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"baltimore" poems
This is America for Petes sake Black lives don’t matter here They say they’re being treated unfair But they’re the one’s drinking up all the welfare And we even pay for their health care Poor black folk shouting black lives matter But they don’t matter The only thing that matters is the fat cats getting fatter Build a school or a jail? In a place like Baltimore, those black kids are already bound to fail Let’s not forget from whence we hail We came from abroad to build this house This was never meant to be a game of cat and mouse They don’t know their power, so they will never see their hour Cause you see white people are only safe when those animals scared White people are only safe when white people are feared When black people are teared, and on their face is smeared the blood of their ancestors, on the altar that is prepared The altar that was broken down when we ended Jim Crow Since then look how low our country did go But at last at last now again we can make America great Now again we can end any debate , about what it means to be free Cause when Trump is in charge I’ll tell you, you won’t tell me When Trump is President you'll put your hand over your heart for the anthem, not take a knee When Trump is President, You’ll be satisfied , you’ll lower your fist and you’ll be You’ll be gratified, you’ll shut your mouth and watch your people die You’ll watch them bleed like Alton Sterling, You’ll stand there you’ll cry And then you’ll wonder why, why does the color of your skin decide whether or not you win As you kneel before me thinking about your next of kin, ready to feel these bullets in your body as your reality sets in This country was never your own We brought you here as slaves, you call out for a savior but Abraham Lincoln is dead so you can put down the phone Martin Luther King is dead so you can put down the phone Malcom X is dead, you see,now you’re all alone We’ve infiltrated your culture and now that seed has grown As we watch you destroy each other and continue to postpone anything that looks like freedom Cause you see freedom isnt free We gained ours in 1776 Your ancestors were still in chains but here today you celebrate with me Thinking that you’re free But you will never be free Harriet Tubman freed a thousand slaves And she could've freed a thousand more but they were cheering for Trump in his rallies Because they can’t grasp what it means to be free And that mere truth is the key So we won’t say their names We won’t feel their pains Cause this is the United States of America , and white is right, we still hold the reigns
0
Jul 22, 2016
Jul 22, 2016 at 12:13 AM UTC
Views from the other side
This is America for Petes sake Black lives don’t matter here They say they’re being treated unfair But they’re the one’s drinking up all the welfare And we even pay for their health care Poor black folk shouting black lives matter But they don’t matter The only thing that matters is the fat cats getting fatter Build a school or a jail? In a place like Baltimore, those black kids are already bound to fail Let’s not forget from whence we hail We came from abroad to build this house This was never meant to be a game of cat and mouse They don’t know their power, so they will never see their hour Cause you see white people are only safe when those animals scared White people are only safe when white people are feared When black people are teared, and on their face is smeared the blood of their ancestors, on the altar that is prepared The altar that was broken down when we ended Jim Crow Since then look how low our country did go But at last at last now again we can make America great Now again we can end any debate , about what it means to be free Cause when Trump is in charge I’ll tell you, you won’t tell me When Trump is President you'll put your hand over your heart for the anthem, not take a knee When Trump is President, You’ll be satisfied , you’ll lower your fist and you’ll be You’ll be gratified, you’ll shut your mouth and watch your people die You’ll watch them bleed like Alton Sterling, You’ll stand there you’ll cry And then you’ll wonder why, why does the color of your skin decide whether or not you win As you kneel before me thinking about your next of kin, ready to feel these bullets in your body as your reality sets in This country was never your own We brought you here as slaves, you call out for a savior but Abraham Lincoln is dead so you can put down the phone Martin Luther King is dead so you can put down the phone Malcom X is dead, you see,now you’re all alone We’ve infiltrated your culture and now that seed has grown As we watch you destroy each other and continue to postpone anything that looks like freedom Cause you see freedom isnt free We gained ours in 1776 Your ancestors were still in chains but here today you celebrate with me Thinking that you’re free But you will never be free Harriet Tubman freed a thousand slaves And she could've freed a thousand more but they were cheering for Trump in his rallies Because they can’t grasp what it means to be free And that mere truth is the key So we won’t say their names We won’t feel their pains Cause this is the United States of America , and white is right, we still hold the reigns
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50
I had Joe Willie from jump. The Jets were off the chain Baltimore benched Johnny U cause he knew the game. And played it too. The AFL was full of bells and whistles.Speed kills Three yards and a cloud of dust. Get real coach. We shootin rockets to da moon. High tops . Cmon pops. Change the guard. Them people ain't done nothing to me said Ali. Da Nang ain't my thang.  He was the greatest. Still is. The Haight was great.  Oh yeah Kent STATE. 1968. Open the gate to the house of the rising sun. Joplin. And Jimmy. Marvin and Tammy. The Doors and Hair. ****** in the air What rhymes with Agent Orange...... Nothing.
