you were like a library
filled with stories
bounded in different dimensions
you were begging to be visited
by many different people
eating more experiences
as you sat there with a stare
the curious girl that you are
never really understood
what really happens in the real world, far from the books
you haven't lived for too long
to know that authors just write
to escape the harsh reality

Children, gather round
Your second parent calls
A simple box
Wooden and metal
A face of glass
Adorned with two knobs
Take your seats
And take off your shoes--naughty!
Elbows off the table
Legs crossed, hands clasped
Black and white
Levittown
Like your mary janes and stockings
Your president birthed
And mourned
Mother’s in the kitchen
The window outside your little world
Is black and red but not white
Malcolm X, and all the rest
Standing up for their territory
Little girl, the country’s changing
Pick your daisy
We’re not crazy
The bombs come closer every day
Haven’t you seen Castro
And our fiascos by the bay?
Great Society
Social Security
Aid for the old and poor
Dinner’s ready
Mother’s specialty
Credibility on a plate
Crudely disguised
Plastic, fantastic, and uniform
Yet your mind is so hungry
That you eat it all the same
And give it no thought
The window’s widening
Its light reflected
On that glowing omniscient face
Color! Color!
Bright and vivid
Dancing at your fingertips
Brother’s gone off to Nam
Off with your skirts, your stockings,
Your mary janes,
And that awful ribbon in your hair
Burning dope
The rainbow bathes you
In its splendid glory
The birds in the sky
Like rolling thunder
Hawks tearing at the doves
****** falling to the trees
Agent Orange
Fire, death, destruction
Where’s your meal now?
Johnson stumbled,
Faith has crumbled
And so have the foundations
Of your enclosed walls
Bobby’s groovy--
No--he’s gone
And King’s dream
Escaped with his last breath
White rabbit,
Gentle rabbit
Sing your peace
The country’s ablaze
At home and away
Stand your ground
Chicago, Ohio
Each one’s a battlefield
Time for dessert--
Licking lollipops
LSD
Clear your plates
For a second course

Plant a fertile garden in summer & harvest all of the fruits and vegetables.
PIckle all of the vegetables.
preserve all of the fruits-leave some
Apples for pie.
Place pickles and preserves in the darkness of the root cellar.

Order How to ****** a Farmhand in 10 Days from the book catalogue.
Order the Art of War also just in case

Invite Handsome Jimmy Pike from the neighbouring farm over for pie.

Get Uncle Abe to cover the dirt floor with planks.
As Mama always said a frozen dirt floor is just for the dirt poor.

Bake Pie. Place on windowsill.
Waft the smell
Of hot pie over toward the woodpile where Uncle Abe is chopping wood.

Invite Jimmy to play Gin Rummy the evening when Uncle Abe is mysteriously ill of a stomach complaint and sleeping in the barn.


Show Jimmy Uncle Abe's tongue and groove method of log cabin construction.
Ask Jimmy to show me the **** and pass method of using unmilled logs to **** up against each other without notching.

Spike Jimmy's tea with ***.
Show Jimmy the root cellar.
**** up against Jimmy with notching.
WITH LOTS OF NOTCHING.

Fall pregnant.
Tell Uncle Abe and have a shotgun wedding.
Bake another special pie.

I died for you many times,
blood spilled on more than one occasion.
I could list the times you stole my breath.
With your fingers in my hair, tangled,
I hated my curls.
You called me dearest.
Did you mean it?
You invited me in.
Did she want it?
I was cold. You were warm.
Did you feel it?
In the frost-bitten autumn, lips turning blue
from the cold,
from your kisses,
there was blood on the grass,
shrapnel in your heart.
You worry me.
You don't sleep.
Ink stains your hands like
mud from the battlefield.
It stains your soul,
hides your desires,
murky as the dangerous sea.
Sometimes when you kiss me
it tastes like salt water,
feels like lightning,
gale force winds.
I am not a hurricane.
I could never hurt you.
But I did.
My breath stopped in my lungs,
eyes fixed on yours.
My breath stopped in my lungs,
your hands traveling.
My breath stopped in my lungs,
a bullet in his side.
My breath stopped in my lungs,
the world changed forever.
My breath stopped in my lungs,
you walking away from me, to her.
My breath stopped forever.
You wish my blood would stain your hands,
that you could have been close enough,
that you could have protected the part of yourself that resided in me.
Your breath stopped in your lungs.
I died for you, one final time,
blood spilled on one final occasion.
They stole my breath.
I hated my curls,
but I loved you.

