"Poetry Street On The Road" The Film



around here you hear loud sounds on the TV wild-eyed gunshot kick back on the couch and smoke your pot bloodshot eyes on your iPod pilot pill sits next to you Billings your girlfriend left you in the parking lot it's an illusionary world every time that Flags on the firm you're worried about Iran or some kind of stand all Riley's ranting about conspiracy nuts and other stuff you think you're reading you analyze find out the so-called expert there's a bunch of dumb you can't afford a doctor go to the airport right there art security get a full report free x-ray breast exam a whole panoply mention al-qaeda or Isis and get a colonoscopy when the money stops flowing to the man on the street the blood stops he's low in the past the tip soap your feet you become so comfortably numb wake up listen to the tune of the First Nation people of Saskatoon it's so simple man there's no magic wand do what they do in Saskatchewan go the way of Earth keep the healthy thirst for the truth the truth is just trying to survive in the back roads of America who is that woman dressed in black suspended on a swing not Evelyn Nesbit that Gibson girl no it's pink a hundred years and society still loves the kitchen sink not daguerreotype now but selfies as for me I have slimmed myself against a foe Rosewall screaming silently help me please please help me understand why the unrest are so feeing there in living cells with a waxed thus permanently depilated devon versions of celebrities undead selves and what up Kim of JLo a lady Gaga and one of this gaggle of girls wheeling take me no me no me next then pressing sin to what end do they press their flesh against the unfledged the glassy eyed the stunningly stunted they're all so small and who chose those clothes if you can call them clothes aren't hot pants really underwear did Taylor send her very own pair and what are the black boxes look just like the white ones didn't Denzel say go to hell or in stillness are we all awake but no way does MLK look like Al Roker a fumble in the wax room of Bank facial switch a farce of racial yes epic like proportions who decided not me Fidel should stand next to Mandela in this hem faced political arena and what Indians Sitting Bull this is my country a sham and yes disgrace I see Trump's cordoned off so he won't be two-faced outside strange people dressed as furry creatures barage me on 42nd Street isn't that Elmo smoking and texting you're right it's probably a tweet oh no there's three Elmo's and two poos and who is that and for that matter Who am I how do you spell authenticity these flim flam's the waxed the bird the faux have gotten under my skin I start to spin out no up I am a red balloon flying jiving fast or top the city of facades tall buildings flashed by as I rise above it's crazy Jim oh yes I'll take the sky traditionally elephants are majestic creatures beautiful long trunks and soft brown eyes memories to last a lifetime and hearts as biggest trees then there's my elephant my elephant is 2 feet tall he has beautiful brown eyes that could see your soul his memory only lasts a few hours and he runs into walls my elephant plays with cars and his wife is infectious he has a smile to brighten anyone's day and loves headaches normal elephants can't jump mine jumps off everything elephant hearts are 27 246 pounds mine weighs 22 pounds soul like cats elephants / my girls when people touch his food my ailment has a cute smile and a funny personality he loves to play in left he never stops moving my elephant is the light of my life my good he's my good luck charm he is my morning noon and night he's my gray hairs and my headaches my stress and my bliss but honestly I wouldn't want it any other way as the pages of a book turn of their own volition in my mind full of wonder a life moves forward whether or not you are ingrained in it my dog luck tore apart the book borrowed the world according to GARP as the pages of a book turn of their own volition in my mind full of wonder a leg goes forward whether or not you are ingrained in it luck or Restless I took him outside and sung to him to all the birds and the trees outside they seemed so satisfied in that moment I could see myself as the age as an animal at the pages of a box heard of their own volition in my mind full of wonder my mind full of wonder I pondered my they to recover or to perpetually live without reality though I was not aware at the time grasping admissions of sanity and a mind scattered that full of passion full of unconditional love the pages of a book turn of their own volition in my mind full of wonder a life moves forward whether or not you are ingrained in it as they played with my love and some to myself anyone could see my innocence in the world according to GARP we are all terminal cases in my world at times it is difficult to discern what is real in September when hurricanes blew the sea white my brother and I walked along the beach in Brighton after the gulls had settled in the gliding calm and the barnacled rocks of the breakwater emerged black and polished from the foam we crawled upon our hands and knees and carved into the water thickened sand bodies of giants centuries before us in the hills above effington an ancient race heard the same call carved into the chalk cliffs a sign