0
Oct 4, 2012
Oct 4, 2012 at 1:16 AM UTC
Age of Aquarius
I'd heard about problems with police hard to hear harder to believe personally I never had a problem oh a few well deserved speeding tickets probably cut a break no definitely I drove very fast especially in the turns roll-the-tires fast in the turns that was me and the more I heard the faster I turned as a young kid I applied and was accepted to six colleges six for six piece of cake why the stress my SAT score equated to an I.Q. of 1 above plant life accepted open arms those WASPs loved me graduate school one for one       best in the country bar none MBA with honors that was easy they called it the golden passport yes passports are even faster I never had problems with band-aids        the bank the insurance company       the healthcare system never turned down       for a credit card car loan life insurance policy       or request for a specialist experience is the best teacher       and the more I learned the less I wanted to know       and the faster I turned then I learned    about certain specifics       certain policies with regard to traffic stops bank loans rental property heath care voting rights marriage read the color purple and then that invaluable government          syphilis experiment that would have been inconceivable        even to doctor mengele that the star spangled banner        has more than one stanza?   really there were four stanzas? MY country ‘tis of ME       and it was making me feel ***** learned that no one       voluntarily held that flag up that hellish night       o’er the ramparts WE watched as slave and freedmen               were ordered       to their near certain death with the threat of absolute       certain death then I watched a cop        shoot a kid in the back               in cold blood near a merry-go-round on a playground in baltimore maryland I liked baltimore fast very fast he emptied the 10 round clip of a semi-automatic 9mm Glock 27 into THAT kid's back no hesitation ****** baltimore baltimore baltimore baltimore I hit the brakes hard       on those fast decades and decades generations generations generations       of turning I slowed down way way way down       stopped took a deep deep deeper breath then did what I always did and do best I turned turned turned I turned around and as I turned I woke to kneel
0
Mar 8, 2019
Mar 8, 2019 at 11:05 AM UTC
As I Turned I Woke
I'd heard about problems with police hard to hear harder to believe personally I never had a problem oh a few well deserved speeding tickets probably cut a break no definitely I drove very fast especially in the turns roll-the-tires fast in the turns that was me and the more I heard the faster I turned as a young kid I applied and was accepted to six colleges six for six piece of cake why the stress my SAT score equated to an I.Q. of 1 above plant life accepted open arms those WASPs loved me graduate school one for one       best in the country bar none MBA with honors that was easy they called it the golden passport yes passports are even faster I never had problems with band-aids        the bank the insurance company       the healthcare system never turned down       for a credit card car loan life insurance policy       or request for a specialist experience is the best teacher       and the more I learned the less I wanted to know       and the faster I turned then I learned    about certain specifics       certain policies with regard to traffic stops bank loans rental property heath care voting rights marriage read the color purple and then that invaluable government          syphilis experiment that would have been inconceivable        even to doctor mengele that the star spangled banner        has more than one stanza?   really there were four stanzas? MY country ‘tis of ME       and it was making me feel ***** learned that no one       voluntarily held that flag up that hellish night       o’er the ramparts WE watched as slave and freedmen               were ordered       to their near certain death with the threat of absolute       certain death then I watched a cop        shoot a kid in the back               in cold blood near a merry-go-round on a playground in baltimore maryland I liked baltimore fast very fast he emptied the 10 round clip of a semi-automatic 9mm Glock 27 into THAT kid's back no hesitation ****** baltimore baltimore baltimore baltimore I hit the brakes hard       on those fast decades and decades generations generations generations       of turning I slowed down way way way down       stopped took a deep deep deeper breath then did what I always did and do best I turned turned turned I turned around and as I turned I woke to kneel
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79
William Zanzinger killed poor Hattie Carroll With a cane that he twirled around his diamond ring finger At a Baltimore hotel society gath'rin' And the cops were called in and his weapon took from him As they rode him in custody down to the station And booked William Zanzinger for first-degree ****** But you who philosophize disgrace and criticize all fears Take the rag away from your face Now ain't the time for your tears William Zanzinger, who at twenty-four years Owns a tobacco farm of six hundred acres With rich wealthy parents who provide and protect him And high office relations in the politics of Maryland Reacted to his deed with a shrug of his shoulders And swear words and sneering, and his tongue it was snarling In a matter of minutes on bail was out walking But you who philosophize disgrace and criticize all fears Take the rag away from your face Now ain't the time for your tears Hattie Carroll was a maid of the kitchen She was fifty-one years old and gave birth to ten children Who carried the dishes and took out the garbage And never sat once at the head of the table And didn't even talk to the people at the table Who just cleaned up all the food from the table And emptied