Seed among Thorns


N – Utero — Seed Among Thorns

The Unborn


Milk leaking from too full breasts

Breasts Longing for a Babe gone before birth.

A cold stone in Place of a Son.

A shooting star dissolved into a million Universes. Icarus too close to the sun. Sunset before Sunrise.

Poisoned amniotic fluid your River Styx. Extremities bubbling in wastewater.

Rachel wept for Her children because they were naught.


He hexed my Womb. Did he? Who knows?

Didn’t want to be a D.V. Child.

My son will never be a Pinball Wizard.

Hijacked by the Spermazoid Svengali.

Charmer. Bon Vivant.

Your initial false luster did me in.

Your handsome face set with marks of confidence, flecks of intelligence liberally sprinkled with jutting arrogance. Your voice once mellow and melodious became a Raging Storm. Clacking. Cracking.

Uprooting thousand years old Forest. Paving it over with sharp jagged rocks that produced poisonous suffocating vines.

Enwombed embryo sensed futures forlorn.

Traded gray and grainy for silver and gold.

Seed among Thorns.


So twisted that if you Swallowed a nail you’d shit a corkscrew.

Ours was a household filled with Madness and Mayhem.

Anger and Pain.

Your Anger. My Pain.

*D.V. Domestic violence


Featured

Baby Boy


He looked like an Angel albeit a broken Angel splayed out on the cold marble floor. His head at angles with his twisted body along with his staring unseeing eyes extinguished any hope that the embers of life still burned within him.  The earth came up to meet him and swallowed him into the heavens.  The Benjamins make a poor parachute.

Cupid shot by his own Arrow.
Cupid shot by his own Arrow.

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Baby Boy

Baby Boy Got $200 sneakers as a reward for cussing the teachers and failing in school. Teacher or principals fault. Grades all F but it ain’t me you fucked up can’t you see! School’s for Fools. Some place I don’t want to be.

Baby Boy he never wrong. They got it all mixed up seeing me strong. Y’all know I’m the King of my crew. God’s Gift to everything.

But in the back of your head all you can see is yo’ no count Daddy, welfare system and crackhead Momma staring back in the mirror saying you gonna be like me.

Hanging out in the upper class nabe with my hoodrat crew. See a few things I wanna take. Wait a minute! What’s that I hear! A siren in back of me. Starting to fear. Next thing I’m on Lock down in Juvie Hall. Where my crew at now when as I’m taking this fall.

Baby boy lying in a ditch. Worse off than being a Snitch. Off to Rikers’ to be somebody’s Bitch. Baby Boy. You Done. You Done.

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His rhymes had got him to the big time. Opened new doors of upper class vice and sin. The immoralities of the 1%. I gazed at my son from the balcony of one of the greatest art institutions in the city seeing not the young man who had entered the 27 Club of the Immortals but every little boy running up and down Linden Blvd., Jamaica Avenue, Fulton Street or Sedgwick Avenue running to be the next 50 cent or Jay-Z finding fame and winding up on 27 Jump Street misjudging the doubles lives one foot in the hood and the other on Central Park West or the Upper East Side seeking Hipster fame and validation.

Jump my Son/Sun. Jump out of your dreams and into Eternity.