Poetry
by Jeremiah DeJesus
by Jeremiah DeJesus
Some say the world will end
In fire or ice
Desire tasting a clutch of dreams
Licked by wicks, they favor fire and
They scream in passion and blaze
But perish twice—
Once and again
And so some shall know enough of hate
To say ice is also great
and would suffice
Every year, once a year
For a day
or a weekend
It cries for me.
Wracking and fitful, drips fistful
It screams-spits ash.
I should’ve warned you
and told you,
before you slipped
To tomorrow.
To be a Bound Black Boy is to hear from childhood that if you can't get it…
Forget it
Forget thinking, forget how people tiptoe through life safely to death…
Scared to live
Afraid of your mind as the mirror reflects someone else today
Are you the monster?
Are you loved or afraid of loving yourself?
Looking through others to the red and blue in his rearview
To die down the white-walled hill of praise.
A Bound Black Boy is given a banquet of stereotypes when all wanted was the table…
The foundation.
Nappy-headed helmets because defense is a state of mind
And to be ignored and disrespected is the greatest offense
How little do people know and how little do people think
Nappy-headed helmets
For when no one knows anything.
Bound Black Boys
Feel the chains.
Actions taken for an illusion of autonomy
When all that is ever spoken of is economy.
Pride…
The love—
The lion of culture, of confidence, desperation and separation
Nappy-headed manes a roar
Shouting, on the dead, lies an oath
And loving chained scars to memorialize growth.
There is a Bound Black Boy who sees the home
And all that is known
Will it be all he becomes…
Will it be how he becomes undone?
He wants to be better than how he begun
But he doesn't do what he wants
Shackled by actions he doesn't feel
Until he sees the waste of space…
That Bound Black Boy hasn't moved from his birthplace.
This Bound Black Boy says
Don’t speak on freedom
For he won’t
It seems so far, so elusive, so fake, so what’s the alternative?
Crime and violence…
A recreation of your origin.
It's faulty worth,
when he places others first
as a protection…
from himself.
As he loads the gun for the firing squad.
They turn and take aim…
The path he needed to pave—
Now blocked and riddled
His bound hands tired and limp.
To be a bound Black boy is to be unfazed.
What is love when tough love is all he knows,
Hear the world keep the word Nigger,
As the state of humans slowly died,
Hear his mother teach him to never bend even while tied.
Plastered to the walls like cow lick-paint
Hooves, and cookies and milk
Tucked between a farm stall and
Caged in every way
Trading up for down
Everyday
He fell asleep with one eye open
My little elf
Eager to head south, he sat
Waiting, glowing and not closing
It only took a moment
–quiet and soft, the distance between stars–
For him to go too far
And begin to torment
All the gifts from my stomach
and the coals in my heart
is like words
Pity’s repository
Shadow representations to
concepts
and the only salvation is using
humanistic gifts of mechanical
precision.
No matter how frivolous,
Expound upon it and your words
may become concepts within
themselves.
So goes a life.
“You're asking for a basket of pigs,”
she said
Strong and distant, they tower
“You thought we’d get dirty”
Waiting away at this hour
“You didn’t think I'd lift it surely”
And she knows I surely would
If I had the power
He enters a saturated red room
With hopes of a golden bloom
Hidden in corners that tick and click and boom
Bringing his thoughts to sink with impending doom
So he opens, to the bending, the gloom, the lights, outside wind, chase, the familiar tune
Spun on the dying eye’s weave
Willing to believe, the dark won’t consume
The whole thing
“Back!” The slightest sliver of moon
Fragile and high it harkens a bastion's balloon
That will rise and fall out of his tomb with a kick and a slam,
A fee, and a foom
And yet,
He returns once more to the saturated red room.
Death happened here
That day
A habit, she made it
When she held my heart in her hands
She must have made a mistake
Because I was shown
Love is in death
and ever since
It's been broken
My arms whisper for missing pieces, warm words embrace
Please squeeze out some love
Or don’t
I love the way it sounds