the ashtrays on a whole other level Got killed by a blow, lay slain by a cane That sailed through the air and came down through the room Doomed and determined to destroy all the gentle And she never done nothing to William Zanzinger But you who philosophize disgrace and criticize all fears Take the rag away from your face Now ain't the time for your tears In the courtroom of honor, the judge pounded his gavel To show that all's equal and that the courts are on the level And that the strings in the books ain't pulled and persuaded And that even the nobles get properly handled Once that the cops have chased after and caught 'em And that the ladder of the law has no top and no bottom Stared at the person who killed for no reason Who just happened to be feelin' that way without warnin' And he spoke through his cloak, most deep and distinguished And handed out strongly, for penalty and repentance William Zanzinger with a six-month sentence Oh, but you who philosophize disgrace and criticize all fears Bury the rag deep in your face For now's the time for your tears
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7k
The Lonesome Death of Hattie Carroll
William Zanzinger killed poor Hattie Carroll With a cane that he twirled around his diamond ring finger At a Baltimore hotel society gath'rin' And the cops were called in and his weapon took from him As they rode him in custody down to the station And booked William Zanzinger for first-degree ****** But you who philosophize disgrace and criticize all fears Take the rag away from your face Now ain't the time for your tears William Zanzinger, who at twenty-four years Owns a tobacco farm of six hundred acres With rich wealthy parents who provide and protect him And high office relations in the politics of Maryland Reacted to his deed with a shrug of his shoulders And swear words and sneering, and his tongue it was snarling In a matter of minutes on bail was out walking But you who philosophize disgrace and criticize all fears Take the rag away from your face Now ain't the time for your tears Hattie Carroll was a maid of the kitchen She was fifty-one years old and gave birth to ten children Who carried the dishes and took out the garbage And never sat once at the head of the table And didn't even talk to the people at the table Who just cleaned up all the food from the table And emptied the ashtrays on a whole other level Got killed by a blow, lay slain by a cane That sailed through the air and came down through the room Doomed and determined to destroy all the gentle And she never done nothing to William Zanzinger But you who philosophize disgrace and criticize all fears Take the rag away from your face Now ain't the time for your tears In the courtroom of honor, the judge pounded his gavel To show that all's equal and that the courts are on the level And that the strings in the books ain't pulled and persuaded And that even the nobles get properly handled Once that the cops have chased after and caught 'em And that the ladder of the law has no top and no bottom Stared at the person who killed for no reason Who just happened to be feelin' that way without warnin' And he spoke through his cloak, most deep and distinguished And handed out strongly, for penalty and repentance William Zanzinger with a six-month sentence Oh, but you who philosophize disgrace and criticize all fears Bury the rag deep in your face For now's the time for your tears
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47
365Nectar #46 The High Priestess of Soul Fri. November 8, 2013 10:38 P.M. Deep in the distance dancing upon the horizon a deeply distinctive voice defies definition bending genres to her will clearly breaking boundaries an exiled priestess wails louder than ever silky, soulful, and spicy Pastel Blues Little Girl Blue lettin' it all out with a wild as the wind Sinner man just tryin' to feel good absolutely refusing to be misunderstood a strong-willed priestess turns tempermental tunes into blazing beautiful harmony putting a revolutionary spell on you belting emotional songs of freedom and spirit Peace of Heart Nectar of Truth just in time to do what you do... an exiled priestess wails louder than ever silky, soulful, and spicy Pastel Blues. Born to a preacher handyman and housemaid minister a gospel pop fusion diva emerges from the Glory of Love a strange volatile fruit blossoms into young, gifted, and Black spitting storms of spiritually smoldering Black Gold from a silky soul that scorches the earth an exiled priestess wails louder than ever silky, soulful, and spicy Pastel Blues Masterfully mesmerizing Black rock Blood and Candlesmoke a fiery flow of tangy, tantalizing and titillating under a fog of duality genius bears two heads vibrant and intricate a saucy songstress swings with passion and honesty an empowered diva breaks down and let's it all out just energetic expressive jazz injected with well composed folklore live at Ronnie Scotts an exiled priestess wails louder than ever silky, soulful, and spicy Pastel Blues From Newport to Baltimore an exiled priestess feeds forbidden fruit and hypnotizes the masses with tantalizing love me or leave me alone torch songs a powerful Four Women high on Lilac Wine blush from Broadway Blues Ballads in Baltimore See-line woman goes to hell to save Little Liza Jane and shelters in Barbados Cotton-eyed Joe feeds Brown Baby controversy behind Blue Prelude Did it move you? Yeah... Hell yeah.. it moved me too! Mr. Bojangles wave bye bye to a Blackbird in chilly winds that don't blow while willows weep something seemingly symbolic of soothing to an African mailman in Central Park and an exiled priestess wails louder than ever silky, soulful, and spicy Pastel Blues The High Priestess of Soul caged but still singing shivering sensations from stubborn sweetness under sweet strings that sharply spill and scatter strength to the sorrowful that daily dine and devour silky, soulful, and spicy Pastel Blues.
