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Three Legged Chairs

make the poem like the hood couches and three legged chairs at the curb scrawled graffiti on abandon buildings fetid damp smell emanating from dark cellars two story homes run down like bad teeth make the poem like the hood litter the language with busted wine bottles scatter old mattresses people with scrawny cats color the streetlights blue have all the trees stagger like  human drunks let the wind forever sound like gunshots and sirens somewhere in all of this children play and bleed some escape on the wings of mother’s prayers some escape with bullets in the back some escape into the church or mental wards some escape into bottles and white powders some escape at the wheel of the word some run, jump, dance into beauty and fame golden name most go to graves embittered, enraged, unknown and screaming


make the poem like the hood a place of vitality and revival in the mist of desolation and despair mothers struggling to raise their children against the odds families surviving in spite of society’s attempts to marginalizes them and rob them of their self worth make the poem like this day a day that you reclaim you

Have a great Thanksgiving Holiday  family, Peace, Tenthltr2u

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