Long Streetwise Poems
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the wind was roaring
an open road forever-
trees a blur of green
My brother brought him home for supper one day,
I recall it was a beautiful warm day in the month of May.
I hung on the back of his powerful motorcycle, happiness
Oh, this was love! I had never felt such joy- in my young heart
He was everything that my parents hated
Rough, streetwise, a real bad boy, reckless
To me he was a guy that God himself created
He left me breathless and my memory is endless
But a life with him would have been dumb and careless
__________________________
December 23, 2016
Poetry/Verse/Haiku/Couplet/Free Verse/Quintain/
My First Date and Love- A Poet's Dozen
Copyright Protected, ID 16-738-196-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
For the contest, A Poet's Dozen 2, First Date,
sponsor, Silent One
Third Place
In Hip City/Tony Adamo
where rhythms collide, and no jive is spoken/
Guru laid down the truth, a fusion of jazz and rap/ no holds barred streetwise rap talk/ Just as Herbie’s touch on keys/ his Headhunters laid down their stretching rhythm with Mike Clark, drums, and Paul Jackson bass, (God Made Me Funky)
echoing all over the ears in the streets/
Digable Planets breathed life
into conversations, with their subgenres into rap, jazz and hip hop/
The DP’s spoken word rap jazz hit the airwaves with their debut album (A New Refutation of Time and Space)/
Brooklyn NY was the Digable Planets home base in 1993/
Donald Byrd’s trumpet bustin' out/while the Black Byrds jazz funk blows your mind sky high/ Groove Collective stirred the soul pot with afro-pop/ Latin jazz funk/and old skool hip hop till ya drop/
while Jazzhole’s sick sound wrapped us in rapid-fire bop rap jazz-a- lot dialogue
of funky bass lines and drum machine hot grooves/
Drums beat, turning our feet to the dance floor/
turntables double scratchin’ in time/
congas and the horn section called out with their sweaty beat in funky time/
we jammed under urban lights/ and held each other tight/
where the echoes of legends lingered/ into the hot New York night/
Miles, Wynton, Diz, Trane, and the Bird/ their spirit souls
and massive tones bustin’ out a thousand-fold/
we are the new jazz of today/ with new sounds and a new way to play and listen to what’s being said in our life and political ways/ Ya dig?
She lately hears lyric nightingale at the sole window,
And through its bars witnesses a melancholy moon,
And her heart longs for the freedom of velvety flight,
But lessons she now knows weren't learned too soon!
An innocent victim of childhood abuse and ensuing rage,
In the days of sugar plum fairies and make believe,
A streetwise teenage runaway, who soon lost her way,
After making an unwise choice of whom she would love!
During lights out she makes plans and begins to reminisce,
Knowing in her young heart, it won't always be like this,
Like the transient rainbows that are destined to reappear,
Or the twinkling stars that often grant fervent wishes!
Her youth has mercifully granted her second chances,
In accordance both with beautiful logic and holy decree!
Written on August 19, 2020
For: Woman in Chains Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: John Hamilton
Her Majesty met a Wolf and she presumed
at the end of the day that she met her Wolf knight
in shining armor at least a prototype, little
did she know Wolf had a master plan that she
would be his next prey. In his mind set he thought
he has nothing to lose. He has been scheming and
seeking notability since day 1. was wolf lost, unhealed
who didn't feel loved? Mr. wolf would use swaying words
and make believe fantasies, separating the facts from
fiction, thinking he was being impressive. now her
majesty is now being meticulous and very cautious and
discovered her knight and shining wolf mannerism,
words and actions doesn't tally up with his imaginative
crafty and streetwise, jugglery and concocting
characters thinking he was pulling the wool over her
majesty eyes.
I’m the heartbeat of salsa, the rhythm of the conga,
Where Tito Puente’s spirit still dances on Third Avenue.
My murals speak louder than words—
Che Guevara, Celia Cruz, and the Spirit of East Harlem
Painted on every wall, telling stories of pride.
El Museo del Barrio stands tall,
A testament to our Latinx heritage,
While La Marqueta bustles with flavors of the island.
Oh, you think you’ve got the soul?
I birthed the Harlem Renaissance,
Langston Hughes and Zora Neale Hurston walked my streets.
The Apollo Theater echoes with the voices of legends,
And Rucker Park? It’s where streetball met the NBA.
My brownstones whisper tales of Strivers’ Row,
And Marcus Garvey Park stands as a monument to our history.
But have you seen my festivals?
The Puerto Rican Day Parade lights up 116th,
A sea of flags and music filling the air.
My bodegas hum with reggaeton beats,
And the scent of arroz con gandules wafts through the streets.
We honor our roots with pride and passion,
A community united by rhythm and tradition.
I’ve got my own rhythm, my own flair,
From the sounds of jazz to the gospel in the air.
Sylvia’s serves up soul food with a side of history,
And the Studio Museum showcases Black artistry.
My streets are lined with stories of resilience and grace,
A tapestry woven with every face.
True, our paths have crossed and intertwined,
But our spirits remain distinct, uniquely defined.
El Barrio pulses with a Latin beat,
While Harlem’s heart echoes with African roots beneath.
Together, we form a mosaic so grand,
A testament to the cultures that built this land.
Some children growing up in towns,
Wear sallow faces, sullen frowns.
Streetwise urchins, Jack the lads,
Reminiscent of their dads.
Guttersnipes roam nine to five,
Scrounging food banks to survive.