0
Nov 11, 2013
Nov 11, 2013 at 11:51 AM UTC
The High Priestess of Soul
365Nectar #46 The High Priestess of Soul Fri. November 8, 2013 10:38 P.M. Deep in the distance dancing upon the horizon a deeply distinctive voice defies definition bending genres to her will clearly breaking boundaries an exiled priestess wails louder than ever silky, soulful, and spicy Pastel Blues Little Girl Blue lettin' it all out with a wild as the wind Sinner man just tryin' to feel good absolutely refusing to be misunderstood a strong-willed priestess turns tempermental tunes into blazing beautiful harmony putting a revolutionary spell on you belting emotional songs of freedom and spirit Peace of Heart Nectar of Truth just in time to do what you do... an exiled priestess wails louder than ever silky, soulful, and spicy Pastel Blues. Born to a preacher handyman and housemaid minister a gospel pop fusion diva emerges from the Glory of Love a strange volatile fruit blossoms into young, gifted, and Black spitting storms of spiritually smoldering Black Gold from a silky soul that scorches the earth an exiled priestess wails louder than ever silky, soulful, and spicy Pastel Blues Masterfully mesmerizing Black rock Blood and Candlesmoke a fiery flow of tangy, tantalizing and titillating under a fog of duality genius bears two heads vibrant and intricate a saucy songstress swings with passion and honesty an empowered diva breaks down and let's it all out just energetic expressive jazz injected with well composed folklore live at Ronnie Scotts an exiled priestess wails louder than ever silky, soulful, and spicy Pastel Blues From Newport to Baltimore an exiled priestess feeds forbidden fruit and hypnotizes the masses with tantalizing love me or leave me alone torch songs a powerful Four Women high on Lilac Wine blush from Broadway Blues Ballads in Baltimore See-line woman goes to hell to save Little Liza Jane and shelters in Barbados Cotton-eyed Joe feeds Brown Baby controversy behind Blue Prelude Did it move you? Yeah... Hell yeah.. it moved me too! Mr. Bojangles wave bye bye to a Blackbird in chilly winds that don't blow while willows weep something seemingly symbolic of soothing to an African mailman in Central Park and an exiled priestess wails louder than ever silky, soulful, and spicy Pastel Blues The High Priestess of Soul caged but still singing shivering sensations from stubborn sweetness under sweet strings that sharply spill and scatter strength to the sorrowful that daily dine and devour silky, soulful, and spicy Pastel Blues.
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90
Writing for me is simple.. Lyrically ready to maximize my potential.. I have something to say I don't blow hot air like a inner tube... Tell them liars they need to relax.. I am the type to push it to the max.. Switching gears and lanes until the governor snap .. I cannot be contain.. Like the green hulk fighting the thing I wish you could take a walk through my brain.. You would see different things depending on the time of day... Like dead people, relatives that passed in my memories they live... Times of my youth when I was a kid... I didn't smile much. I was a good kid I didn't wild much... Pops sold crack so I styled much ... Gun shots in Baltimore, my pops  died once... In my mind I question a ****   Like are they always ready to **** Or does life have them Close to the edge.. Of a cliff a jagged hill   And they don't want to die in this dog eat dog world.. So they let blood spill.. I wonder if I was a G would I bang. Red or blue claim a gang.   Be like Larry Hoover... A young shooter... In and out of prison I maneuver Run the block like a ruler... Be part of the the trash like manure Be a coke runner a drug mover.. Corrupting the body of drug users.  .. Would I be known as a survivor Escaping death more than MacGyver Embrace the streets as truth knowing that's it a liar... Nickname my gun human torch cause it fires I wonder cause honestly I don't have a gun This poetry is my weapon.. I am only gangsta through my lyrical aggression Day 1 down...I am up to the challenge. A poem a day ..to test my talent...
