Long Neighborhood Poems
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My elementary school was a box full of broken crayons.
You know, the kind that no one likes to use because they fit inside your hands like a hug that lasts three seconds too long.
Me and my classmates wore
hand-me-down smiles.
They were too big for our faces. We figured that eventually we would somehow grow into the sound of our own laughter, put on our happiness like gloves and wear our skin as if our bodies were made by Louie Vuitton, just hoping to be more than tattered pages ripped from the torso of coloring books.
More than the aftermath of two runaway trains headed to the same direction. Our parents drove their affection without insurance, and we are just head on collisions with no coverage. We got shattered windshields for eyes, and tongues made out of safely glass held together by super glue. It’s no wonder we spoke broken English.
With an entire orchestra drowning inside our throats, veins like guitar strings, our voices cracked like the self esteem of single mothers who carried us in their wombs like Molotov cocktails, and prayed that we would somehow find a way to mature into land mines
exploding underneath the feet that have trampled them for too long. These women, they dream in a language only fully understood by the tiles of an abortion clinic on a busy afternoon.
They raised us on top of broken promises made by men with grape jelly in their spines who were too busy jamming to their own
two-cent mix tape that they chose over their priceless women.
We didn’t come with a screwdriver. There is no picture on our box to show you what we should look like when this all is over.
We were just put into this world with a note that read
“Some assembly required.”
We were built inside of a neighborhood that looked as though it was slowly loosing a fist fight to cancer and kemotherapy claimed all of it’s dreams.
You see at a young age I was told that no matter how much furniture you move with a Honda Civic, it’ll never be a pick up truck
but have you ever wanted to be more than what you were made for?
Was there ever moment in your life when all you wanted was to be more than the wounded options that circumstance has nailed to your shoulders?
People question why we even have the audacity to breathe. That’s why when we walk it looks as though we are apologizing for our lungs.
But we ate not sorry for living this loudly.
It’s the only way we know how.
Stroll through the Illest Empire
So much heat feeling like we’re living in the fire
But we’re living under fire
Tell me how many shots must it take before my loved ones are crying at my own wake
Its time for a break from sad eyes I’ve seen grown men cry
It hurts to tell a loved one good-bye
It’s the same reason why they died
Hearts just too full of pride
Mothers praying their young’n wont be a victim of a homicide
Too many drive-bys blood shed for a block you really can’t call mine
Wishing we could turn back time
High off of nickels’ and dimes
Making moves to boost your grind looking for hope
But the hustle got us in a head choke
Don’t blame me for acting crazy cause this how the streets made me and you
To watch our back and throw bows and cuss
Cause you got to be tough when times are rough
I know your asking when will enough be enough
And truth is I don’t know but this is how it goes down
But if I make it out will you smile for me now
So many families struggling with poverty
I don’t judge cause that use to be me
Watching mom come home late
Barley any food on our plate
So young and life we already hate
Praying God bring us something great
My clothes were cheap imitates and kids called you on them for being fake
Knowing mom bust her ass to provide
But all your knock offs you begin to hide
Ashamed of what you own
I know how you feel I been there too
I see mothers walking there kids to school
And the walk is far when you cant afford a car
Mom hoping one day you’ll be a star
I know about being next to poor
Your local neighborhood liquor market is your grocery store
Wishing you didn’t have to go through that living off of food stamps
Cube the neighborhood is a trap but we’ll all be free
So smile for you and me
Even 2pac said smile for me
This isn’t how its always going to be unless you let it be
In our different way we’re all a G
Cause we’re trying to make it straight legit
Whatever your hustle never quit but don’t lose yourself in it
Cause you still got a long ways to go
Still got a long time to grow
Use what you know to get by or you wont survive
Remember to always keep your dreams alive
Whatever it is just do it and never try
The limit is the sky so keep your heads held high
And when you come to a hard road just always know nothing can keep you down
You’ll be able to come back around
So give yourself a chance
And I’ll smile for you now
JUNE ‘06
B.K.M.jr
I was a classic 1957 Chevrolet Bel-Air, in mint condition, admiral and white.
