

partake in the feast of Newton’s apple?

To eat the forbidden fruit,

and cast myself out of the paradise of ignorance,

Minor fissures,

Just hairline cracks,

Spread slowly

At first,

Fine lines on a

Smooth surface;

Creeping across a

Marble plain,

Barely making

A sound, but

Marking - scarring

Once upon a time Goliath fell.

They built buildings on his body

and David walked away without looking back

didn’t know his victory

until he moved

opened the door

to have his pebble drop at his feet

There’s a simple liberating joy

In being different,

Being obtuse,

Having that little bit of self outside of normality,

Askew

People will either embrace it,

Or reject it.

Some will revel and thrive in their unlikeness,