0
Jun 1, 2013
Jun 1, 2013 at 4:14 AM UTC
Day 1: No Gangsta
Writing for me is simple.. Lyrically ready to maximize my potential.. I have something to say I don't blow hot air like a inner tube... Tell them liars they need to relax.. I am the type to push it to the max.. Switching gears and lanes until the governor snap .. I cannot be contain.. Like the green hulk fighting the thing I wish you could take a walk through my brain.. You would see different things depending on the time of day... Like dead people, relatives that passed in my memories they live... Times of my youth when I was a kid... I didn't smile much. I was a good kid I didn't wild much... Pops sold crack so I styled much ... Gun shots in Baltimore, my pops  died once... In my mind I question a ****   Like are they always ready to **** Or does life have them Close to the edge.. Of a cliff a jagged hill   And they don't want to die in this dog eat dog world.. So they let blood spill.. I wonder if I was a G would I bang. Red or blue claim a gang.   Be like Larry Hoover... A young shooter... In and out of prison I maneuver Run the block like a ruler... Be part of the the trash like manure Be a coke runner a drug mover.. Corrupting the body of drug users.  .. Would I be known as a survivor Escaping death more than MacGyver Embrace the streets as truth knowing that's it a liar... Nickname my gun human torch cause it fires I wonder cause honestly I don't have a gun This poetry is my weapon.. I am only gangsta through my lyrical aggression Day 1 down...I am up to the challenge. A poem a day ..to test my talent...
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40
White boy afraid of the mirror White boy hates history class White boy wears hood up, always White boy afraid to go outside White boy is all apologies White boy prays for baltimore White boy doesn't talk much White boy thinks he has no right White boy ashamed of who he is White boy sorry for his skin White boy can't explain what he is feeling White boy can't sleep no more
0
Aug 25, 2014
Aug 25, 2014 at 12:37 AM UTC
Skin
She was faster than a rattlesnake She could split a log in two She was better than any hand I think I ever knew She was famous all throughout the west But, it really was a shame She wasn't known for what she did She was famous for her name She could rope and shoot and ride Better 'n any man I know But laugh at this girl's name And she'd hog tie you for show Christened Patricia Bollinger From Baltimore she came She didn't like the term cow girl So, Cow Patty was her name
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Apr 27, 2015
Apr 27, 2015 at 11:57 PM UTC
Cow Patty
The greatest player I've ever seen The heart of Raven nation a Superbowl M.V.P You'll be missed so much when this season does end So Baltimore win it all win it for him.
0
Jan 3, 2013
Jan 3, 2013 at 3:19 AM UTC
The great Ray Lewis
Look at us, I'm carrying a basket made of trash and you're carrying a mouse, well the dog chewed up your glasses but you're still rockin it you have a single drop of coffee on your nose, we're ready to go to D.C. I had another where-are-we moment, it was fun. Good, that's downtown Baltimore right there, ****** capital of the world.   An elaborate mural graffiti. Wall after brick wall. A rustbelt city like Grand Rapids Detroit Cincinnati. Did you sleep well? Yes I woke up feeling like a clam in a cocoon. A sea creature inside of a forest insect, okay. I've wasted too much time on both desire and regret. Yellow bridge. Blue-green supports. Singer on the radio saying, we're young right now. There's a healthy and an unhealthy way of dealing with pain, I'm sorry for my selfish behavior in the islands. I want to go back and leave a better legacy. 'Word.' Last night to come see you I drove I-95 N, the overpass and though the rest of the city was really moving I was all alone up there, it was like driving in the sky. We pass signs saying: Icy Conditions: bridges and ramps freeze first. And a billboard: Learning Kick Flips Takes Work, So Does College We listen to our favorite island song: love the islands, love the islands, oh. You look like a rasta snowboarder girl There's something really right about having you in this car
0
Mar 26, 2013
Mar 26, 2013 at 1:31 PM UTC
Coconut Baltimore
By: Cedric McClester Justice delayed is justice denied A familiar credo rarely applied So the call for it is a rising tide They’re only trying to close the divide It came so quickly in Baltimore Like nothing that they had ever seen before The young prosecutor was so able and sure Though she never tried a case like it before This time a rookie would light the fuse People rejoiced once given the news The laws don’t exist for police to abuse Responsible parties have to pay some dues She laid the facts out chapter and verse Starting with what she said occurred first It began to appear that Freddie was cursed As she laid out the charges it looked even worst Although color only tends to distract If you must keep track as a matter of fact Out of the six cops three were black Which doesn’t suggest that they knew how to act Cops bleed blue whether black or white The uniform’s the same am I wrong or right? Either or they’ll put out your light Then say you resisted and put up a fight People were asking how Freddie died Some rightly suspected from a bumpy ride And now that those facts have been verified It’s more than a theory that will get tried Just as if Freddie was sending a sign His broken neck and a badly cracked spine Wasn’t self-inflicted we got to find Did they really think that we’d lost our minds © Copyright 2015, Cedric McClester.  All rights reserved.
