D.Greaves

Well Veresed. Never Rehearsed.

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    MY FAMILY

    Broken1

    walking around

    the bazaar of all nations

    holding a soft pretzel and a juice

    it was a friday night

    december 1979

    i remember because mom and daddy

    had formed a temporary truce

     

    left on my own

    back then kids could safely roam

    all through the stores

    finished my soft pretzel

    still had some juice

    so i went  back and bought one more

     

    soft pretzel still piping hot

    from bernies oven

    store speakers blaring

    spencer davis group

    gimme some  lovin

     

    i walked into the store

    that sold old paperbacks

    searching  through the old wooden racks

    my hands rested upon

    stories of sports glory

    and the autobiography of malcolm x

    smiled and thought in my young mind

    aint too much a good story cant correct

    except my family

     

    i took five books

    to the cashier lady

    she raised a brow

    said young man how old are you

    maybe 13

    this book is too much for you right now

     

    i said yes maam

    but with  all due respect

    i live on the edge of abuse

    so i have a need to read

    pretty soon as matter of fact maybe tonight

    momma will reach for a knife

    and my daddy will bleed

     

    she rang me up

    still shaking her head

    saying my god you are way too young

    but who am i to stop you from escaping

    aint no age limit when trouble comes

     

    i walked back to daddys car

    we didnt drive far

    before daddy cursed and momma swore

    never understood why

    momma always said she was leavin

    and the next day she would be back for more

     

    now that i am grown

    writing this tome

    i realize momma wanted 

    for me and my brothers any kind of home

    you see that was a time in the black community

    not too many mothers were raising kids alone

     

    i would hear the women talk

    on our front steps 

    comparing bruises 

    and comforting the one most upset

    friday night  december 1979

    still i night i cant forget

    blood spilled in my family

    daddy why do you talk so much

    i read all about knife wounds and such

    the blade you shouldnt touch

    thats for the paramedics to remove

    from the chest 

    of my family

     

    you see 

    momma and daddy

    had reached the point

    when hate filled lava starts to flow

    in my room

    i lost myself in detroit red

    and pretended i didnt know

     

    i had a funny feeling

    in the pit of my chest

    today they would diagnose it as stress

    but back in december 1979

    black folks always prayed to god

    and hoped for the best

    what shall be shall always be

    reading about black unity

    wonderin if i would ever see

    the real meaning of family

     

    walking around

    the bazaar of all nations

    stopped for a soft pretzel and a juice

    it was a friday night

    december  1992

    my wife and i had formeda temporary truce

     

    i walked into the store

    that sold old paperbacks

    happy to have my wife off of my back

    never were we

    like my momma and daddy

    we prefered verbal attacks

     

    i stopped and stared

    at the old cashier

    thought  my god she has aged in 13 years

    she turned to the right 

    and i saw old damage to her left ear

    most likely

    from her family

     

    i said hello

    i usta come here as a young fellow

    i am sure you dont remember me

    that night 

    despite your reluctance 

    you let me buy malcolms autobiography

     

    she smiled and said 

    honey it seems we all 

    walk a path that we a powerless to choose

    before you know it 

    13 years gone by

    and you never stopped to cry

    or touch the scab of a bruise

     

    i said  thank you so much

    i was touched

    and started to walk on out

    she said come here and gave me a hug

    whispered in my ear be strong like malcolm

    when push comes to shove

    it was like she knew

    there was trouble in my family

     

    i met my wife 

    in the lamp store

    she looked at me and asked if i was okay

    i made up some kind of lie

    daddy always said grown men dont cry

    i wonder what was his alibi

    when i saw tears in his eyes

     

    seems  no matter how hard we seek

    to prevent a repeat

    you cant easily escape 

    how you were raised

    i do believe in heaven

    but it is kinda hard  reachin for paradise

    when in hell you were made

    to question family

     

    we got into the car

    started to argue 

    all the way home

    at the house she went to our bedroom

    closed the door and complained about me 

    on the phone

    sayin i was just like 

    my family

     

    yesterday

    i was cleaning out the basement shed

    in the corner i saw that lamp we had bought

    held it in my hands

    and my throat caught

     

    my wife and i 

    been  apart 3 years or forever 

    i guess it depends

    my  brother with the bed you make

    you cant run  from fate

    or escape 

    the original sin

    of your family

     

    i put that old lamp out

    for the trash pick up

    alone 

    with old memories 

    as i finished this tome

    went back inside and ate a cold dinner

    with no noise  or ringin of the phone

    with no family

     

    Creative Commons License
    All Poetry by D.Greaves/Darwin Greaves by D.Greaves-Darwin Greaves is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.
    Based on a work at dgreaves.posterous.com.
    Permissions beyond the scope of this license may be available at http://dgreaves.posterous.com/pages/dgreaves-tos

     

     

    • 21 March 2011
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    Thanks for stopping by and visiting my site. I hope you enjoy the poetic works shared here.Please feel free to leave a comment and subscribe. You can also find me on Facebook under Darwin Greaves. While there, stop by and like my fan page. Listed under D.Greaves the Poet.

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