for those to come haven't you seen the horse on the mountain grazing eternally on the thin grasses and felt with your own hands the slender bodies of the gods I do not apologize to you I do not apologize to you I do not apologize to you nothing I could say could wipe away your indignation at my being me what you see is not what you see what you want me to be if my eyes were Brown instead of blue it would not satisfy you want me down and I up up designed to overflow this cup of life regardless of how many knows you hand me with supposed affection focused on control I have another role not daughter friend or wife not slave of ambition I have another mission to move to dance to grow as tall as redwoods if I choose despite your bullying childhood taunts the labels that haunt the porous nature of my past and future the wild child you call resenting the guts I have to navigate existence without resistance it's your insistence I drum from my mind unwind the tapes of no no no refuse to who's into the mold of old old old I'm finishing you're diminishing dismissing you're idealizing your list of perfect features that sabotages God's perfect creatures the message is the message it's a mess about age you clutter up my stage I'm lighting out the page and covering it with rant don't tell me I can't transcend the ravages of growing old with the power of my rage your messages of know of stop and end must go I do not internalize for I will be recognized I do not apologize I do not apologize I do not apologize to that piano entered our life and now love songs from five decades have sprawled across our mantle there was a hard birth pushing 800 pounds scraping our knees losing a wheel splinting splintering mahogany vines a slap and a cry weber is upright and alive one century plus some now it feeds us blues and jazz and southern ballads turns around a sour mood post bill blues makes lukewarm moments sizzle anxious to come empty to full house to home clapping and encores play for me next one's yours this corner of our room is a smoke-filled New Orleans speakeasy and feet are stump and that piano is some hot sake on a rainy Sunday chilled pomegranates at the beach legs scraped we flag on it takes us just where we need to go they are scattered nailed into the floorboards a history of horizontal breaths cheek to grain lungs shudder air the way they touch me rigid and with an incapable chill makes me shiver out a sigh between the slats the cracks slip lambent lights royal blue in the glow the dust motes gush aimlessly at my breath then slow swirl my jaw it grinds against the splinters one moat shouts I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired another gives chase to an absent mother into tight ropes some braids my hair till the strands bow low and break the tension they seem to be having fun at least and when gum stuck knots stopped the comb I'll shear them off like I've done in the past the rest of them swarm a face full of fruit flies bouncing on my cheek leaving their own memories in my pockmarked husk I'll realize something in the morning is missing fashion me pretty for I am but a man circling twirling around for I am man embodiments of just and jest I swear this is not a hex proceed beware be aware fashion me pretty think me wonderful by but know this I am man I am woman think me absurd yes think all you want fashion me pretty not in jest fashion me pretty because you're aware gratitude to Apollo who just moved the poetry street I asked you to sell your boat on this lake of words with me stop thinking about the land for a while it is nearby within sight so cast off and drift for a moment or two with me and when drifting no longer satisfies raise and reef assail just a little way up the mast catch the breeze you love so much at dawn and let it pull you forward into yourself all those secrets that rush along is ripples on that silken silvery surface are now features of a larger scene raise the sail high and the wind will pick up and carry you a bit faster into your expanded vision of where you are right now and suddenly you see the mountains along the shore and you hear the birds cry overhead and parallel joy with your single wing now unfurled and when the moment is right as right as that instant of water and wind let the words out as a gentle swell and when they are done read them out that we may all be one on this journey with you as friends once again by the lake where we swam as children in the hot July Sun that was beaming a benediction of light in the morning air gunshots explode the base of a skull in the bottom of a pit for the good of the party for the fatherland for God for the armies of butchers excising the offal of foreign eyes with ancient cleavers through the generations weaned on betrayal and the bones long buried underneath a forest of pines where mercy flowed like blood from a stone we met young in church we called each other beautiful you came to my school I loved you you dropped out moved to China but then you came out and came home you told me what it was like the first time you were with a man I hoped you do your makeup but you didn't need it you were still beautiful you cried because you were so happy I cried too you were so happy we stole your father's gin and fell asleep on your Buddha quilt with your arms around me you told me I was still