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What is freedom, to breathe, to talk, and to travel?
Oh how we took for granted those past years:

What is freedom summer, here in America?
Where we can still purchase a bottle of cold coke cola for a dollar
But wouldn’t be able to sit on the stoop with friends
Just sipping, and chatting away.

Thinking of a time in history when

Freedom summer was a nonviolent effort by
civil rights activists to
integrate Mississippi's segregated
political, system during 1964.


A poet who knows her history is exceptional
Poets words can sometimes comes off as gossip column

What is freedom?

In 2020 without the interference of
Other countries, city or states…. or the faces of
heart breaking stories of missing persons….
Who took a stroll or jog through the wrong street
And end up in the news while they were
trespassing in Karen’s neighborhood

What is freedom:  not to be cage,
Not to be muffled and not to be Taser by the police:
What is freedom summer of 2020 in New York City.


Limited!
Complicated!
Freedom always come with a price
Anissa Aguila Apr 18
Every day, at 3 o’ clock, on the dot, I check the mail.
I walk around the corner of the street in bare feet,
And I feel the sidewalk heat seep into my body,
Up my legs,
Making the skin tingle for the rest of the day.
The other day, a car turned around and followed me.
I thought,
What will it be today,
Kidnapped or catcalled?
I got to the mailbox and he pulled up next to me, window down, head out.
Oh, he said, just checking the mail.
Yes, I said.
Just wanted to make sure you were okay, walking away with no shoes, you seemed to be in trouble.
No trouble, I said, just mail. Im okay. Thank you.
He pulled away.
Parked at the house next to mine.
New neighbor.
Are you okay?
Do you feel this numbness as well?
Do you also wake up dizzy and strange?
Somedays,
I eat until I feel something.
Others,
I don’t until all I feel is hunger.
Your driveway is overflowing, neighbor.
Do you feel alone?
Do the dogs keep you up at night?
Does the news?
I’m sorry about the noise, neighbor.
I sing until my throat is sore, and then keep going.
I’m okay, neighbor.
I’m just checking the mail.
There’s nothing today,
But maybe tomorrow.
Carlo C Gomez Feb 15
Oil
Exhaust
Handstand theatre
In the back of a van
Underground avenue
Has the scent of
Stale black licorice
Melted into the sidewalk
The familiar odor of traffic
Is a pedestrian substitute
For the Old World charm
This renovated place
Paved over
Long
Ago
Carlo C Gomez Dec 2019
Racism is not a gated community
It lives in every neighborhood
Jonathan Moya Dec 2019
Mr. Rogers grace exists
in miniature cities of kindness,

the tranquil tones of forgiveness,
level to the eye of a single frighten child.

For him, and in that moment,
that child is the  most precious
thing in the world.

He blesses them with positive ways
of dealing with their feelings;

the benediction of accepting them
for exactly who they are;

even when everything doesn’t
go exactly the way they hoped,

shows them how to smooth the
dissonance into a beautiful inner music;

store up the blessings
of an ordinary day;

love the ratty, special toy,
even as it grows old;

to know with absolute firmness,
as parents, that anything

mentionable is manageable
and to be human-

and that’s ok.
hannah Aug 2019
Step one
Make a friend
Get over your irrational fear
Of all other humans

Step two
Overshare
Tell them your life story
On the second day
Hope that they won't leave you

Step three
Worry
Every time you aren't there
You're probably being replaced
Your friend seems to like you
But everyone does at first

Step four
Beat yourself up
If you've been replaced
Then good for them
You were never good enough anyways
They have every right
To leave you behind

Step five
Push away
They don't need you
So they probably don't want you
They're only still here
Because they pity you
Or they don't know how to dump you
Do it for them

Step six
Wallow
You don't have anyone anymore
And you never will
Because you are never enough
For anyone
You did a good thing by leaving them
No one wanted you there
In the first place

Step seven
Placate
You lost your friends
But that's okay
You don't need friends anyways
And they certainly
Don't need you
You're just fine all by yourself
You're happier being alone
Right?

Step eight
Make a friend
Ger over your irrational fear
Of all other humans
Gotta love that endless cycle.
Heavy Hearted Aug 2019
I've been blessed to know a few
who understand my pain and triumph too
N we'll know each other all our lives
as I'm all finished alone looking for knives.

Distance we make into a friend as still days alone I’ll dwell
Yet keep always the hope that their
future’s brightness is to sell.

While mine I auction off with ease-
Doomed;
addictions appetite is never pleased.

So quite different I am from both of them, as our unlikely trios formed
by want and need and struggle too while beauty and youth is mourned



A blessing for us to know this type, of friendship near or far

to know alone is not alone no matter where we are.

Kimia and Sammy, it's your two thoughts that I keep close

As the future that I contrived grows impatiently morose
For kimia and sammy- who have always silently made a stand with and for me. We're such different types of people yet I know we're connected for life. We're all pretty much on the same street, as we have been,  from childhood till now. This is the last month before you both move away for grad school, but I'll be here. I am so proud to watch you both go. Thank you for being yourselves.
Megan Hammer Aug 2019
Carefree kids on bikes, zigzagging their way to Gross Burgers
Their mothers are hookers, methheads, and nurses
Their dads are nowhere to be found.

But they still laugh, pass around a Coca-Cola
Turn up the Kanye and anger the neighbors
Who wear beards and drive trucks with one hand on the wheel

Carefree kids on bikes, eating push-up pops from Mike’s liquor store
They all smell like green sour patch kids - sour, sweet - almost gone.
Until they smell her lilacs beckoning them home, singing their names from a purple stem

She’s our lifeline, pumping blood through us and into our hearts
Carefree kids on bikes, we’ve only got that old lady on the porch
Carefree kids on bikes, who all the moms get rid of,
Ride to the lilacs, where she quietly gives up her last Coke for one of them

And loves them all,
Without caring where they come from.
Hammond Colson Jun 2019
They’re all the same.
They’re all the same.
Sterile cubes to the horizon; snowy stains
Crew cut lawns of
Neon ball-field grass
Blacktop floors, silver chariots past
Barbed wire cages of pristine wood sides
Maples spaced mechanically
Mother Nature cyanide
Hospital sheeting, board room meeting
Hollow caskets of dead visions
Creative color fleeting.

They’re all the same.
They’re all the same.
Optic nerve trickery; I must be insane
So far the truthful eyes can see
Flawless cookie cutter plastic sheen
Synthetic golden palace gleam
Manicured daisies spaced between
Another and another; cloned dollhouse genes
Another and another; recurring cul-de-sac dreams
Criss-crossed patterns; golf course greens
Castles of pastel kings and queens.
Thanks! Any feedback appreciated
barking dogs did so
disturb our neighborhood
they just kept on barking
which wasn't very good

because they could bark
they barked as much as they could
they cared not that they were
disturbing our quiet neighborhood
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