I spoke with God today,
Out in the Ocean off of Brigantine New Jersey specifically,
near the south jetty.
God said storm clouds
and sheets of rain,
Whipping West winds and swells high as trees.
God said seagulls hung in the slate-gray sky
like kites over the Ocean
And blasts of arctic spray on my back,
and the Taste
of salt in my mouth.
I said tears and hoots
wordless howls and hollers.
I laughed and coughed up lungfulls of that batismal water
and let those winds rip through my salt-stiff hair.
I gave my body to the water
I let it throw me and bury me
Destroy me, if that was what God desired.
Yet God said a wet Marco stumbling out onto the beach,
smiling like a lunatic.
God happened to be eating at the same pinelands barbecue pit as I,
for I saw God in the faces of old wrinkled laughing African-American men and women,
and in the children playing in the sandy parking lot
among the pine cones and dried needles.
I saw God again that night, in the light of the setting sun
reflecting off of the sign for Route 40
and in the fireworks in the summer night
Exploding over the Pine Barrens
and in a flipped over Jeep on the side of the road,
flaming and spitting out smoke.
It’s been some kind of day
3 Comments | tags: children, god, New Jersey, ocean, ocean poem, ocean poetry, original poem, original poems, original poetry, originalpoetry.org, Poem, poetry, route 40, seagulls, water, waves | posted in Uncategorized
Sorrow in your eyes
Towers in demise,
What an unpleasant surprise,
listening to childrens cries.
Leave a comment | tags: arts, children, demise, destruction, eyes, original poetry, originalpoetry.org, poetry, sorrow, spirituality | posted in Uncategorized
no more STD’s please
it’s not what we need
we’ve got poor to feed
not children to see
how these hearts bleed
from this terrible disease.
Leave a comment | tags: bleed, children, desease, feed, heart, hearts, Infection, original poetry, originalpoetry.org, Poem, poems, poetry, poor, STD, STD's, STI, STI's | posted in Uncategorized
Broken, Shattered, rundown Dreams Incomplete
In the streets black spiritualists preach
As Pipe-fiends weep Because their children won’t
And Forever they’ll sleep
In the dirt lot across the Street
Buried beneath the trash and the Filth and
Betrayed with Deciet
Of Freedom when we are born
In a Prison
And we teach Ourselves,
Although many don’t learn and
we who do reach
And we reach
Desperately Beseeching in a World
Full of Villains and creeps and to
God they entreat to grant Salvation
to the World we created
In the Projects where
Darkness only grows
In the Pockets of the Criminals
Holding Dope for dealers and cash
Flows into Selfishness and Greed
And the Government misleads and Fear
and Anger breed beneath the
Streetlights and wired Fences
is where the seed is planted and
Wickedness starts in the Hearts of the
Landlords of the Tenements
and broken glass covered streets
And Crumbled concrete
and the Cities Heartbeat is
Is Never at peace
Only the Bullets can release and
Murderers hold the Keys
1 Comment | tags: anger, beseeching, black, born, broken, bullet, children, cities, concrete, criminals, deciet, dreams, entreat, filth, freedom, government, greed, heartbeat, keys, learn, murderers, poetry, preach, projects, reach, salvation, shattered, sleep, spiritualists, street, trap, trash, villains, wickedness, world | posted in Uncategorized