FREESTYLEVISION

The heat impregnates Jorjian Brown. Like a car-jacker at night. Taking advantage of what isn’t his to begin with.
“Let me out!” a neighbor cries from Olive and Summit.
“B*tch. Let me out!” Or was it a meow? There were small cats that permeated the floors below her. Not kittens, but little tiny cats. They urinated on the shredding carpet, foul beads sweating in sun-faded, mutant orange.
“Stay here.” The brown man crosses the path of a crow flying jaggedly, a wild jackal, unseen to the crop of dealers just sprung up and hissing with spackle.
Fat raccoon in fence, slipping through metallic crosses and viper-laden wire. They never come out this early in the day. Finding that sparkplug of indecency in all of us. Time tranquil, passion resolute, Jorjian Brown sits steadily by her cracked windowpane, where a smudge of chapstick reeks its glutinous odor into the sun.

Gunshots on the hill tonight. Things like this keep happening. Weird sh*t. Jorjian called the police. She was the only one that called. Five shots and her knees were knocking. It must be her meds. She didn’t feel safe. Like that girl in second grade who got shot through the wall in her apartment. Like her uncle shot in the head. Like when she got shot at in Jamaica, Queens, ducked behind a van and got in some stranger’s car and drove off. And Jato wasn’t scared that night. But the kids in the projects scattered and things grew quiet and the air blew soft, and I knew sh*t was gonna go down.
“You think I’m playin’?” He howled through the bricks.

Now everyone would know she called the cops. Again. And they did know.
“They wasa just firworks.” But Jorjian knew they were shotgun sounds getting closer and closer to her complex with every thump.

Jorjian called Beatriz but all she said was,
“Wash your face and go to bed. I’m sending you big hugs.”
To herself she wondered, who the f*ck were you? Her mother-f*cking mom? If so, she’d rather take her mom. Jorjian hung-up missing Travis and feeling emptier than before. Someone kept howling outside. And Calli and her boyfriend lied to the cops.
“It was firworks. I saw him light ‘em.”
“A grown man with fireworks.” The young cop on a bike frowned.
“Man, weird sh*ts been goin’ down.” They took his word over Jorjian’s.
His word over hers.
He lied and they believed him. I sank into my covers. Ready to wake up at three am.

you grinned and broke into a smile
watching as you turned this way and that
taking inventory of your robust frame
proud of the BIG man that stands before you

watching as you turned this way and that
caressing your scars and stretch marks
proud of the BIG man that stands before you
holding innocence in the palm of your hand

caressing your scars and stretch marks
spying to see how each line connects
holding innocence in the palm of your hand
longing for love to touch you this way again

spying to see how each line connects
appreciation for your body to long denied
longing for love to touch you this way again
looking to see desire reflected in your eyes

appreciation for your body to long denied
a tear shed in remembrance for a lovers lost touch
looking to see desire reflected in your eyes
the heat of sex appeal ripples over your skin

a tear shed in remembrance for a lovers lost touch
taking inventory of your robust frame
the heat of sex appeal ripples over your skin
you grinned and broke into a smile

She wonders what his hands must feel like. Beyond rough. Beyond the slip of her skirt. A tattoo in this crease. A nail missing here. Hair like barnacles. Words slurped foam spewed between a layer of plastic.
“Don’t mind him. He’s got that thing in. To whiten his teeth.”
“I’ve never done that before.” Jorjian bites.
“That’s cuz you got hella white teeth.”
It’s true. She guesses. Jorjian Brown was born with the bone of whales. Her gaze springs back to his hands. They dart from here to there. Gesture to the sky. A white haze throughout the neighborhood has taken hold of everyone on the block. Everyone on the hill has lost their mind. And yet she calmly begins to wonder. What woman has the honor of belonging to his inked-on wedding band? The left hand, the fourth finger in. Yes, that’s correct. But who would take him? Who, she wondered, as she let him slide a finger in deeper.

He is a righteous figure. Someone who never misses the number two bus. Someone who always hangs to the back of a line. Knowing he will get to the front in good time. He is a rock. And that’s why she clings to him. But now he clings to her. Fallen atop her white figure to be waxed. Slick, she is pale as glue. Another substance darts up her nose. Another wasted hour of his fingers lingering and waiting to grab her keys. Once they smelled so metallic she smiled and couldn’t stop herself from bursting out a hoot. She then sliced what she could of the key into her wrist unable to tell the difference between that and his fingers.

