Sunday Service

As a kid we'd go to the library every second Sunday

Driving past the churches

I'd ask my father what's up with all the well dressed people?

Never mind that son, he said.

Later I sat in my room with 7 books surrounding me

The only service I ever needed

We aren't that different though

We both found salvation in fiction

No judgement either

These hands hold pens

Not gavels

dtr.

 

 

Food Desert

 

I stumble towards the bright neon lights

They cast a warm addictive glow over this food desert

I’ll take a micky d’s triple cheese

With a side of corporate sleaze

Whoa! Now that’s a real combination

A result of the combo-nation

5.99 to dine on swine

No heaven behind golden arches

The true wealth is health

The real revolution in the libraries

My pops would drive by the churches

To make me a product of intelligent design

Inspiration from the non-fiction to the fairies

It was there a young version of myself found strength

Recovering from trauma while missing my momma

Fuck punctuation, or where to put a comma,

There’s no pressure to show up

Just show the glow when you can

dtr

 

 

Poetry Dump

 I'm in the process of making a new webpage. I'll just be dumping creative writing on this page from now on. I mean, that's all it is anyways. This is just stuff scribbled on notepads and napkins. 

I sit and enjoy crime docs
Safe from homicides within blocks
I'd never step on.
Vaccine or not...
Those areas infected
Violence expected and accepted
All too often
       heat filled streets
Give birth to bloody tees and dope laced beats

Secluded in the suburbs I could ignore
The ugly and the poor
Hating the police
We'd have the luxury
To emulate that hate
Far from the words in our favorite songs
We got the warnings
Emptied bags and smashed bongs

Second chances... I must reflect
On the words to become a better man
Only through the prose will be my salvation
I grow older and become thankful
Of those who cupped their hands around my dying light
And offer my own candle to a roadside memorial on a cold winter night

Approximately 10-12 volunteers work in the JHS literacy program. We take new volunteers two or three times per year. If you are interested in volunteering, you can contact us at 204.775.1514.

Damn.
Little homie has to be only fifteen
Shaky hands with a can of mace in my face
I'm getting robbed for a king can
Just so the kid can feel like a king man
If only for a night
Tough times got me debating between guaranteed safety and a fight
Foolishly I held my ground
Truth be told he got one can and I got the other
Sip that one slow brother
What's up with this summer?

I know a couple Isabels
One's a little heart beat
The others a violence covered street

Back in St James the privilege was easy to see

We'd ride around in caddies and town cars

Stuffed with baggies and scales

Was there any less harm to those sales?

Fitted caps passing around pressed together caps

We played as CJ with no entrance into the CJ system

I have a homie I owe an apology to

Cause I watched him go through an unfair probation

Had to be home by nine just for being in the wrong place at the wrong time

Writing the same tests but he was drug tested

Smoking the same spliff but he peed in a cup

No justice in the courts

Just grand gestures by overpaid jesters

So the bitterness in his heart festers

"Fuck it" he said

"I'll fit the frame"

One day his eyes changed. A gun hidden in his hoodie.

Nothing was the same.

dtr.

 

Window Shopping

Allow me to speak graphically
That when homie got hit with the stray
I saw his white polo go blood red
From a plain K Swiss to a graphic tee
Later the courtroom was it's own tragedy
No justice just grand gestures made by jesters
So the hate in his mother's heart
It grows and festers
Word is she just sits by the window
With a coffee in her hand she hasn't drank for days
She whispers but nobody can hear what she's saying
Some say she mumbles
Others swear she's praying
I'm not sure myself
But I know something about survival
Day to daying
Show her the light!!!!
Show her the fight!!!

dtr.

Wandering Thoughts

The decaying city
Was once the praying city
An artist wanders down the deserted streets
Seeking inspiration from the loss and moss
Something dangles between his fingers
Either a blunt or a cross
Trying to rationalize the lack of god's rise (Don't tell me to capitalize)
Faith tested by the highs
Faith tested by the lies
Faith tested by love's demise
He wrote it all down with tears in his eyes
But there was strength if you believed
Resilience in the small revolution of thought
(Truth) a garbage can fire casts dark shadows behind the writers
They had the power to bring peace to the fighters
But paintings had become hated
Words even more
If it didn't fit into a telly time slot
It stayed in the attic of the mind to rot
The once bustling downtown now vacant and boarded up
The only thing left behind were the oddly placed statues
Arms outstretched
The coins collected now worthless
I see you survived..
And ask myself
Is love worth less?

dtr.

Stronger Now

You woke up with the world on your shoulders
Knees buckling
Wish gasping breath
You rose anyways
You're stronger now.

You cried
Sobbing towards the sky
The price we pay
When the soul has something to say
You're stronger now.

You left the deceitful comfort of a toxic relationship
Cold and shivering
You packed what you could
And found new inspirations on the journey home
You're stronger now.

You stopped smashing your fists against walls
No more comfort in highs and lies
Not alone brother
You sought therapy
You're stronger now.

We're stronger now.

dtr

Notebook Portal

I climbed my way to salvation with the light of her auburn eyes

Whispering red hot summer lies

Terrified of the long winter spent sleeping alone at night

I was far from the only one

A line of suitors in three piece suits

Lined up for miles outside your beachside villa

I was known for my lack of accountability

Brooding over poems as the waves crash against the pacific coast

Interrupted by a gust of that sweet summer air

A mixture of lilac and your perfume ensnares me

Fate dares me

Scrawling furiously to capture the feeling before I lose it

I always took walks at night and rumor had it you also had a secret escape

A grotto beyond the common path

With crystal clear water and a sun that never sets

As many things in life I considered myself lost

And then you were just there

Nude under a bright blue waterfall

The feeling, I've lost control

Beyond me, they were cascading

And I'm slipping on the rocks as I try to get closer

I'm fading, losing this dream

The only thing I could remember was those hips and a small smile on her lips

Waking up I realize my notebook felt a bit different

Indeed, when she chose, she rose out of the words

And I'd fall face first into the world I created

dtr