In the grass
A brass band
Plays
I’m kneeling
And I hear the music singing
From my hand. Continue reading “Good Hope”
In the grass
A brass band
Plays
I’m kneeling
And I hear the music singing
From my hand. Continue reading “Good Hope”
If someone tells you
to spit fire then
give heat like a stove Continue reading “Spit Fire”
Stop asking fools for
acceptance when they are the
ones who need guidance
Originally published in “Spit Fire”
First of all I’m tall
Face strong
Real different huh
Speak my mind
But that ain’t how they want me to be
Stressin’ but ain’t nothing progressing
But that ain’t how life’s supposed to be
Everybody wants me to be this, be that
But that’s not what it’s gonna be!
The tiger
He destroyed his cage
Yes
YES
The tiger is out
Originally published in “They’re Singing a Song in Their Rocket” and “You Will Be Able to Say a Thousand Words”
My white lie got bigger and
bigger. My white lie was that I
ate the last cookie and said that
somebody ate it. I was 8 years
old. The lie was at my house. When
I lied the house looked like it
was not safe.
I told the lie to my mom
and dad. I said, “I didn’t
eat the cookie my brother did!”
I lied because I didn’t
want my mom and dad to
ground me. I felt
unhappy because I was lieing
to my mom and dad. My mom
and dad still grounded me
because it was what I got for
lieing. I feel good right now. Now
I feel safe in my house.
The big Brown mego mansion
My Brown mansion is Brown as
it can be
new york is my favorite city and
it is so silver it’s Like a diomand ring.
while in new york if i dont get the new i phone 8t i will break
my head to peices
we are in new york at the mall
and i want the new 12’s so if
i don’t get them i will melt.
This poem is on fire.
red rose
panda’s glow
red rose
shine in the night
Panda’s sleep at the
pink shining light
As a bug quiet as a
mouse
Then they’ll see who shines
So bright
And panda’s sleep at
this quiet night.
As panda’s sleep red roses
bloom with leaps
Home to
Kids running on pilgrimages until the street lights came on,
Anacostia,
Where you were bound to see ten ice-cream trucks a day,
And a pink pickled egg in someone’s hand.
Everybody knew everybody,
From Barry Farms to Wahler Place
Why so much beef now?
I remember when I discovered abandoned buildings,
Climbing until I couldn’t anymore.
Anacostia,
Where the 94 bus came.
Could you believe it was only 75 cents?
I will never forget–
The holder of my innocent thoughts.
Every day,
I lived in a different game,
From Freaky Friday
To Shame, shame, shame.
Anacostia,
Is a possibility.
Every portion of cracked concrete has a face,
Telling the history of how rich it was and will always be.
“Pinch me because I must be dreaming”
About Anacostia.
Home to culture,
Southeast, and finger-licking memories.
Home to Go-Go.
Anacostia.
If we did not have Hispanic month, we would have no history.
Without history, we would not have culture.
Without the culture, we wouldn’t have food, dances, and language.
Because we celebrate culture, we celebrate everything.
We learn we think.