Tag Archives: A Different Kind Of Blues

Youth whistles his name  — twelve years of life balancing between eroded curbs just on the edge of Hancock street. He wears grown man shows on his feet and abandonment on his mind as he studies parental strangers with a false toughness but in his eyes is the vision of a child brought up in […]

If I wrote the best poem in the world I would dry the tears on the silent neglected streets where lamposts blink the sounds of destruction, and in the eyes of poverty I would stare into each child’s vision and inpire in them the hope, strength and victory of success. I would wake up drug […]