0
May 1, 2015
May 1, 2015 at 8:31 PM UTC
JUSTICE DELAYED IS JUSTICE DENIED
Two magnificent turtles and I’m surprised I can see them from the distance between us. I’m sitting in my car on a Baltimore street close to the cobblestone kingdom. He just exited, I’m waiting patiently. Were both waiting and this is one more step taken on a path we have carved that leads to our future and is created from scratch. Hardly working, and he’s looking to work hard. Although most days I wished he would just stay in bed with me. We’re planning and we are praying that the floor doesn’t fall through. Living this way, living under a rain cloud. Things tend to have a way of working themselves out but it’s hard to guess fate’s direction when you’re standing on shaky ground. The sound of a bell barely awakens the pedestrians. It might not mean anything, but it sure is a pretty sound.
0
Aug 22, 2012
Aug 22, 2012 at 1:37 PM UTC
Two Turtles.
The civil war's not over The sides are re-arranged Those who once were allies Now, they are estranged The uniforms don't matter It's now the colour of their skin That's put the country back To when the trouble did begin Slavery abolished? Have you looked outside your door? Just take some time and ask yourself Just who you're working for The civil war's not over It didn't ever end Just watch your local nightly news and see it's continuing my friend America is burning The flames are getting higher The country's feeding on itself Throw more fuel on the fire Ferguson and Baltimore are the start of the new pyre America is burning Throw more fuel on the fire One percent to ninety nine That's slavery to me It's not just racial segregation There's more than that to see The civil war's not over It's continued rolling on It will stay there in the background It's the country's most successful con Johnny comes marching home again...hurrah, hurrah Johnny comes marching home again...hurrah, hurrah The country will be burning when he comes From a war where no one really won As another town burns, for all the world to see
0
May 1, 2015
May 1, 2015 at 11:17 AM UTC
America is burning
He tied his love to the railroad Tracks and the Fears that were part of A matched set Tied them down good And left them screaming Obscenities The Baltimore and Ohio derailed that day as he Threw away the towel that Read "Hers" while "His" Hung there alone and Uncomplicated Like the black and white Silent movie life he had fabricated He poured a single scotch and Soda and thought of the children He'd never have to have Heard the gospel-flavored whistle of the train And his salvation On the railroad tracks
0
Sep 10, 2013
Sep 10, 2013 at 5:52 PM UTC
Villains
She kissed me not because she wanted to but because she could. We fell in love. Not because we could but because we wanted to. We made mistakes. Not because we wanted to but because we could. We thought we were perfect. Not because we could but because we wanted to. I vomited in the bathroom of a Baltimore 7-11 because sometimes you cannot hold it in much longer. Her hands shook as she held her mirror because sometimes your reflection can only tell you so much. My body shook. Her body stiff. And when the bodies move the hearts stop. She lied some. I drank words. The veins in hands are maps to imagined consciousness. Really, it's just a ******* ***** Music to my ears. Nervousness between blinks. Noise to my brain. She said, "I love you" not because she wanted to but because she could. I said, "I love you, too," not because I could but because I wanted to.
0
Jan 14, 2015
Jan 14, 2015 at 2:30 AM UTC
He Said, She Said
if he is not made of them wholly, branches, he will be soon. they are everywhere, and he steps on them, and they are arms from hell. he wears a child’s football jersey, torn at his size and his sorrow. he reaches into it and pulls out his heart, a red balloon given the what for, inside of which he blows his nose. he returns the heart. a yellow adherent hangs from both nostrils, as two ropes being cut at and then loosed from his brain. the first keeps an arm from heaven; the second he catches and loops twice to put on his neck. one is never out of the woods here, and he knows it, knows here is Baltimore, Ohio. he has watched the people, some of them, leave; their happiness would be better called remission. he is giddy when he comes upon a man wearing only a barrel and he tips it with joy and makes better his headway home. the rolled over branches shriek and wake the man who nakedly bails. the branches up their shrieking. his mother he has no dementia of his time in her womb. why for **** the despondent are given captions like ‘blank look’ he can’t say for in his mama naught but canvassing eyes. she’s what he calls ‘at grocery’, shaking a coffee can she’ll buy because a done melon can’t hold pennies. she often at the neck is saddled with two toddlers but in his projection now there is just one making miracle of not kicking the coffee can into another’s back. any girl that occurs lets him take her with his tongue only as she seems to know he was circumcised and after that much paddled. he starts thinking on dad and dad’s laughing when mother’d say boys be home before dog because that’s how it sounded from seizures and of course rock candy in the summer. the barrel splinters beneath him to be forgotten and his legs go to bleeding stilts. his last things by his face are insufficient; rock candy, barrel, and twin. I talk on the barrel, I don’t need it, not anymore.
