Fresh Squeezed

E.R. Smith, 2018

Assaulted by youngsters in backpacks.

Backing in to unaccomodating spaces

Parents, glaring staring, shut your yap

Say nothing to my young, I’ll kill your village,

Don’t dare groom mine, they’re not fresh!

Polite is un-relevant, we’re here to pillage

Sharpened elbows at my sides, as you swipe

Focused squeezing, communicating with dark net

Grey heads shake at brute, who continues to type

Transit,  precarious microcosm of disdain

Populace on edge, shoving humanity

Bus and Train rumbles as brains drain

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The Root of Wisdom: A Tanka

Picture from pinterest.com.

©2017 E. R. Smith

pray, work, clean, love, truth

elders educate the young

fierce, hard, well, deep, tough

adjectives add to the first

blood roots,  wise ancient beings

Turn Down The Noise

©2017 E. R. Smith

Turn down the noise seeking focus

I can’t play night owl

Volume shakes the floor beneath

I just can’t allow

Commotion crowds my soul,

with dimensions of bulletins unequal

I just can’t snatch my goal,

life can be a sequel

Assaulting my pillow, dominating space

Elbow, flip, lie on my belly

Note, to, self:   to keep self ace

Turn off the damn telly

 

Some Distant Space

©2017 E. R. Smith

Close eyes and breathe

deep into distant perception

Retrieve those gifts planted

at conception

Mine the precious from the quarry

Prepare to make doubters worry

Sending your senses as retrievers

Rebuild the self, make believers

No one can read past the cover

as your small world will discover

X-rays can’t tell what’s at your core

All in one’s hands to show what’s in store

Eleven Doubting Destiny

Photography from Vintage Everyday South Bronx 1970

Feeling the change and small bills in my pocket, what can I  buy for dinner?  My little brother walks beside.  I can tell he’s watching me think.  Hmmm, I could check the Cuchifritos on Brook Avenue, but it’s way too cold to walk.  How do I get enough food for everybody with $9.45?  Sometimes I wonder why mom thinks I know what to do?  I so don’t. I wish she’d left me home with my sick little sisters and figured this out for herself.

I take a deep breathe and feel bad, mom’s nose was running too.  She has a fever.  I see Kentucky Fried Chicken ahead, maybe there?  I hate it there though, scary men like to hang out at tables. They smell like the garbage behind my building.  They stare.  My brother holds my hand as we cross the street.  Joey’s finger’s are freezing!  Shit, have no choice.  Wonder if I will ever have a choice?  Ms. Calabrese talked about destiny, a new vocabulary word.  I think for me, it will stay a vocabulary word.

©2017 E. R. Smith

 

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Notorious

Girls can’t get along, women gossip more than men, never work for a women; just some notorious lies.

Some truths:  men in a group will flex to see who is alpha, visit a barbershop to hear hot topics; the best most vicious chat ever.  Ask female employees at FOX Television how they feel about their ever so masculine bosses.

©2017 E. R. Smith