30 days pt 1 week 3

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june 20th-june26th.2008

day 15.

for lance, eugene, taray, darrin, irvon, darryl, terrance, eddie, xavier, jordan, josh, esteban, jesse, and erik

your eyes will never
be far from the mind
and headlines
filled with police reports
drive remembrances of your faces
to the forefront
of my guilty conscience.

where is the line drawn
when all are blurred?
on whose head rests
the responsibility of the future?
and when do i stop believing
i have failed you?

i count backwards in time
adjusting ages and descriptions
tracing locations on maps
to places i know you have been.
is that you, unidentified male?
were you in the hollygrove that night
or did you get stopped on chef menteur?

if i could trace the steps
your feet have walked
would i find the answers
to the questions that
haunt my sleepless nights?
would i find faint glimmers
of the smiles i can't forget?

or would i remain hopeless,
shackled to the belief
that somehow i didnt work
hard enough?

day 16.

remix to : Jimmy's Blues

Lady swayed on stage
long fingers cradling mic
as if it were
her lovers face
whispering mournful melodies
that filled the place
with the weight of her sadness

Patrons watched through whiskey glasses
twice filled and cocked back
to soften the sounds of her blows
as the
sloooooow mooooooan of the
stirred up stories
from deep within the bowels
of their souls.

Lady sang the blues
in a white dress bathed in darkness
fillin' up her emptiness
with whole notes
to tell the whole world
she ain't gon' die 'cuz she loved him*

badooom boom bip

drumsticks slip and flip her
rhythm backwards, transfixed by
memories of how his melodies
used to hang soft 'round her hips

but the brass played on
fief being paid with passions
echoes of crescendos
rising from
deep within her belly
spillin songs from lips
of sex, success, upsets
regrets, faults, and failures

she became music
held prisoner, and he was the jailor
her beauty,
chained by his madness
blastin' like a horn
but now
the brass wings
and its winds
are liftin her

feet dancing out the rhythm
Bags on the drums, strugglin
to keep up
Slim slidin fingers over strings and
Wese ..s
pluckin, pullin and pushin her
tears streaming down cheeks
erupting in ablution

Lady becomes reborn as song
blue notes turned red like fire
burning herself up to rebirth
a new soul from her ashes
while the crowd watches
bathed in sweat from the
heat her heart is hurlin'
beatin out the syncopations
of her
purification ritual

Singin' like this song
On this night
Iz just the beginning.

*loosely from 'lady sings the blues' by billie holiday

day 17.

forgive me, for i have sinned.
took your name in vain
and replaced him with Him...
couldnt help it, you see he
made me
scream his name
intermixed with
Jesus, it was just
like communion
on Sunday morning
when he
whispered prayers in hungry ears
made church out of
twisted sheets
and pillows clenched between teeth
felt like the
second coming
and Christ, I
never realized
possession could feel so

day 18.
"New Orleans Public Schools have a dropout rate of over 70%.
Nearly 70% of State inmates lack high school diplomas.
New Orleans has the highest incarceration rate of the industrialized world."


Usually when people are sad, they don't do anything.
They just cry over their condition.

But when they get angry, they bring about a change.

.Malcolm X.

and in the legoland known as suburbia
bricked houses
construct fences and install
the latest in security defenses
the neighborhood
'just ain't what it used to be'


on the other side of tracks
that criss-cross the heart
of urban sprawl
fresh faces don fatigues
in the daily battle with
low expectations.

a generation born
with bullseyes on backs
clings, in shackles, to a benign belief
in equality for all.
freedom is not free
when dumbed down becomes the standard
and johnny cant read
instead, reads between the lines
on momma's face
maps that lead empty bellies and
too-tight tennies down paths
to the left of not-so-righteousness.

"no child left behind"
leaves children
empty handed casualties
in the flawed design
of the master plan
to disguise the massa's plan

truth is
the youth is
ill-prepared for the future
lead half-steppin
towards P.I.C.s*
instead of PhDs
and we call this
the land of the free?

systems based on hypocrisy
lead open minds to closed doors
where there are more
revolutions made
through the revolving doors
of central booking
than on the battlefields
of crowded streets at the hearts
of our cities.

while society laments the
degredation of the ages,
crying out for more cages
to lock up the ills we have created.

and where does that leave me?
with no time for tears on the face of reality
i'm teaching to transgress lines
and unlock cells
that quell the angry minds
born into submission.
the mission is clear
time to
emancipate brains from chains
of mental slavery
to bring truth
to the notion of
complete freedom, justice and equality
by any means necessary

because i teach to shape a better future.
what do you do?

*loosely my boy jeff
p.rison i.ndustrial c.omplex
loosely bob marley
totally malcom x, respectively.

day 19.

wings fold over
a flutter
hide the smile
behind shaky hands

you change me

and i'm shy
i hope you hear the words

messages sent on
wings and prayers
from here to there

where you are
where i picture

when eyes close and
i just cant

day 20

if i came to you
with quiet voice
open hands
could you listen
to the sounds of my heart?

it beats in tune
to the
rhythm of your sleep
and rests only
when you
are silent

day 21. ehh. lack of inspiration sets in

i miss the ocean
and stretches of water
reaching far
into horizons of tomorrow
salty sea air
kissing face and
sun reflecting off surface
like some majestic jewel
afloat in the distance

how her
gentle tides lulled
like lullabies
rocking rhythms
recreating the womb
when i needed retreat
her quiet calm
soaking into skin
and smoothing insanity
into peace

i miss the ocean
on days like these
97 degrees and sunny
driving down
roads that lead to nowhere
searching for space
to dive into cool blue
and leave this place

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