0
Jul 1, 2012
Jul 1, 2012 at 1:34 AM UTC
the current state of handwriting in Baltimore, OH
if he is not made of them wholly, branches, he will be soon. they are everywhere, and he steps on them, and they are arms from hell. he wears a child’s football jersey, torn at his size and his sorrow. he reaches into it and pulls out his heart, a red balloon given the what for, inside of which he blows his nose. he returns the heart. a yellow adherent hangs from both nostrils, as two ropes being cut at and then loosed from his brain. the first keeps an arm from heaven; the second he catches and loops twice to put on his neck. one is never out of the woods here, and he knows it, knows here is Baltimore, Ohio. he has watched the people, some of them, leave; their happiness would be better called remission. he is giddy when he comes upon a man wearing only a barrel and he tips it with joy and makes better his headway home. the rolled over branches shriek and wake the man who nakedly bails. the branches up their shrieking. his mother he has no dementia of his time in her womb. why for **** the despondent are given captions like ‘blank look’ he can’t say for in his mama naught but canvassing eyes. she’s what he calls ‘at grocery’, shaking a coffee can she’ll buy because a done melon can’t hold pennies. she often at the neck is saddled with two toddlers but in his projection now there is just one making miracle of not kicking the coffee can into another’s back. any girl that occurs lets him take her with his tongue only as she seems to know he was circumcised and after that much paddled. he starts thinking on dad and dad’s laughing when mother’d say boys be home before dog because that’s how it sounded from seizures and of course rock candy in the summer. the barrel splinters beneath him to be forgotten and his legs go to bleeding stilts. his last things by his face are insufficient; rock candy, barrel, and twin. I talk on the barrel, I don’t need it, not anymore.
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7
there was a little dog he  heard on the news he had won a holiday a mini weekend cruise he packed up his case packed it nice and neat and his favorite thing his little doggie  treat boarded on his ship and sailed away from shore headed to America bound for Baltimore then sailed on again across the sea so blue hawaii was the venue the next one in the que he really liked it there underneath the sun sitting in his deck chair and having lots of fun sailed on yet again  to  canary isle took a look around and stayed there for a awhile then back to his ship heading home once more sailed beneath the sun to his homeland shore
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Feb 19, 2014
Feb 19, 2014 at 1:35 PM UTC
mini cruise dog
My brain is a factory, producing every toxic part of me. ************ until my hand gets lazy, fantasizing about Lexi Belle and being Martin Scorsese. My blood is a vacuum, alone in a crowded room; my white blood cells like to travel to my ***** so I can someday infect designer uterine walls. Locked and loaded, my heart exploded. The tissue and issues attracted crocodiles that swam from the mall, for miles and miles. Store-bought baby, my body isn't ready, to be stripped down to the bone, and sold to teenage radios, that'll broadcast my American moans. Caucasian nightmare: my skin is not fair. Peel enough off with chemicals, until I decide there's no more, and hide the layers in bathroom stalls, located in the bleach of Baltimore.
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Jun 3, 2015
Jun 3, 2015 at 7:30 PM UTC
American Moans
the maryland girls sit with half eaten smiles speak sideways half truths casting lines out into the Chesapeake where men jump at shiny elusive things hook in lip blood in mouth worms writhing on their tongues pulled to shore uncomfortable choking on oxygen pretty eyes eclipsing sun measuring by skeptical scales a good heart for loving strong lungs for screaming her name soft hands to chase her hair from her face hook from mouth worm swimming down throat pulled to feet she kissed me [swallowed it] pressed for just a few seconds [but shes still kissing me to this very day] she whispers to go but i so desperately want to stay fish out of sea she'll agree that i taste nice but through seemingly faked sorrow she'll admit she has lost her appetite knife in chest gutted head to toe tossed back into the frozen mouth of the Chesepeake and i will be swallowed we'll all be and when i come floating down to Baltimore They wont find much of me like the Tomb i will be found empty but since there are no places in heaven for fish i simply will cease to exist maryland girls sit with half eaten smiles waiting to devour dreaming to digest stupid floundering gullible fish.