She had done it again. Wandered down the wrong gated alley. Saw the blackberries that no one would pick. Didn’t eat one herself because she was late to meet him. She had the shakes. But also because last night she heard a shove and the gate jingle and then the soft spray of urine onto the wall near the berries. A thorn mixed with some vodka vomited up the next Sunday morning, early like around four or five. When the skylight was full of blue and black and everyone’s eyes were glassy and the toilet bowl was open and no lines were left to take in, everyone was sweating now. A morning ritual. A shower, a sh*t, a shave. That’s what her father had said. Things like that tickled her. Words streamed into her eyesight. But things didn’t seem important to her that night. All that said anything was her mind, yelling about last night when they had huffed all the spray cans in her pantry. When had she the opportunity to scold herself anymore? When would the time come for her to feel the tiny sting of a sense of guilt? The relief of remorse for the killing of her own eyes?

The deep bricks in her brain panted with the heat of the song. Cat Power again. Crooning. But the party had died, the laughter was never there, but the party had died. The house had died and the paint chips crackled out front. Jorjian wished it would rain. Then things could get back to normal and this heat would dry up and she could kiss it away from him. Like when she blew on a flower but the petals stayed-put because they had been glued on and her dad said it was made of newspaper to save money. But they had smelled like glue and that is what she had liked. For the first time on this Tuesday she felt sad. Groggy, but sad. She ran the keys along a scarline on her wrist. The same scarline that had creased her arm and leg and head and breast for years and years, since Gordy stopped on the highway that night. He whiskered her bangs.
“How did you get that bump?” He smarted her with his dull eyes.
“It’s not a bump. It’s a scar.” She answered. The coke had run dry so her face had left the party feeling numb. A dumbness crowded her between the furrow of her sockets. Her armpits felt soft and the tiny hairs prickled her. She laughed as he came. She laughed as his hands left her alone. First time all night.

He had stopped on the highway to blow his brains to the wind. Scatter his thoughts to the gun’s tip. She stopped in her tracks. Had she wet herself? A gush of blood came rushing through the nozzle of her head. She fell to the floor. Again with the oxygen. Again with the ER nurses looking nice to her. Filling her with sweet flavors of pink and gowns of paper animals. They wore nice frocks and danced around the green room like ponies. Jorjian felt sad for these horses. The way they felt sad for her. Her mouth drooped and coins fell out. And she could see his hands covering her mouth.
“Keep quiet.”

Moe and Vinny knew it too. Travis knew it too. Things would be different now. She couldn’t tell what was good enough for her to take up anymore. Would knitting suffice? Would gardening? Fingerpainting? Baking? Snorkeling? Doing dishes was her specialty. Everyone could see it. And Jorjian did it with a smirk. It couldn’t get any worse and so it couldn’t get any better. She read and re-read the instructions on the side of the bright orange plastic bottle. Ingest. Ingest. Ingest. Before dinner, before sleep, before dawn, when he would be around her bed. The mattress is a folded spoon that Jorjian couldn’t wait to see him laying in after the time spent in a locked room with a young boy who she let roam her thighs. She would be seeing him after all those nights spent hugging the breast of a black nurse.
“You ain’t crazy. You just stressed.”
Her pink bracelet covered her keyed wrists that day. And she wore navy. From head to toe. And she asked him why he hadn’t come to visit her. He held up his hands. Not in question. But in answer.
As if they had prevented him from coming. But she knew that’s what they were meant for. He stood there. Hands in her face. Gleaming on dust.

I’ve never seen someone so untainted
Until you.
Never felt so safe and vulnerable at the same time.
Until you.
A beautiful diamond,
And you showed me every facet from every angle.
Your flaws, frustrations, loves, pains, and joys
For a moment they were all the same and so utterly perfect.
And still when I close my eyes
I can feel what it was like
When there were no barriers.
When there was no difference between you and me.
When we were one.
The sound of your voice
Breaks them down again.
Almost like we were back there again.
And it makes me want to crawl back into you and rest.
When the water hits me in the shower,
When I’m lying in my bed,
When I let my mind rest.
When I feel my skin,
I can feel how you felt it.
As though I were you touching me.
I understand how you feel
When you feel loved.
I feel now that I will never know love like this.
Teach me to trust.
Teach me to believe
That it will come again.
For your beauty makes everything grey.
So let us let this go.
And let the sadness be.
We cannot cage this beautiful bird.
But let it be free
Where it can change the world.
For in our hands it will only lead to selfishness.
Despair and destruction.
Let us send it out
Into outer space.
To rain down again
And nourish those that wither.
Knowing that for a moment
It was ours.

