He died facing the dawning east
While the raiders gathered for feast
His blood that dripped on pristine soil
Caused the hog-tied bloods to boil
The war he waged with mighty pen
Kept waging every now and then
Until the sun of liberty
Shone for the whole world to see
*In celebration of 125th independence day*
June 13, 2023
Summer memories
That Friday night
If I could have thought of something
When he was looking
125th street
the pictures
see them again
see them a thousand times
same as the old ones anyway
the night
people on the street
go home and sleep
its Monday again
the summer went to fast
in the park
a dim light flicked though his window
how did I get here?
stopping to catch his breath
staring out the window
he didn’t turn around
Does time matter to a sleepless city?
Waiting for the train to come…it'll be here eventually
Most likely it won't even have my stop.
Hop on hop on while others hop off.
This particular track wasnt meant for them.
Next stop Lexington and 125th street
UPTOWN. The voice crackles over the speaker.
5 more stops
5 more stops.
Close but not exact, the train is never exact.
The weak scavenge for a place to sit
while the sturdy stand upright.
Stand clear of the closing doors.
Humans packed tight together,
cause for complete strangers to share conversation
Stand clear of the closing doors.
Open Close
The breaks screech again.
Open Close
On and Off
Still I stand strong keeping seats open for the ones who deserve it.
Does hard work really pay off?
A city worker with a broken back is still broke.
While a Wall Street broker affords to lose enough money
to feed his family for an entire year.
On and off they go
On and off they went
busy bees and worker ants crawling on a ball of dirt.
125th BEAT
He and I strolled the streets in the rain
he and I strolled the streets in pain
each hoping the man on 125th street would be there
two young white boys strolling the streets in fear
we'd heard the man had some extraordinary dope
but when no one answered his door we lost all hope
there ain't nothing worse than a door that stays closed
he and I strolled the streets without a prayer we supposed
he and I had a burning dug deeply in our souls
each with the same dreams and goals
we shared a heart that hurt inside
and cared about nothing but for our pain to subside
he and I looked for the man on 125th street
walking bent over, weak, sick and beat
our today and our tomorrows would never be made clear
as two young white boys strolled the streets in fear
© 2012....copyright PHREEPOETREE ~free cee!~
A HUNDRED AND TWENTY FIFTH BEAT
He and I strolled the streets in the rain
he and I strolled the streets in pain
each hoping the man on 125th street would be there
two young white boys strolling the streets in fear
we'd heard the man had some extraordinary dope
but when no one answered his door we lost all hope
there ain't nothing worse than a door that stays closed
he and I strolled the streets without a prayer we supposed
he and I had a burning dug deeply in our souls
each with the same dreams and the very same goals
we shared a heart that hurt inside
and cared about nothing but for our pain to subside
he and I looked for the man on 125th street
walking bent over, weak, sick and beat
our today and tomorrows would never be made clear
two young white boys strolled the streets in fear
© 2012....copyright PHREEPOETREE ~free cee!~
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