My owner had other beautiful, classic cars, like stars sparkling into twilight.
My owner loved his old cars, saying 'they don't make them like they used to;'
And I enjoyed getting out upon the open road, to show him what I could do.
My fellow cars and I saw lots of sunny days, in bliss freedom of the flowers,
Traveling the length and breadth of this land, in the clasp of jeweled hours.
Flighty friends and I recalled 'good old days,' in rosy sunset times of finally,
Laughing and talking our memories in darkness, as moon shone, indefinably.
Forever friends were like feeling family, in the floral days of fuchsia's reign;
When flitting, green butterflies fanned for long, and falcons flew like a train.
I lived in the house of pleasant shadows, which didn't have many windows;
For it was one huge room without a view, like a path without the primrose.
Sparkling summer sauntered in silently, creating such scenes on my street!
Silken clouds roamed, when Sam ran his errands. Traveling was ever a treat.
Neighbors made admiring noises about me, going off on rides in neon night.
We cars were the toast of the neighborhood, nice nostalgia, in a golden light!
Clown orchids had ceased performing, in gone days of purple, beard orchids.
Now their summer relative had the holy ghost, like bliss from many sources.
Mask flowers held beautiful mystery, in alluring hues of pink, cream and red;
Like sweet secrets of moonlit shadows, and violet dreams after going to bed.
Once, Sam and I were cruising Sunset Highway, for it was my turn that day;
While dear friends waited in the cool, quiet of home, for their chance to play.
I felt a sudden impact on my left, and I knew I was hurt! There was damage;
But if not for Sam's expert driving, we might not have been able to manage!
This had happened to me times before. Such is to be expected in a long life.
As ever, friend Sam was my Superman, my mechanic in times of cruel strife.
My convalescence didn't seem so long, as I laughed about old days with pals.
When streets were not very busy, and many listened to front porch musicales.
For we were darling, daring trailblazers, quaint old paving way for all modern,
Leaving lingering feelings of fond nostalgia, like lovely fall leaves which yearn!
Homeward Path 11/08 Roger M. Landry
Wise men say, stay out of the fray,
And perhaps that is logical, and even soundly psychological.
They advise, do not go my son into the dark wood; you will only come to no good.
And I ask, if the road is less traveled, it will leave me baffled?
The trail in the forest tall could it leave me feeling forever small?
Alone, will I not even hear the sound of the stately tree’s fall?
In my craven travels, shall I perhaps see the pellucid pillars of heaven seven,
Or experience the depraved depths of perdition?
But, what if there is no one there to tell?
No singing angels, or laughing demons from hell.
Shall I be weary of my iconoclastic dreams?
Because, in my youth, I had magic visions of being the princely toad,
Of crossing elegantly the paved road to fame.
However, carrion birds now read, feed on my bloody entrails strewn along the lane.
Now, I only wake up in the fevered night, no princess to soothe my stifled screams.
Beaten and torn, shall I become the salacious stripper of old?
That, with nagging words, expresses my vulnerable, and sagging soul.
Like a lost muse, shall the tiger burning bright, in the forest of the night,
Become my one and only frightful and guiding light?
I can see quite far from the gritty solitude of a lofty mountain.
But, would rather sit with my smiling children by a bubbling fountain,
Have someone park my expensive car,
Or sip beer, with friends, in a quaint neighborhood bar.
Going on a shopping spree and wearing designer clothes,
I think, is superior than to society loathe.
To have opulent gold is better than writing poetry in poverty, wouldn’t you agree?
Or, would it be better if I contemplate my fate, eternally alone, under a frigid night star,
While I pluck loose strings on an out of tune guitar?
They say that if you favor the glacier-blue, the flavor will get inside of you.
Now that I have made enough bad choices, because of those niggling internal voices,
I am eternally lost, my mind unloosing in a wilderness of my own choosing.
Like a pharaoh, I know there is a divine treasure in my head,
But, I work and work, feel dead, and just can’t get out of bed.