beautiful for a girl now presenting a tiny vision of my privilege it began early a couple of months after I received my driver's license just below the rise on Glen Ridge Road in Glenville New York when the lights of the state troopers car flashed behind me and I was asked license and registration please and it continued through the years a late night accident shearing one phone pole at the base and snapping another just south of the Y intersection from Shaba Road into Ashdown Road five minutes from the house and the troopers briefed it briefly contemplated the filing of a misdemeanor reckless driving charge a traffic stop in college where by generosity alone I was told to pull the car into the lot and pick it up in the morning a late night traffic stop on the New York State Thruway making an infamous ill-advised run from Schenectady to Oswego a rollover accident into a farm field in east of Mattituck on the North Road they're growing hops now there which I find ironic a speeding ticket on Sunrise Highway near Hampton Bays where the trooper told me it is too damned icy to be driving that fast man a traffic stop here in town in my failing maroon Isuzu Trooper because one of my taillights was out another one we were watching a herd of deer on Peconic Bay Boulevard in James port and finally riding north on our annual Christmas sojourn in Hamilton Ontario Canada on Interstate 81 in Binghamton where the speed limit reduces from 65 to 55 but the red car behind is pushing pushing pushing to get around and the jalopy in the first lane so I accelerate 60 65 70 73 to pass the jalopy just in time to fall prey to the most productive highest revenue-generating speed trap in the whole of the great state of New York Merry Christmas Kramer's excelsior yes you are correct I need to SL o W the hell down and I probably could use a drivers safety course or 40 and I've been working on that but the larger point here is one of luck demonstrable by the sheer volume of my interactions down the years with law enforcement on the highways byways roads and streets of our country it is not the mythical farcical luck of the Irish it is the luck of the DNA draw the luck of being born with white skin because friends were it not for my white skin any one of those interactions might have could have terribly horribly gone awfully wrong bang bang bang bang bang bang bang looking back and knowing where he's come from and all the the torture the hangings even the many mysterious killers of some makes me wonder out I'm even alive saying in here today I would not be quiet nor would I ever forget the sacrifice my ancestors made not that long ago when they were captured chained shucker together in this far away across the ocean in a stockade even if they try to solace me by cutting off my tongue in ears my eyes were always tell the stories of their precious fears our stories our fears fear a bitch took town naked tied while single lashes but thrust in front of ears while questioning questioning the existence of God ever been there make it a spray that God was here and wishing to sow lies in was near slavery is one of the many scars of history doused in blood and tears which evokes painful memories with significance too important not to hear fire burns high rapidly loudly when generously kindled with seasoned temper of hate no one escaped unscathed there was no place to run there was no place to hide there was no place sacred and no place safe remember with wild eyes filled with fester and hatred coming from all directions close together did they banned by the blazing dirt with babies in their arms and young is held tightly by the hand screaming and yelling nigger as they dragged me by my feet delivery my reckoning while still I weep and as she was forced to spread her young trailing legs and as we cried pleaded and begged as we bled my beautiful brothers and sisters we are the proud to sentence of those who retreated worse than barren dirt whose fathers and mothers were beaten bought sold and traded there are no words that could describe the magnitude of our hurt everything about us they told us was hated slave owners didn't care about separated in Africa man from his family they were only concerned with their own satisfaction status well to them we were all just a commodity they didn't give a damn how we felt slavery owned by another in these United States of land of the free America I would not be quiet hold my peace or get over it I take our nation's whore past present and future very personally my great-grandfather's father Peter was born enslaved with the value of five hundred thirty-eight dollars he was appraised listed Negro boy on the inventory sheet of slave owner Allen T Overby recently deceased they bequeathed this property to another slave owner ashamed by not mentioning his name to whom he was released at the very early age of seven Peter was separated from his family peered from the loving arms of his weeping mother Jenny snatched Church soaking wet with tears of his brothers Frank age four and two your Joe did Peter ever see his family again it hurts to say I still don't know slavery poison aerelon passed down from one generation to the next generation beginning at birth living an entire life with very little or no hope at all the site there are no words that can adequately describe and