Red Cloud was born deep in Wyoming
In a Sioux Band he called his own
He grew up to lead the Red man
Through bloody battles to save his land
He was tall and he was proud
The last thing he would do was back down
He ruled the Sioux Band carefully
They set up camp near Fort Kearney

As the white man entered in
Red Cloud protected what was his
He attacked and He succeeded
Headin’ them off at Bozeman’s Trail
They hid in bushes and climbed up trees
They brought the soldiers to their knees
It was bloody, hardcore and intense
They killed all eighty troops in defense

All that night they celebrated
Danced ’round fires of fearless tales
They bowed down to Red Clouds fury
And named him the warrior of Bozeman’s Trail

White man openin’ up the West
When they fought the Sioux the fought the best
Red Cloud led the fearless band
But the sign of peace was in his hand
The white man scattered and ran away
He knew they would be back someday

The year was 1868
They called him down to Washington, DC
They offered him a reservation
In a bogus Peace Treaty
Red Cloud saw their strength in numbers
And the writing on the wall
He signed on to be the head chief
And moved his people one and all

Soon they learned that white man lied
They lost their legacy, pride and land
Sitting Bull and Crazy Horse
Spread the word it was by Red Cloud’s hand
All the Sioux agreed and acted
Stripping Red Cloud of his command

He lived the rest of his days in exile
On a reservation plain
He remembered the battle at Bozeman’s
And how it won him his warrior name
It was not the fault of Red Cloud
White man made sure they’d come through
But the loss and respect of his people
Broke the warrior’s heart in two
He relived his treasured moments
There was nothing else that he could do
There was nothing else that he could do
There was nothing else that he could do

Everyone cries sometimes
When your world has gone cold and hopes are low
Everyone cries sometimes
When your life is on hold and troubles overflow

You can cry when you’re happy
You can cry when you’re sad
It’s a natural emotion we all have had

Everyone cries sometimes
When your friends fade away and love is strange
Everyone cries sometimes
When your mind wants to stray to avoid change

You can cry when you’re happy
You can cry when you’re sad
It’s a natural feeling we all have had

Early in the morning the dream comes alive
People in motion living day by day
Love creates the universe for our souls to strive
People working together finding a better way

It’s all right, it will be all right
It’s all right, we’ll be just fine (Come on, come on, come on)
Join together as brothers and sisters (Yeah, yeah, yeah)
Change the world, we can do this together

Everyone cries sometimes
When the news is tragic and filled with death
Everyone cries sometimes
When your heart aches as you take the last breath

You can cry when you’re happy
You can cry when you’re sad
It’s a natural emotion we all have had

This is my first written song with music after turning 40 last week and I didn’t cry on my birthday. I’m very happy with my life and the direction it’s going.

Copyright Rich Love © 2008

Alterations
Complications
Indignation
Self Preservation

Corporate Greed
A poor man’s need
No they don’t care
No they don’t care

Homeless Man
Garbage Cans
Outside their door
Don’t want to see no more
Conceal themselves
Insulate their opinions
Cos they don’t care
No they don’t care

Interception
False reflection
Interpretations
Corporate Relations

Liaisons near
A small man’s fear
Tax cuts for the rich man here

Down sizing
I’m realizin’
Their pyramid world
It don’t include me

Colorful Graphs
Belly laughs
Let’s do lunch
The poor man feels the crunch

Blue suited Penguins
Steno and Memos
Kiss their Ass
Or your job won’t last

I wrote this poem for you
Corporate Greed
Your graphs of the world
They don’t include me…

This is desperation
My turn,
Backwards,
But forward
Progression confused
So things repeat
Now I,
Like you,
Loneliness,
Is introduced.
How you stopped the circles?
I don’t know
But could’ve sworn,
We,
Had obligations,
To keep these rounds,
In rotation.
You said
You’d hang in, no matter
The count on bandages
But I checked back at,
Our spot
Carousel of love maybe and I will leave you not
And the lights were off
And I couldn’t find the switch
That I thought would work forever
Cause in the past,
It always did.
These stallions,
Each other,
No longer, willing to chase
Giddy up darlin…
Na
Here in the dark, I see
Motivation for all the things I never gave you,
Couldn’t be erased