Knicks

Waiting at the bus stop,
Jamming to some hip hop,
Checkin’ on my wrist watch
Clock is running tick-tock

And he made his way down the block
Walking in my direction,
With his face hanging behind that faded fitted

He is the boy that never goes home
Who thinks selling dope and
having high hopes makes him grown

Late nights on street corners,
Protecting urban borders,
Claiming blocks for blood,
selling rocks for what?

He nodded at me and I smiled back
not ever ignoring the bloodstains on his shoe laces
He was a gangster

And I never understood how such a bright boy
could be such a coward
Because that’s what they are all
Cowards who hide behind colors
Blue and red tied brothers
who leave their sisters and mothers
How could you?

Whose familiar face standing beside me
As if we never shared the same last name
Cameron

For all those times that you pushed me from the doorway
Just to kiss the sunset with your piff

I prayed for your protection
I prayed that you would never forget
mommies’ and daddies’ lesson
and that my love for you will never lessen

And I prayed that a bullet will never befriend your skin, I prayed
That someday you will understand
that being a brave street soldier in the dark
still made you a coward come sunrise

And sometime I feel that you may be color blind
Because I do not understand how you see strength
in your blacks and reds
When you have blacks and blues tattooed all over you.

So tell me what side do you belong to
when your lips are synced supo....
but your eyes are swimming in cripped colored kisses
mixed with hints sdfnarega...
ajrngjeag...

They got you
now you have an appetite for revenge

too proud to bleed for the bullet
yet quick to let finger tips lit triggers
your fine arms are too short to box with God

I remember when you told me
that you favorite rapper was TuPac
and I bet you wonder if heaven has got a ghetto

but you will never know because attempting to play God
and pimping mother nature
will never get you high enough to get there

so he will just send his angels down to tell you
that it is TuPac for one more gangster

and now you are off to hell’s home, homie
where you won’t have back pocket
for your blood colored bandannas to hold on to
like umbilical cords connecting you to the wind
you will just be dead skin
lost like the next of kin
of all your other blood brothers who sin

and all your fighting for meaning nothing any more
because in hell you will no longer
have your boys willing to die for you

just demons waiting to dance with you
holding out red roses that used to be white
before they used them to clean the messes
you made when you were still alive
what are you thinking?

you coward
running from your own light
shaking hands with the darkness
as if you were never taught to recognize the sun
mommie’s son
my brother

I just wanted to make you come home
make you breakfast in the morning
and remind you how beautiful blood can be
when it is not used as paint on concrete canvases
but when it is served aeruhgiureg on kitchen tables..

and as my bus pulls up,
I rummage through my pockets for my dollar
wishing I too had a faded fitting to hide my face beneath
because I would hate for you to see me cry for you too

and as I step onto that bus and walk over to my seat
I silently pray to God
that he will forgive me for calling you a coward

because who am I to call you a coward
when I couldn’t even find the strength to tell you how I felt
couldn’t share my quick healed cuts with you
and the tears that raced down my cheeks

so fast to prove that blood is indeed thicker than water
My brother

you stayed at the bus stop as we drove away
and I don’t know if my bus wasn’t going in your direction
or if you just lost your direction
years ago in the red silk lining of papi’s coffin

but I won’t dwell
I will sleep tonight
not forget to dedicate my prayers to you.

Wake up in the morning,
get dressed and
if you find yourself missing your little sister
I will just be...

Waiting at the bus stop,
Jamming to some hip hop,
Checkin’ on my wrist watch
Clock is running tick-tock

Each breath comes closed
With a nightmare tremor,
But I'll try to close my eyes
Once more,
To sleep,
But not to wake.

He watched her from across the street
She let the dishes pile up but always washed her sheets
He knocked on her door at midnight one time
He needed a bible for last seconds, so he gave her a dime
All she could find was her mother's lucky penny
So she prayed for his soul and she didn't pray for many
He came to her clean bed through her door jam the next day
She was uncertain why she had stayed
When he left he kissed her over the windowsill with splinters in his lips
She didn't kiss him back and he pulled at her hips
She spit in his mouth and drew blood from his tongue
So he fled quickly, and escaped with air in one lung
She shot arrows with her eyes from over her kitchen sink
She hit him in the back while he was sipping a strong drink
He drowned in his blood with glass still in hand
She burned his house down and cursed the ashy land
They took her away with silver around her wrists
But even naked behind bars, up her sleeves were still tricks

such a pretty
smith and wesson
what a shame
you don't know
how to use it

don't confuse
arrogance for
confidence
or you will
dance alone

bite me you
saccharine queen

eat my shorts and shoes and dreams

Spring
A young boy runs through the forest, giggling with excitement.  He had been trapped in the house all winter: kept inside by his parents to defend him from the cold.  The boy runs and runs, driven by the boundless energy that children have.  There is so much to explore in this self-reviving wonderland, so much fun to be had.  Slowly, the boy comes to a stop.  He looks up, mystified by the expanse surrounding him.  It’s so large, so incomprehensibly large.  Buds of new life emerge everywhere around him and melted snow drips from the treetops.  He looks down and sees the small sapling of a tree.  The boy studies it, examines every inch of the tree: the small leaves, the tiny, delicate stems.  Fascinated by the simple treasure he has found, the boys sits in silence to admire his find for a short while, then runs home to share his discovery with Mom and Dad.

Summer
A couple, teenagers, stroll through the forest, laughing as they go.  The forest is completely green now, alive, thriving.  Thin rays of sunlight trickle through the cover that the thick canopy above has created and warm the cool air.  It’s mid-morning and the constant, peaceful hum of the forest fills the air.  The couple comes to the tree, larger now, and sits down to rest in it’s small patch of shade.  They continue talking, teasing each other until they run out of things to say, and then silence.  They sit together, hand in hand.  He looks at her and senses something turn deep inside of him.  She shifts and a ray of sunlight illuminates her face.  She closes her brown eyes.  The boy leans in close to her and feels the warmth of her breath on his face.  He leans in closer and feels the smooth, subtle touch of her lips on his own.  They stay that way for a moment, taking in the sensation, and then he leans back: his first kiss.

Fall
A man walks through the forest, his arm stretched out below his waist so he can hold his daughter’s tiny hand in his own.  They walk side by side, her little legs taking long paces to keep up with his larger ones.  They come to the tree and sit at its base, facing each other.  He tells her a funny story from his past that she gleefully giggles at.  The man feels an overwhelming sense of joy when he looks at her happy face; her twinkling eyes and a smile so large it shows every one of her teeth.  He has never been more thankful for anything in his life.  He feels a tear come to his eye but he wipes it away; she is still too young to understand tears of happiness.  He opens his arms wide in a familiar gesture to her.  She jumps into them, embracing him.  They stayed that way for a while, silent, until he tells her “I love you, I love you…”, once for every orange leaf he sees loftily float to the ground.

Winter
An old man walks through the forest, snow crunching beneath his feet.  He takes small, slow steps, grasping the beauty of the forest he has come to know so well.  The air is thin and harsh on his aged lungs.  It bites at his nose and uncovered ears, reddening them.  The naked branches of the familiar trees around him seem to reach up to the heavens, begging for an end to the cruel winter.  The man comes to his tree and studies it, just as he did the day that he found it so many years ago.  “Oh, how we’ve grown,” he says.  He thinks back on his life: his accomplishments, his failures, the ones he’s loved.  He’s had a good life.  The old man sits down, his back resting against the strong truck of the tree: his favorite spot in the world.  He closes his eyes.  In the silence of the forest and with a smile on his face, he falls into an eternal sleep.