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Jun 12, 2010
Jun 12, 2010 at 8:57 PM UTC
The Maryland Girls Sit With Half Eaten Smiles
Venting. They never see the hollow me.. deleted twitter, but i want you guys to follow me.. Usually up late, worrying about my luck, wait.. there's a starving child somewhere.. meanwhile i just ate.. ****** *** my phone bills high, And my ex girl is taken... meanwhile a small girl in Nepal still feels her world shakin... Going 80 on the freeway, i just wanna bowl now.. While the folk down in Philly prayed the train would slow down... Bothered by the shade of a new building... while people in Haiti are still building.. still building... while i buy building blocks for my nephew, hes 1. while the people down in Baltimore burning buildings for fun... really? burning building for fun? Whys the CVS big, but the school with no funds? but they say the solution is, taking the guns... they took the guns in Chicago, but left fatherless sons. Eyebrows on fleek but societies bleak. the devil takes a seat in a heavenly street.. now were all cursed, but im watching netflix on my sofa.. Chilling bumping Sosa, living by the park where they ***** my neighbor Rosa.. Gotta remind myself daily...that im blessed to a fault.. because theres stillborn babies, whose heads rest in a vault.. boys in Africa begging for bread, while i toast my ***** on the beach enjoying summer the waters too cold to swim though.. while in New Orleans they had to jump in regardless.. but all my worry is, if my sister can pass her BAR test.. So next time i wanna vent under my AC vent... i stop and think, **** i dont even have to pay rent.. I dont gotta work doubleshifts and im never hungry.. plus a got a couple people who really love me.. So.. Next time that i wanna complain.. Ill scale my struggle on a real measure of pain. -afj
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May 19, 2015
May 19, 2015 at 5:32 AM UTC
venting part 1.
Venting. They never see the hollow me.. deleted twitter, but i want you guys to follow me.. Usually up late, worrying about my luck, wait.. there's a starving child somewhere.. meanwhile i just ate.. ****** *** my phone bills high, And my ex girl is taken... meanwhile a small girl in Nepal still feels her world shakin... Going 80 on the freeway, i just wanna bowl now.. While the folk down in Philly prayed the train would slow down... Bothered by the shade of a new building... while people in Haiti are still building.. still building... while i buy building blocks for my nephew, hes 1. while the people down in Baltimore burning buildings for fun... really? burning building for fun? Whys the CVS big, but the school with no funds? but they say the solution is, taking the guns... they took the guns in Chicago, but left fatherless sons. Eyebrows on fleek but societies bleak. the devil takes a seat in a heavenly street.. now were all cursed, but im watching netflix on my sofa.. Chilling bumping Sosa, living by the park where they ***** my neighbor Rosa.. Gotta remind myself daily...that im blessed to a fault.. because theres stillborn babies, whose heads rest in a vault.. boys in Africa begging for bread, while i toast my ***** on the beach enjoying summer the waters too cold to swim though.. while in New Orleans they had to jump in regardless.. but all my worry is, if my sister can pass her BAR test.. So next time i wanna vent under my AC vent... i stop and think, **** i dont even have to pay rent.. I dont gotta work doubleshifts and im never hungry.. plus a got a couple people who really love me.. So.. Next time that i wanna complain.. Ill scale my struggle on a real measure of pain. -afj
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39
Isn't about the hatred of another person Isn't about screaming opinions at the top of your lungs Isn't about attacking others Social Justice Is about standing in the middle of a crowded room and shouting what's right as they shout what's wrong Words flowing Blood pumping Screaming about Baltimore and Ferguson White people crying wolf while blacks cry fear Social Justice Is the construct that is refused because it's right And we know it's right But refuse to believe it in all of its glory
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May 4, 2015
May 4, 2015 at 3:14 PM UTC
Social Justice
I think of you, friend, as I make my way to Baltimore, awake and aware of the stillness in the backseat. Used to be at least three of us, sleepless and ****** never alone except when we slept. I think of you when the sunlight finally hits my windshield and refracts into rainbows all over the dashboard. I've always hated mornings, but this one is calm and beautiful and I can't wait to reach the shore. I think of you once more while I'm sitting on the docks tossing rocks into the Patapsco, watching the gulls go sleepily overhead. I dread the drive back home. But I'll be thinking of you when I hit the highway laughing at something you said when you were alive.
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Jun 30, 2017
Jun 30, 2017 at 6:57 PM UTC
Driving into Baltimore Alone