Toerags daily flout the rules,
Playing truant from rundown schools.
Destitutions plain to see,
With children trapped in poverty.
Urban dwellings, tumbldown,
In the poorest parts of town.
Suburban children lives are fine,
Where peevish youngsters often whine.
For pocket money, mobile phones,
Sadly lacking strong backbones.
Little lords and lady muck,
Born with silver spoons to suck.
Dolly daydreams, demand, designer dresses,
Constantly combing cioffured tresses.
Horrid Hooray Henries, haughty asses,
Pretend to be from upper classes.
Riding lessons, will, in due course,
See little madams gain their own horse.
Suburban life is plain to see,
Where children live in luxury.
Upmarket homes maintained with care,
The sweet smell of success, everywhere.
But the beating heart of any town,
Are children neither up nor down.
These children work hard to succeed,
While helping those who are in need.
Down to earth, no airs or graces,
Pleasant smiles upon their faces.
They live in solid stone abodes,
Down narrow streets and cobbled roads.
No leafy lanes for these progenies,
That are the blossoms on their family trees.
10/ 8/ 2019.
,
The birds chirping remind me of
Soft expressions of natures love
The softness of her almond eyes
Seeing through my streetwise disguise
Blushes revealing hidden truth
Honesty in its pure let soothe
My heart ache, but now my head aches
As with the day my body wakes
Mr. Coffee, it's me again
How’ve you been, its been god knows when
You know the drill, it's par per course
Forgive and get back on the horse
Is it bad that I’m missing her
And everything else is a blur
Ah that aroma, oh so nice
I can’t believe, I broke the ice
Oh ,but my head feels broken too
At least the spinning seems ‘bout through
Poured with every ounce of concentration
With shaky fits of hesitation
Just a few spilled drops here and there
It's all right, right now: I don't care
Feels like I'm swirling down a drain
Loud colors burn my eyes and brain
Sitting relieves some of the pain
Always as bad as a migraine
But, feels so much worse in the vein
Of knowing you're your own worst bane
A piping cup of black coffee
With vanilla almond toffee
Admonishing me, to my right
The parental glaring sunlight
Way too early and way too bright
Oh, but what a glorious night
Stumbling home at quarter past three
I'm a wreck; hoping she calls me
Pretty adorned in scarlet Red
from head to toe undergarment
included
She goes by the name I believe
of those who know her affectionately
as
Roxanne
With matching lipstick and eyeshadow
She has no need for blush as her cheeks
always seem plentiful enough rosy
Which always makes me think when
I see her standing there
Right in full view in front of her bedroom
window brazen as hell dressed no less
in her skimpy negligee lingerie underwear
In fact come to think of it ver strange but
the only time she ever seems to close
her curtains is during the day
When the majority of her male friends pop
round for a quick half an hour or so visit
then leave
Why on earth then doesn't she try
turn the heating down in there
Because given what she is dressed down
in it sure as hell must be hot in there
And I am not quite sure she knows or
is aware that this particular area or
part of town
Has sadly now become over time a bit run
down and gathered a reputation for
being shall we say a tad seedy and
frequented by undesirables
But unfortunately she obviously isn't as
streetwise and as cool as me
Colonel Peeping Tom commanding
officer of my local neighborhood watch
She endured trauma as a child, that shut down her mind
Without safe adults, there was no security to find
She played outside and pretended to run away
She prayed and God answered, he heard what she had to say
She learned about good and evil, at an early age
When her soul with a facade, became stuck in a cage
She was lucky to have natural talents to help her survive
God granted her what was needed to stay alive
She was given strength to endure things, beyond words can say
When she was older, it was time for her to speak and find her way
She investigated the past, fighting to stop others from being hurt
She learned to watch her back, be streetwise while on alert
After 14 years, justice failed with deep corruption, that started back then
Finding the closure she wanted was no longer a matter of when
Family outcasted her, while more losses and deaths came about
The silence of the past had turned into a powerful shout
How did she make it through such painstaking times?
She created in many ways including things like these rhymes
She was granted many good things through so many years
Friends who care, pets who love, much comfort that erased fears
She yearns to love and give to all who may have pain
She will offer to give the sun to anyone, after the rain
I say all this because there is hope in life, through good and bad
- smiles do return from the depths of being sad -
Heidi Sands
12/22/33
4/7/22
When push comes to shove
On and on I trudge
Never reyling on anything below or above
People still judge
Always giving a fudge
And out for blood
At one point I was looking for love
Now I turn to the alcohol and drugs
And struggle with funds
f***ed up drunk and too lit
I overdo it
In a world that can be ruthless
I always drink and smoke too much
Then I start to compute stuff
But with reality, I lose touch
Every single color of the spectrum, not just black and white
Day and night
Life is beautiful yet ugly
Trust me
If you don't care
You'll get nowhere
Never go there
This all is not just from an alcoholic's view
Does well to follow through
It really all does fall on you
Disagree, argue or call it true
Staying streetwise
Won't get far with a weak mind
Told y'all more than three times
That each time
I'll be fine
No need for a peace sign
Don't care about all of the cheats and lies
If you look into these eyes
I need mine
Before it's too late, heed my
Words among humans and animals like felines
On either side of the tree line
And creek side
As time continues coursing
Warning
A storm is forming
During any weather, whether or not it's cold or warming
The same could be said for night and morning
Across the lands
Always willing to dig deep when it got bad
Never went according to and was not planned
Took more than a strong hand
No concern about being 'god damned'
As an honest man