Long Stomping ground Poems
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(or, "Your Old Stomping Ground")
There’s a secretary that I know
whose husband recently died
But life somehow continues as before
She has to keep replicating the myth
that everything’s all right –
A savant of the copy machines
A mannequin in a megastore
There’s a child that I know
who goes to school with bruises
Just a shell of a thing bearing signs
of a nightly artillery attack
When did we start sending
our kids to the frontlines,
And when in the name of Christ
are we calling them back?
You just pretend
Things aren’t crazy
The bandleader’s not deaf
And the King is not a clown
So you defend
The last vestiges of confidence
And stick your flag in the last square
Of your old stomping ground
There’s a family that I know
they only speak in whispers
Afraid to raise their voices
for fear of an alcoholic’s rage
I wonder how they’ll fare
twenty years from now:
Will they ever rise up from their manacles
or their transparent cage?
And there’s a young man that I know
Has his whole life ahead of him
Still stuck on the diving board
over a pool of unemployment
Just wait a while, just wade awhile
Cling to your inflated promises
While you’re stuck in this limbo, might as well
Drown in your enjoyments
You just pretend
It’s getting late now
And the party’s letting out
The stragglers and the drunkards head
for another port of call.
Yet suspect the hosts, the powers that be,
in their senility, misplaced our keys
So we derelicts wander directionless
Like half-ghosts bumping into walls
But we just pretend…
What a weekend I’ve just had
There I was, gaily skipping along
When I got lured down an unknown
path
by the sound of my own voice
I followed, to explore new terrain
Soon got lost in my new found joy
I must have ventured out too far
Or took a wrong turn somewhere
that led me to cross paths with some unexpected
although familiar faces
A few deranged demons that I had ghosted in the past,
decided to confront me
They did find me too long in the tooth
to have my neck nudged into a noose
So they chose instead to drag me
right back to the fiery pits of hell
My old stomping ground as it were
Ushered me in with a rather special
welcome treat
blatant intimidation and pure disdain
My voice had landed me in a hornet’s nest!
All of a sudden having a personal voice,
lost all of its glamour and appeal,
seemed way too risky and a tad overrated
I surrendered to silence right away
and it quickly sprung me out of there
luckily I landed right back at home
It’s a shame I couldn’t stay long enough in hell
to fully enjoy its hospitality
Now that I'm back in my safe space,
I savour each and every glorious gift
brought by that little detour I took
In a way, I’m glad I took that route
It proved to be a great wake up call
that I didn’t even know I needed.
Form:
Written By: D. Collins 5/15/25
To Piggy-back what was said by Kendrick Lamar.
I concur that what he said is the way things are.
Around the corner from me used to be Compton High.
On 120th and Central was that Centennial prize.
I go back in the day to the 1960's.
When Fort McArthur took care of our safety.
I remember Barton Hill in the San Pedro Hills.
Abraham Lincoln in Compton to learn fighting skills.
Junior High was the beginning of what was felt.
7th Grade meant I had to go to Roosevelt.
I lived around the corner from the Pilot House.
A Sailor's stomping ground where mom met pops.
Dear Mama, walking and thinking of my childhood days,
waves of memories crashing in, as I hit replay.
You're in every scene, appearing with the morning light.
I can talk to you, even though you're far from my sight.
I wish I could stop these tears escaping from my eyes.
I am grown; it's the heart of a little girl that cries.
Fragments of memories, they seem to spin 'round and round'
as my heart travels through a familiar stomping ground.
Dear Mama, falling leaves of memories scatter my path.
Start of a new season, running from the grief and wrath.
I hear echoes of footsteps; I'll never be alone.
Your path will be ably tended, never overgrown.
I found your paved path; it's clear, as far as I can see.
Each step a bit easier; you left your shoes for me.
