She never met her father,
And barely knew her mom..
Double shifts and nights out made it seem like she was gone..
So Natalya became Mom&Dad; at sixteen.
This is the story of a child and a mother turned a fiend.

I met her, whilst I was out skipping rocks.
But we don't have a creek, it was the sewers by the park.

I was younger then, naive & a bit cowardly..
But the sense that this girl needed somebody just clouded me,

So i asked her why she came around these parts when it was midnight,
where danger tends to lurk....
She thought about it for a second. Then looked up at me confused yet gave out a little smirk.....

All she said was You. You.?

She said she saw me last week, I probably didn't recall.
She was begging for some change by a bus stop in the mall.

I remembered...

But this time she looked awfully pale, hadn't eaten for weeks,
At least I could treat her out for a feast.

or so I thought...

She suddenly asked me if I could spare some change..
On some she needed to get home before it started to rain.
I said Natalya its 1 am, there's no buses or trains?
But i certainly don't mind walking you to the apartments by Main.

she said she had moved, and i'd be frightened if she took me.
I told her, trust me I had been to hoods that hadn't shook me,

Then she asked me if I had been to a cemetery before?
Looked down towards her feet and they weren't touching the floor.



-afj

it was a tuesday afternoon, in the middle of june,
this barternder and blue moon will surely be my demise..
Its become a routine, every week im a fiend but suddenly to my surprise...

A woman walked in standing at 5'4, seeemingly hungover and beat.
Eyeliner & lipstick fading..lookin as if she couldnt find sleeep,
her hair has half *****, half curly and partly braided.
she sat on the stool next to me partly *** what i stated...
I said "welcome! take a seat, this is the sober section, besides. all the good seats are taken".
She smiled, more like a smirk, then proceeded to sit, at first oddly looking a bit shaken..

i noticed she was young, pobably barely 21, and she had a tattoo on her back, as she reached for her purse...
Clearly i didnt kno her origin, but an idea i was formin, especially when her art read, 'beauty is a curse'...
Clearly she was gorgeous. Green eyes with a brown complexion..
I asked her in awe which town she was sent from?..

She said she was from the bay..
grew up in her mommas house but now shes living with her bae,
I said oh word, whos the lucky man who gets to keep you???.
She said God......
*** she doesnt need to mess with people.

what brings her here,?
in this bar by the pier,
where theres something in the beer, making normal people fear.

She said she came to spread the word of God....
immediately i figure shes a fraud.

Hows a 'martini, piercing on her lip, tattooed from her back to her hip,
looking like she wont tip....'
typa girl claiming to be holy?

She smiled, more like smirk, and whispered,........
you dont even know me.

And proceeded to say she came in this bar because there was a presence of a demon in disguise..

I laughed are u sure it isn't just u?
She held up a mirror. I saw a demon in my eyes.





-afj

She's such a visionary,
she pictures art where peasants revel...
had a near death experience, said she even saw hell...
She sees potential in me, despite the times that i fell..
she convinced me to keep throwing pennies in wells..
not because she believes in myths and superstitions...
but because she sees homeless people dig in after all the wishin..
So on a good day, i throw in a few quarters, she sees i care.
But im no hero i just want Ms. Adeline to be aware..

Everything she sees, and envisions she blesses. & Everyone agrees...
So i tell her.
Never take your lovely eyes off the world, please.

She promised me she wouldn't, ever since she saw God.


What makes her see goodness?, what makes her so kind?.....
if only the world knew, Ms. Adeline was born blind.




-afj

humble wills, with violent tasks.
forgotten souls with guns & masks..
noisy threats, awake at dawn,
how long will this commotion last?

No one cares,
that the cemeteries are running low on space.
the mothers bid their sons farewell upon leaving the gates.
worried, & scared to death i can see it in their face..
We shouldn't have to **** each other to win the human race...

the so called "leaders" dont care that the youngins are at war..
if only they knew the humility that was once in their core.
never setting foot in the battlefield unless its safe to explore..
Politicians never get to see the carnage and gore..

new jim crow.
minimum wage might grow..
but so will the price on the head of a foe.

So the young soldier puts his gat by the pencil box in his pouch..
he knows if he ever needs another magnum that its under the couch...

& as long as his colors stay Piru, he'll forever be blessed...
But no one seems to talk about the post traumatic stress.
.................
Cursed to not follow this order..
it ends up as a disorder..
Revenge turns to a diss, order.
till a bodies rotting in the sewers & you cant stand this odor.

(Tonys song.)



-afj

I think "we are the hands of God"
but look to see ungodly people
ignore the signs for acts of Grace.

I think they think "why help these people
who do not help themselves?"
and I speak not the will of Jesus,
But of economy and inability,

"guide the lost and care
for the helpless."

They question God's presence,
scoff "some Master Plan"

but you cannot blame God
when our people are starving,
for he has provided us with plenty
if we would only split it together.

Each unanswered trial
is a lesson for someone,
an opportunity to reach out
and correct others, teach others.

I look around and think
"He must have great faith in us,
to hear us use His name in vain,
and still trust us to help
the children in this world walk."

I look and do not ask
for a kneeling prayer,
but for God's hands
to be used united in peace.


6/3/14
edited 7/29/14
P. Propper

Everybody died today,
metamorphosis - never completed.
Maturity entrapped the folks,
even the children, teeny, tiny babes,
The stars never danced in their eyes;
the sky wouldn't allow Starry Nights.
I only ever told stories, those Wisdoms
passed on from my grandpap,
dissed in the corners of the streets,
I look up for my internal stars
and wish these people would combust
and finally clear the air
so my grandpap could breathe.

he only wanted to be heard


7/30/14
PPropper