The road has its own agenda, to which I know my heart must surrender,
Therefore, I shall curb my shameful wrath,
And trust that my soul knows its homeward path.
Form:
Tale of two angels
who lived in a poor neighborhood
who thought nothing would work
but God knew it would.
Everyday they woke up to nothing
no food, no water, no new clothes
but no one knew
but only God knows.
Their mother prayed everynight
to the Lord on the thrown,
wishing all her tears and troubles
would one day be gone.
She did the best she could
all that she could
to raise her beautiful daughters
on her own and everyday this is what she told them.
"I gave you wings to fly
and a mouth to confess and never tell a lie.
I gave you lungs and air to breathe
I gave you a shoulder to lean on
when you couldn't beat the speed."
One Christmas Eve,
the girls were bored
so their friends invited them to a church.
Instead of having nothing to do,
in the church they did discover who...
they discovered a youth meeting being held
in the back of the church.
They walked into the room
just as steady as they pleased,
they sat down on their knees
and listened to what their was left to say,
which made them quite pleased.
They went home after the sermon,
went to their room, got on their knees
and began to cry, they sat on the floor
in her time of weakness and dispare
to think and wonder how much their mother really cared.
Shouting out to the Lord, they did scream
their love for God had grown
every stitch and seam.
"Lord she has done so much
to provide for us
now can you hold her hand and stand beside us.
Christmas is not about presents, it's about
celebrating your birthday, your name
its not about growing up in fortune and fame.
Lord you are God
and we know you will provide
but I pray this pray
to the heavenly father that sits on his thrown
in the sky." They prayed this prayer over and over again
until there was nothing left to hear
except for the sound of the wind.
The next morning they woke up to find
a tree full of presents,
a table with breakfast already made,
and a dinner being prepared as if for a hundred slaves.
The family rejoiced
because God would always make a way
when things were going wrong
a way was made out of no way.
He started with little and everything multiplied
they rejoiced so much
their praises did reach the sky.
It started to rain
"Don't worry child, Jesus is crying
and rejoicing to because we are so blessed
to have two little angels like you."
Form:
Once upon time's center
grows two permaculturing farmers,
multicultural mediators
of Earth's healthy polypathic remainder,
And, surrounding them,
seven elders
and their cheer leading mascot
of disabling foolery
Arriving each spring
in his wheeled chair
to witness
and sometimes loudly prophecy,
to entertain with his win/win intentions,
studying compassionate economics
and empowering politics
and enlightening neurological communion
v dissonance.
These aged and playful snowbirds
form a Wisdom Circle
conjoined by all farmers
Committed to Earth's health care
in humble Vermont neighborhood places
spaces balancing Green Lives Matter races
into organically interdependent co-investments.
This Circle plans cooperative gardens,
MultiCulturally designing
and redesigning shared outdoor climate spaces
in and on now abandoned places
they purchase together
to divest of Green Commons neglect
and invest in a local cooperatively-held enterprise
With land and water and healthy air-based capital
where patient customers
become curious partners
contributing cash
but also labor,
beauty
and nutritional equity,
gracious investment
and/or benignly viral infestment.
This Green Wisdom Circle
plants fruit and nut trees,
vegetables EarthMothers insist they eat
and would like as much as fruit sweet
if they remain of right/left balancing mind.
They plant hemp,
and make baskets
and yoga mats
during dispersed winters
into the retiring diaspora
season for planning futures
of health restoring EarthJustice.
Circles of weavers
and knitters
turn lambs
into shorn sheep
into yarn
into blankets
socks
sweaters
skullcaps
winter masks
with ear **** handles.
Eventually
this Circle will reincarnate Wisdom
into Fire Circles for compline meditations
and story telling
into Singing Circles
of care medication
for young through old,
for those present living now,
and here dead
and yet to arrive
within all sacred regenerating species,
Egos circling within ecosystems,
interweaving networks
of TruthSeeker Circles
sharing win/win BeautyVisions,
Communion Farming Centers
within nonviolent communication systems
for engaging nutritional health,
Sacred ZeroCore recovery Allies,
not Lone Warriors,
within Earth's fully present
compassionate
care giving as receiving
green old as new deal Circles.
