#flint
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In a lego world, anything is lego possible,
even hair on lego heads blowing off, and
being mistaken for an acorn cap,
then I think of dolls with acorn heads and
smile, at the multiplicity of ways to imagine
models of reality where whatiferies are tried,
judgment day in the old village of the ancestors,
eh, right, who we danced for, when we was kids.
We learned the way, not the why, time is too tight.
So we rebelled
at the fascist way, busted loose, ax me
do we worry, non
sensed
not since I can't remember when…
fret not, said the child who believed, because
he was told, God's got everything under control.
Jesus winked, and said winds do as they please,
within the atmosphere we breathe and be in.
Winds free wills fix artistry as trying art, umph
at tension, wills filled with mistaken angst, un let
go. Loosen wills to flow down hill, imagine canals
that drained the marshlands all fill up in disuse,
and the world's slow cycle of balance originally
intended when mankind became science wise,
appears to
hold the pattern, see the design,
find a pattern,
say truth showed you,
so the old man say go see,
rethink realization in your imagination, pattern
re-co-knowing mindform made on recognition,
all dressed up. No place to go.
Aug 8, 2024
Aug 8, 2024 at 2:31 PM UTC
Feeling sparks fly
In the dark tunnel waiting to let you out
It's happened once
And I've been waiting for it to happen again ever since
Let me finish the walk out of this tunnel
Give me one more spark
It's gone
They're gone
Let me see sparks fly once more
To get out of the ever so lonely hallway
Finding what I believe to be flint
And proving that instead it's charcoal
Crumbling away under my fingers
As I try to keep it together
Jun 1, 2022
Jun 1, 2022 at 4:45 PM UTC
Sipping on that juice
You are tripping
Screaming and laughing all at once
I'm flying getting my game on
Mystifying you be wearing your *** kicking boots
Smoking one, putting that roach in a jar
Popping vicodin just to stay alive
Not even sure if I exist
Selling Adderall's so the ******* can stay skinny
Sweet little boy shot down on his big wheel bike
All I can do is grab the mic and send the message on
People on the street begging for money for addictions
******* **** just to get high
What if that was your daughter?
Hoping the soup kitchen is open
Do they have a empty bed for me to sleep tonight
Dressing in color
It's a true story this town is in demise
The water is not even safe to drink
Lake Huron to the Flint river
The town showing no love
Then Rick Snyder declares a state of emergency
The first person to come forward Sasha Bell
Was found murdered in her home as her small one year old son was left to roam
She had a law suit against the Flint water crisis
She is now silenced a baby without a mother
Nobody is winning here
90 people were sickened from exposer 12 died
Delivering bottle water to Veteran's, as they are losing there homes
People who have worked there whole lives
People just trying to survive
Oct 3, 2020
Oct 3, 2020 at 1:28 AM UTC
There is just so much
That I should outright say
Yet... Unfortunately
That would be a real
Frighting, uncomfortable page...
I mean
"Wow"!!
Sometimes my mind
Losses doubt
All my past ghost
Start screaming out
Faces I forgotten
Memories obscured
Yesterdays messes
From a city I once severed
So if I happen
To slip and say such words
Let it be known
My heart can no longer endure
.....
Jan 14, 2019
Jan 14, 2019 at 2:02 PM UTC
Frigid boy.
She sees him, hiding behind sarcasm and wit.
He is flint.
She is warmer than sun in late July.
She is a spark.
They meet and ignite.
Vivid technicolor feelings dance in between.
He is entranced by her charm, her saccharine grace.
Warm honey.
Still uneasy, unsure, with few facts and little certainty.
This is not normal operations.
But he is bewitched.
And this girl, she is not to be tamed.
Baffling beauty.
Her instability makes him nervous, he likes control.
He’s frightened.
But she is persistent.
She has the remedy to his wounds.
She is the catalyst.
With that in mind, he reaches out.
He holds her hand.
Apr 19, 2018
Apr 19, 2018 at 6:11 PM UTC
How easy it is to forget.
When it doesn’t affect you.
When the ones lost, weren’t your loved ones.
How easy it is to forget when it wasn’t your child on the receiving end.
When it wasn’t your daughter shrieking for help as some man had his way with her.
Indirectly telling her, her body only exists his pleasure.
