Saw a Japanese Maple today….
We had a Japanese Maple….
Some kid destroyed it….maybe….
Or….. I rammed it too much with the lawn-mower….over and over again….
Perhaps you pruned it to death…always cutting……Couldn’t leave it alone…..
We had a Japanese Maple…
Don’t nod as folks passby….
They’ll think you’re beneath them.
Don’t say hello to seniors….
They’ll think you want something…
Don’t complement girls….
Construed as a pervert…
Don’t look at boys playing ball…
Same rule applies….
Don’t talk to yourself….
They’ll lock you away….
Don’t go untrimmed….
Mistaken for insanity. …
Don’t follow your own god….
No one likes individuals….
Don’t make your own rules…
Who the hell are you…
Just keep to yourself….
And know you dont…belong. ..
That’s all….
That is all…
Kids chewin’ fat..
Hands slapped…..
Flirts with bad intentions….
Do mom’s know you out…
40oz. shared..
Wild screams…
Show’s….’bout ta’ start….
Auto’s audio…blarin’ bass….
Swishers…..Philly Blunts…
Sweet smells fill the air….
Curvy girls get the prize….
Hoopin’….hollerin’….
Whatchoolookinatmynigga….
Giggles…wiggles…
Homeboys rap in Spanish…
Cruisers passby….
Yo…it is what it is…
And….what is it….
Chil’ dog…you ain’t dat old…
Kids smirk…fatman waddles…
Hear….
Young once too….
Go-on…enjoy….
Do it now….all you want…
It is what it is…..Right….
An Obama phone run out of minutes….texting unlimited….
Meds in a daily dispenser doled out like candy coated pleasant pellets….these are the comforts of life..
I’m all the way up….nothin’ can stop me…all the way up…..an’ you can stay up….
Rap rings constantly…so does a large screen television…loud….loud…loud… the ongoing need for sleep…the need for normalcy…..
I’m all the way up, French Montana keeps reiterating….beats bouncing off walls….words filling minds…minds turning….on/off….depending on the drug chosen….
Abilify…..K2…….crack…Cymbalta..smack….Seroquel….what’s the difference?……10-20
I’m all the way up….an’ you can stay up….
We got along fine…’spose…
Craters along the way….
Didn’t fall in…too often….
Games played…
Various entertainments…
Don’t know….
A look over the shoulders….
Who trusts who…..
Wanna drink….?
We all got along fine ‘spose….
Craters along the way…..
Didn’t fall in…too often….
Bothered?….
No….not at all…
Good….that’s good….
Look….look at what happened… the Romans….
What..
Got cocky…just straight out cocky….fucked with the son of god…..
You can only hold onto something for so long….
Right….so…in America….where milk is fed to babies…and Polio’s gone….
Your point….
Pass the salt….
And wars go-on as wars always will…a black kid can sit next to a white….water fountains…the whole shot….
Your point….
Things aren’t so bad….the pepper….Pass the pepper…
No….’could be worse….
hard ta’ say….
over time….what would happen…
a lie….a tale….perhaps untruths….
who knows…
everyday somethin’ unexpected… constant state of emergency….
lives lost…friendships forsaken….
families in disarray…..
don’t count on anyone……
not a soul….he told me
do i need to explain….
head nodded…message sent….
blade bloody….time wasted…
lunch hour over….
go….don’t come back…just go…
time will pass….
The table was set ahead of time while potatoes in onions and red chillies danced on butter with jalapeños…..garlic sashayed…
Eggs whipped….percolating coffee……a jam session in high order with rim shots and toast shakin’ ’em down….Yes…yes…yes….Amen….
A flute of Champagne poured… candle lit….creation dolloped with sour cream….Cilantro….what the hell….
Alone….eating alone…..
It never felt like this before….
Lay and breath….”So What” streams through headphones in a darkened room….Miles never sounded so sweet….
Forgetting all….abandoned …. abandoning…..leaving behind crimes comitted against….and towards…..always the ying and the yang….all are guilty of some sin…..
Tired of hurling stones…throwing boulders….too heavy….and for what….a fool’s solace….
NOT NEEDED…..
This tranquil night….with day’s fight done…listening to air through brass….notes richly hit….and softness is on the way….
Thank you……
To sit at the counter…slurping thin chilli from a tablespoon while waitresses waltz by in tight whites and Mexicans in hairnets take orders as Mexicans do….why…..’Cause they have to….
There are dishes to wash…tables to wipe…floors to mop…and fries to fry, I need a number 7 Jose, screams an eye-lined redhead, And make ’em crisp…..you know…..
No longer white man’s work….too much…too hard….Miliniels too soft…a migrant’s pilgrimage…from Oaxaca…to Chicago…
to Cleveland …..to New York…ship ’em out….we’ll make more…
And potatoes peeled pile-up….cans o paste poured….tomatoes stewed….
Now sits a bowl of thin chilli…slurped with a silver tablespoon….
Make ’em crisp, is told again, Make ’em crisp….
dmseay 