Been beat up and brought down
Been stepped on and spit on
Been lost but now I’m found
O
Lord
I am not going to be the devils punching bag anymore
Been called out MY name
Nothing but the Christian name ma and grandma gave me
Can you call me
And did I tell you I am a child of the LIVING KING
Been beat up and brought down
Been stepped on and spit on
Been lost but now I’m found
O
Lord
I am not going to be the devils punching bag anymore
I'm not gonna be the devil punching bag anymore
I'm not gonna be the devil punching bag anymore
not gonna be the devil punching bag anymore
I digress, yet I am heavenly blessed
And I have past my test
I was down for the ninth count, but I got back up
I not going to be your stomping ground, Satan
I’m not going to let you continually beat me down Devil
I’m not going to allow you to plant seeds of discouragement
I rise up, I RISE above your seas torrents…
My choice is to be the defeater
I choose not to be defeated
I digress, yet I am heavenly blessed
And I have past my test
And did I tell you I am a child of the LIVING KING
I digress, yet I am heavenly blessed
And I have past my test, yes
I digress, yet I am heavenly blessed
And I have past my test, yeah
Alleluia, I digress, yet I am heavenly blessed
And I have past my test
I digress, yet I am heavenly blessed
And I have past my test
O
Lord
I am not going to be the devils punching bag anymore
I'm not gonna be the devil punching bag anymore
I'm not gonna be the devil punching bag anymore
not gonna be the devil punching bag anymore
I digress, yet I am heavenly blessed
And I have past my test
I am not going to be the devils punching bag anymore
3/6/20
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2020©
Treading on topic the logical man fears,
So potent it's like a ringing in his ear,
Its a stomp on his stomping ground without your knowledge,
Of even knowing the affect of its topic,
Defenses rise from an outward view,
While inside the process of growth is becoming brand new,
The boldness of that love is changing their belief,
From a different perspective they may have not seen,
So use to their own outlook, the fear of change,
The comfortable is getting uncomfortable because it's not the same,
Perspectives clash, their seeing new light,
Yet this is part of the process of gaining new sight,
The doors opened in a way unexpected,
Man's control takes a seat, while love redirects it,
For my would•have•been diamond in the rough
I hope my love for you someday will be enough
If it's not, baby, it's all that I've got
Showing my heart mercy is what I ask the lot
'Cause my heartstrings are about to break
In this crazy - and maybe drastic - mistake
I've tried already - and I loved you way too late
If you're ready or not - all I can do is wait
Show me mercy when you proceed to break my black heart
Make us end like a professional masterpiece of art
'Cause the peaceful ending will be coming very soon...
Please save me from your uncertain doom
'Cause your heart for me no longer has anymore zoom
For my unwanted silhouette to loom
In the sad rejected energies of your pink & pillow-princess room
If you change your mind & suddenly want me - I may not be around
'Cause right now I'm in the foyér of another woman's stomping ground
In my piano chair she bought me, I sit and give a quick glance
To the girl who wouldn't ever give me a chance
Who coldly rejected my courageous & overly-infused romance
So if you change your mind and remember you want me
You'll have to find somebody else to set you on fire and free
'Cause right now someone else's delicate heart is tied up vulnerably to me
So please hold your tears if you decide to ever come along
I'm now dancing to another woman's beat & song
She's been good to me from my initial courageous & overly-infused romance
Because she never said no without first giving me the chance...
Saw a blurb on MetFest
Held today, at the museum.*
Musical performances
Outdoors – I had to see ‘em.
A former stomping ground
Pre-Covid, but it’s been a while.
Once there, ‘twas like I never left;
I couldn’t help but smile.
The melting pot that is New York
Was fully there on view,
A pleasure to observe and yes,
Some upbeat music, too.
A group of female drummers
Followed by a cool brass band,
Then a bunch of Double Dutchers
With their jump rope skills on hand.
The locals and the tourists
All applauded, laughed and danced,
Toddlers, teens to wheelchair seniors,
Every passerby entranced.
Vendors set up on the sidewalks,
Food carts had their treats to hawk;
What a lovely day in sunshine
At the MetFest in New Yawk.
*Metropolitan Museum of Art
I fast boy, this aint no foot race
What you playing?
What, you think you got a game ginni in your game pack
Well, I paint Black
And stain them in Pain on rare occasions
Occassionaly coming up in death throes
Dead body is my stomping ground on this beat
My melody be blasting bastards, knocking em backwards
the Force of theses 5 Felonies be unappropriate behaviors
And if you ever seen me in Airstrik...es,
Well, when you seem me you'll be very quiet
And if you thought it was adequate
my accurrecy so precise you can't phantom the damn damage
You know Im real skilled, and the satisfaction of it leaves me upset still
It was Mercy from God for me to carry this pain cause it suits me like it is a deep love
If Seashell's is ever in Hell then I'll be busting a knucklehead if he wants to act a badass
This aint a brag, no we never come in a boast boy,in my conduct I be, I promise you honorable,I standup as I stand for a higher standard
and when i get mad i act bad, When im in a heavy conflict
jaxattacks are my chosen tactics,
And nowhere in my eyes does she see me ever being a leader or getting the best of a ***** when she on my badside
My Blood cleansed that land, I faced the devil slanging quarters and halves in every which direction like my creation changed due to evolution thru the fact that i was moving too ****ing fast man, But i grew out of it like I went from panic to romantic attacks
From the battles with the devil and demons and nets set , and tribulations and Mania and Im still maniac, Still A disciple of Ninjitsu, my senses still keen, iM SINGLE till i get my possessions back, the love in my heart concealed, its so hard to hide my love I feel so many sharp p[ains,Love Felt feel these steel bars they are a million you would have to go thru to hope to find one, a connection u never dectected the quality of,im 10 times 99topics liike im a balla up talking in manner never heard of, be the bang that yo body been starving for, rt