How easy it is to forget when it wasn’t you that missed the call that may have allowed you to talk your son down from that ledge.
How easy it is to forget when your mother makes it home, and you didn’t even think to worry.
How easy it is to forget, when your father won’t get mistaken for an immigrant.
It’s easier to forget the horror when your family isn’t the one being torn apart.
You see how easy it is to forget, when it’s not their sisters and brothers being left for dead.
You see how easy it is to forget, when the bodies don’t look like you.
Oct 17, 2017
Oct 17, 2017 at 6:59 PM UTC
The hanging star
falls to the west,
the heavens and earth
become one
and cue our travels.
Hazy smears of pink and orange
spilt the horizon
from the approaching darkness.
The road melts into shadows.
The celestial bodies awaken.
The sky goes black.
The past is put further
and further behind us
and can be seen in the
mirrors that watch our back.
We simply aviate between
two collided worlds.
Our eyes can only pick up
the yellow lights
rushing by port side
and red lights
that we pursue.
Vehicles of other travelers
searching for rest.
In the distance the lights
of a small city
are speckled
strategically in the black.
They tell us
where the earth ends
and the sky begins.
White and yellow lines
draw our course.
We fly through the black.
Faster now.
The illuminated city peeks
in and out
of flint covered silhouettes.
It comes closer
with every intercepted minute.
Our compass points north
and we chase the arrow
until we find our final stop.
Jul 1, 2014
Jul 1, 2014 at 2:58 PM UTC
It's hard to think-
this time last week-
I was searching for weeds-
in the cracks of the street-
in front of the church-
Where I once worked-
In the sun, hardwork-
Pulled weeds all day till my hands hurt-
I was working at the shelter when he found me-
said son you need to leave-
move out, get out of this town-
because you ain't happy, and you sure as hell ain't proud.
Back to flint-
crime hole of Michigan-
where I once lived-
when I was a kid-
where the buildings look like ****
and the streets smell like ****
It's been six years since I left for Maine-
I've searched flint up and down for a familiar face-
the only thing familiar was the old cafe-
we spent summers here, breakfast everyday.
Lady at the counter asked "sweetie what's your name"-
She was cleaning the tables while I had my tea-
She said they don't pay her enough for this ****
I said "you still make more than me"
She recognized my face-
I asked her if She remembered any of my friends-
We used to come here everyday-
After school. For burgers and shakes-
I explained, I never kept in touch-
I'm not the type to, And even if I did-
they wouldn't hear from me that much-
I told her what had happened. How I lost my house in flames. I have no where to stay, not my parents, and I don't have any friends.
She said she remembered you. She remembered how we were always
together.
Asked if you still lived in town-
She said yeah-
she sees you sometimes, hanging around.
She set a glass down-
Poured some tea-
Shared a cup with me-
She said I don't want to be involved with you-
Asked her what she means.
Welcome home. She said.
She winked. Again.
Napkin and a pen.
Gave me an address.
Out past the green light,
Past The fairgrounds.
I drive out and around.
And found my self nearly out of gas.
Every light stayed green as I would pass.
There was never any traffic in this town. Or at least none that would last.
Drive past old miss myrtles.
Her house was covered in vines.
She used to leave her window open,
Set there fresh baked pies.
I wonder of she's alive.
I found your house.
Boarded up.
Two men came out.
Undone zippers and button ups.
One laughed and smirked, pretty girl.
Worth every dime.
The veins in my neck popped and i clenched my fists at my side.
You walked out side.
You stood there, so beaten.
It's clear that you've eaten,
Some fists in your life.
You walked back in side.
It's too late to hide,
The black bruises, your eyes.
Don't try and disguise it's too late for make up and lies.
Drugs and money on the table.
Your life's a pond that stands still.
One drop or touch,
And you shake and waver, the flavor is enough.
Holes in the roof.
Teeth on the ground.
Trash and needles,
Radio blaring loud.
Outside traffic.
Busted lips, white noise.
In a crib, a witnessing
little boy.
Thought of you more and more.
Saw a sign, you were what I came home for.
Not your arm full of scars,
Or face full of sores.
All my friends have left and gone.
Numbers lost.
Seems like this whole town is dead.
Every street lights stuck on red.
May 25, 2014
May 25, 2014 at 4:23 AM UTC