In ecstatic climaxing designs
for healthy multicultural communications
ecopolitically correcting
currently imbalanced
unhealthy
disempowering outcomes
Our most resiliently robust productions
derive from nonviolent communions,
compassion restoring cooperative
healthy EarthJustice
Resilient democracy
co-invested in green peace
repurposing relationships for mutual equity,
co-empathic integrity,
win/win cooperativity.
This NonZero HomeZone
is our most authentic open design
for health and safety systemic thrival,
composed of egocenter's integral survival,
Self/Other
Me/We extending primal family zones
of great regenerational transition,
safely within our primary shelter
for cooperative relationships
with neighboring boundary habitats.
Zone One,
furthers interdependently defined
loneliest shade of Othering neighborhood properties
since the number TwoZones
in co-passionate thriving re-membered relationship
within our municipal
eco-political
democratic communication,
designing unitarian green communities
with woke regional interreligious education
and nondualistic natural/spiritual
indigenous wisdom reformation
Sharing Zone Two
lived fully
gratefully
gracefully in our daily
sacred experienced community
conjoining double-bound interreligious cultural connections
to our eco-politically ego/eco-organizing
HealthCare Design Team
for Golden Ruled bioregional optimization
of wealthy co-invested atmosphere,
ecological soil,
cultural drinking water
interwoven in this robust economic climate
of cooperative design
for win/win multicultural compassion.
Completing this holonic Open System Fractal
is Zone Three,
Gaian EarthMother
still cooperatively rebirthing
healthy
resilient
spring climaxing climates
remediating rebirth
with all cooperatively designing
organic EarthTribe species,
Currently excluding anthrosupremacist Zone Four
LeftBrain dominant
dualistic commodified employment
of de-nihilistic CAPITAL-HEADED fundamentalists
worshiping anti-recreative professional consumer design
bowing to an autocratic StraightWhite militarized altar
of politically uncorrected Patriarchal Capitalism
suboptimal disassociations
settling for win/lose normativity
ZeroSum pathologically uncaring
lose/lose entropic absence
of regenerative health is trusted wealth
bicameral design.
I am dreaming the past
Past when KBC was the only station
Each morning started with the anthem of the nation
We had to know your intention
Before saying anything through the station
Each anchor had a level of education
While talent was just an addition
Any deviation
Captured the important attention
Of the head of the nation
Dreaming my past
Is all I want to do last
Streams of dreams I rather forget fast
Like dreams from my father
That choices have consequences
A grammatical sentence that became our sentence
Is every correctly stated statement correct?
This kind that litters my mind
Making me bitter
Tearing my heart into litres of tears
These dreams make me shy
Shy to try mention my name
My name that brings me shame
Shame I cant tame
Cant tame because my mind is lame
Tell me why my kind cant cry
When all I dream are tongues of fire
From gangs on hire
With orders from higher
Higher rot that burns like fire.
Dreaming that I cant have money in my pocket
Without getting something in their jacket
Vampires so scary
Scattered in my neighborhood
Thirsty for the last drop of my blood
Limiting my limitless potential
Potential so essential
For resource mobilization
With equal allocation not hurting expectation
For relocation before suffocation.
Dreams to revitalize my generation
A possible solution for this situation
In transformation of my nation
To grow without corruption
That is like sugar
Sweeter it becomes
And disaster it welcomes
But I dare dreams
Of peaceful elections
An end to preventable infections
Through certified injections
And an education without leakage
As a privilege
For everyone in my village
Laying my head on the pillow
Feels like my heart becomes hollow
From the beams of dreams that follow
Makes me want to jump from the window
And fall on the ground so low
Flickering pain into my bone marrow
Afraid it could happen again on the morrow
What do you see in your dreams?