She hangs upon the ladder, looking out on all of her glorious creations,
This sun that beats down upon her, she cringes at the pain of it,
Stinging sweat slides all along the sides of her face of newborn nation
Grand things she has promised, although she would build a monument
To honour the dead who fought valiantly to protect their land,
Their new found supposed right to enslave.
And also don't forget their brave new world of uneducated
******, all-in-the family goodness, "un-needed" liberation of
Innocent blacks. Those unlawful ne'er do wells! She would fight
To keep them all to herself and her bidding, even to the grave!

*While in truth they have not committed any absolute crimes,
Like their ancestors-nor any reason why they are doing hard time.

Sometimes, through no fault of your own, you will end up ******.
You'll get blood on your dress, blood on your shoes
blood in your hair, blood on the walls,
speckled on your lips and clinging to your eyelashes
copper in your mouth, rust under your fingernails
four perfect spatters below you
palms stained, bringing out your handprints
as if to identify that it is indeed you, covered in blood.

So you'll decide to restore yourself
and you'll resolve to wash it all away.
And as you scrub away your shame,
you'll look in the mirror
to see a woman with pursed lips
jewels heavy around her neck
brow dark and furrowed, concentrating
because she, too, is covered in blood.

You will wash your hands with her
and try not to look so pale
because the water is orange and your fingertips are white.
You will turn away from the woman with raw hands
and your palms will smell like lemons
and your eyes will be bright.
Your lips will be crimson.
You'll adjust your necklace as you leave.

It's a historical day
And I am happy.

But without you
It means nothing to me.


F.Z.**N

Hot, salty tears, muddled,
with the bitter, icy spray,
enveloped by the Atlantic,
desposed by pedigree.

Peoples, of all lifetimes,
swiftly, abducted from their blood,
with lament, embraces ripped apart,
sin left disguised, ousted love.

Lumber structures, like cages,
repressing their last breaths,
left few ongoing in the waves,
desposed by traitorous men.

Forceful souls, whose tongue called out,
reshaped their gruesome plight,
to overthrow the tides and toils, who,
ousted them at the site.

Desde África, a Cuba,
y entonces a América,
los abogados se lucharon,
y tomaron un caso de libertad.

Para un barco se llama Amistad,
todos los malhechos son,
la gente Mende querían justicia,
y tomaron parte por el mundo.

we were naïve and young then
kissing while the horses neighed in their pen
cliche as this might sound
they took my joy, ran it aground
everything changed when they took you away
i could never forget that day
nothing would ever be the same
even the horses stopping being tame
we'd never be as happy as we had been
after that day in 1918

one by one they shot you down
could they see my tears or my frown?
but my boy was stronger than the gun
and they knew they weren't done
a rusty blade went through your chest
they dumped the bodies in the west
a new republic has been born
faced to the world just to be scorned
the world would never be as it had been
after that day in 1918

you knew your end was near you said
when the disease left you sick in bed
we never imagined it'd end like that
left your body to the rats
nothing would ever be as it had been
after that day in 1918

Memories of my past continue to haunt me,
In my dreams every night.

Our spirits swore their faith for all ages.

Open gates let into our lives;

Loyalty,
Goodwill,
To Rule Solemnly,
Exalted Ceremonies,

Showing the Correct thing,
Wisdom.
Bright Light and,
Justice for all.

We only need to find the courage to
Walk through just one,
To make our dreams
Come true.


Copyright © Ronald J Chapman All Rights Reserved.