no words to excuse our hurt no matter what they say about it slavery it just wasn't right even after slavery they raped our precious little girls home got boys without consequences took whatever they wanted and destroyed our businesses burn crosses bombed our churches arrested our ministers and leaders to them we weren't really human we were only niggas now here we are in the 21st century are things really much better look the entire judiciary system has gone completely insane which only makes me realize that although some things have changed there are still just too many things that have remained the same and again today we are in immeasurable pain while these evil unjust people and the highest office remain sure we can always hope for a better future as no one knows what tomorrow will hold but I won't fool myself into thinking that at the generations of hatred there break their racist mode but for how long who have to live and fight those who think they're better than us because their skin is white will it ever end or must we all die before God pays attention to our desperate cry I hate the thought of being shot down because of the color of my skin but I will always remember no unfortunately I am constantly reminded when I walked out the door that's the cruel reality all black men are in America there is still time to start the healing from the scars of history but by first telling the truth the truth the reality this nation was formed founded and is still being governed with ideology embedded in racism sexism and other cruel and inhumane atrocities Native America genocide and slavery are just two of the deep scars in American history America please learn from these mistakes and never lose sight before it's too late understand any action feud with hate white supremacy ideology fear homophobia sexism or racism just isn't right America will you please learn and not to lose sight separating children from their parents and family members at the borders treating real people's precious lives hopes and dreams forever better life in humanely just isn't right America will you please learn and not to lose sight killing are black men women and children making policies laws and the greatest systems designed to put and keep black people and people of color down in poverty depression and imprison just isn't right if this America is truly the land of the free then Liberty justice and equality must be inclusive including people who look like you and me my friends we must continue to march protest and speak out my friends we must vote a dream of heaven I had this dream about heaven and a couple of you were up there it's all decked out in your celestial robes golden slippers we all had a path you see I was a new arrival just came through the gate told st. Peter I want to see the father he said bubbie you got to weak totally in awe but patient I did as I was told sat down on this comfortable diamond right next to the street of gold somebody else I recognized jump straight up off that chair then got to be some kind of mistake how did he get up in here last time that I saw that child he was rifling garbage cans picking up bottles beside the road with his nasty filthy hands I would have mercy there's another one how in the world did she get through sister used to keep all his feets hot especially the circle and Peconic Avenue I started feeling kind of uneasy that nothing not feeling quite so well had I been sent to the wrong place widow's the gate to hell then some sense came to my head to slippers the golden street the cherubim and Seraphim and I couldn't feel no heat all of a sudden it hit me like a ton of bricks I had been so spiritually cold all I could see was outside of them I couldn't see their souls you see to get your name in the Lamb's Book of Life there are some things that God required and to fall short is to spend eternity in the devil's lake the fire just then I spied st. Peter walking back this face had this sad sad frown then I really got uneasy would I be denied my golden crown I started thinking up excuses for some of the wrongs that I had done then try to get st. Peter to intercede for me when I went before the holy one just to st. Peter was about to announce my fate I woke up in my bed crazy frightening confusing thoughts just racing through my head why was he wearing that said said Brown had I really fallen short what I had been denied my golden crown had I lost my Heavenly day in court now every day I pray my soul is pure enough when it comes time to redeem because the next time I see Saint Peter just may not be a dream planting annuals for years I do not plant them why bother they only last a season perennials return each in certain order first crocuses occur then daffodil tulip iris peony parade from st. Patrick's through Pentecost bloom of the inevitable why bother with flowers that lasts only a season who needs them knees in the mud digging them in knotted stems and sticky leaves silly petunias pale lavender petal clowns flopping down spilling out along the ground blossoming overgrown left on planted too long then crammed in roots packed and wrapped I tear through the threads to plant them may be too late and maybe it is only for this one season but my mother loved petunias and I am planting them you

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