Streams of dreams that my head cant keep
Make me wish for beams of dreams to turn the leaf
Of people who have a resolve and a belief
That we are better together
And we need each other
Without a bother
Of clannism
Of tribalism
Of racism
But a nation of inclusion
By implementation of all legislation
In word and spirit
Envisioned in our constitution
That beams our dream.
It was the summer of ‘70 when we first met in Chicago land.
By the summer of ‘71, I had asked for your hand in marriage,
and YOU SAID YES.
In the summer of ‘72, we said, “I do” and went on our honeymoon.
We later found a cozy apartment in a nice north-side neighborhood.
Less than three months later, we were asked to run a little school.
So, we headed for southern Wisconsin, because again, YOU SAID YES.
Under unfortunate circumstances, the school was forced to close, and in less than 18 months we headed back to Chicago. Our first child was born during
our short-lived stay in Wisconsin. We had great friends there. You could have said, “No, let's stay in Wisconsin”. But you believed in me, and yet again, YOU SAID YES.
Later on, the organization with which I worked secured new leadership, and I
chose to go in a different direction. I found a good new job and an even nicer apartment not far from the lake. Our little girl was less than a year old, but it seemed I was restless and destined to do new things and go to new places.
With a good family, a good job, and a nice place to live, one would think that settling down would be the appropriate thing to do. But within less than a year of being back in Chicago, I spoke to you about moving to Mississippi to help the poor and start a church. I would have understood if you had said no; but in the summer of ‘74, YOU SAID YES.
By the summer of ‘78, the Mississippi fever had run its course, and the California sunshine was heavy on my mind. Although it would take us 2,000 miles away from family and friends, you never said, “No, I don’t think we should go”. But you believed in me, and yet again, YOU SAID YES.
As I look back, you saying yes means so much to me. It means that you have always believed in me during our 44 years of marriage. During those early years, I experienced some defeats and at times was also mistreated.
Had you not believed in me, I am certain that I would have retreated.
For any measure of difference that my life has made and is making in our world, I am indebted to you and grateful to God for bringing you into my life. For all those years that you have stood by my side and always believed in me, I pause just now and say, “Thank you”. I want to thank you for being so kind, and for always being the very best friend of mind.
I used to steal to make a living
Now I catch those with horrible upbringings
I was a legend in my neighborhood until high school
Then I was taught that stealing and mischief was not cool
I served in the Navy after school for four years
Now I am a DARE cop in the districts ears
I have busted several students with drugs
Discovering their drug dealers lowly scugs
I had one case that took my heart away
A young mans courageous story I am about to relay
His name is Kyle Summers a 5th grader
His efforts were never greater
His older brother Mike was part of a local gang
Murder Mike was his alias nickname
He never murdered anyone though he did like to fight
One afternoon he picked a fight that wasn’t right
A drug dealer Cameron Danz was lacing his Marijuana with meth
Which wasn’t likely to be anything less then death
Mike saw this and confronted Cameron about who was to receive
It was a couple of first timers with a curiosity for weed
Take their money and get rid of some customers was his plan
For he had no more coming in for a monthly span
A fight ensued when the first timers where his brothers friends
He was hospitalized because Cameron hit him with his Benz
At the hospital Mike told Kyle of the horrible intentions
So Kyle set out for their fates prevention
He ran to me while school was just starting
And I called their parents to give them warning
They relayed that the kids already left for school
I jumped in my car and looked for them too
Kyle had seen the drop off point and left school to help
When he showed up the drugs where being dealt
Kyle shouted as loud as he could to warn
They heeded his call and cast away the drugs in the barn
Cameron was infuriated with this and dashed
With all the drugs and a fair amount of cash
Smiles filed the boys faces when he ran
Though they never expected to see him again
He returned with a gun and held them in place
“Beg or you get it in the Face!”
Kyle held still and yet maintained eye contact
That’s what set off his violent attack
Cameron shot in a rage and emptied the clip
In shock Kyle fell forward more than a slip.
I showed up and tackled Cameron just a little late
I couldn’t save him he soon met his fate
In my eyes he saved his friends and died
Though now I live with it and sometimes cry