D.Greaves

Well Veresed. Never Rehearsed.

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    RUNNING INTO WORDS (A WAY)

    i remember an adolescent primed and prepared

    with one foot in the street dynamic and the other

    on the threshold of a poetic dynamic

    i recall fondly a 14 year old discovering an empty room

    a room isolated from the street sciences

    a room offering protection from the petty beefs 

    turning more deadly each passing day

    a room in which i could temporarily escape 

    the innate ghetto inheritance of fear

    and run into words

     

    how many days did i wake up thinking

    this is it..my last day

    sure nuff im going to accidentally step on a brothas

    new air jordans or rap to the right girl

    living on the wrong  block on the left side of town

    will i die walking to her house or on my way home

    and being preoccupied with the  reality

    will i inadvertently step on my new enemies 

    brand new air jordans

    i mean we both have reps to protect right

    and  running into words cant help me escape

    the reality of a senseless death 

    his or mine

     

    i remember vibing with the most militant cats

    the dudes who you didnt know and didnt want to know

    the dudes who never spoke about their experiences

    in hell so you knew  instinctively that hell is one hell

    of a hot place to reside

    they tought me to let the sweet dee die

    to kill my fantasies and face the reality of being

    just another black face in a faceless crowd

    and above all they implred me to  run into words

    and away from hateful  words spoken

     

    in that  room isolated from the smell 

    of the ghetto ablaze i could be malcolm

    on a new york street  corner preachin about 

    a new religious drug

    i could be el debarge not kinky haired dee

    because back then young ladies didnt dig cats

    like me

    thank god for mike jordan but to hell 

    with his shoes nah mean

    too many to step on..like land mines 

    in afghanistan..you just didnt know

    what you didnt know until...momma was crying

    dying wasnt an option so i cultivated

    my huey p. newton and found solutions 

    by running into words

     

    i remember a young groom full of trepidation

    and scared out of my mind

    by walking hand in hand with her will 

    i be faced with the reality of being what i am not

    will i be forced to delay the contrast  of word interplay

    with the awareness of being 

    after all i cant share this room i reside in

    you see this room though it contains a window

    to my soul is windowless for others attemping

    to determine who i  am

    it is only meant to be viewed when i decide

    damn yall its the only thing i own

    after all my inner thoughts  are the only vehicles

    i own that are not leased  to the world

    its my world and i found it  by running into words

     

    love affairs end  with most poets dramatically

    sadly..metaphorically..it has be be because 

    the blues  aint blue if you dont think in colors

    and as a poet i live in technicolor

    though reality says  the world is black and white

    truth is no one is right and very few are wrong

    i accept interpretations of dee the poet 

    but refuse to allow inspection of dee the man

    why..do i have somehting to hide

    i wish for those wondering my life was that dramatic

    its not even close sad to say

    im not a playa but i have been played

    not a soul slayer but i have been slayed

    not a deliberator but i have been delayed

    not a prayer  but i have been prayed for

    i have lived for and amost died for ..these words

    to live in this room..to run into words and find a way

    to reconcile your reality with my sense of reality

     

    so if i stepped on your new air jordans

    accept my apology because the reality is

    if we dont have words to run into..we will run into 

    each other..and away from the protection

    of an isolated room..and into a mine field..

    something has got to give..so i give you my words

    and i promise to protect yours

    am i being kind or generous 

    not at all ive just stopped running

    words are my home now..i can only pray

    you have stopped running away from yourself

    and have found a home 

    by running into words

    • 18 July 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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    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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