Graffiti Bleu is the "Pen Name" of Novelist/Author/Poet La Mont Anthony Wright, the deepest writer you've never heard of...
Sunday, April 19, 2015
Monday, March 30, 2015
Just My Thoughts: Twenty – Seven (Two Brothers - Seven Years Apart) ...
Just My Thoughts: Twenty – Seven (Two Brothers - Seven Years Apart) ...: A little Afro hung above a face that was the color of his grandmothers cornbread/ He spent his early time alone and seclud...
Sunday, March 29, 2015
Twenty – Seven (Two Brothers - Seven Years Apart) #Poetry #REMIX
A child was born/ and at that moment/
A little Afro hung above a little face/ the color of coffee with two drops of cream diluted/
A little Afro hung above a little face/ the color of coffee with two drops of cream diluted/
He spent his early time alone and secluded/ Blocks,
Firetrucks, crayons and puzzles/
Developed an artistic sense/ curious to know what made
the clock go tick – tock/
The energy around him was filled with optimism/
The energy around him was filled with optimism/
Catholic School/ only 14 other kids in his class/ a teacher and an assistant teacher/
Mother and father watch the little Afro grow into
something magical/
“My One Son”
His mother called him by that name/
Then came another/
December 14Th 1977/
In came the Younger Brother/
In came the Younger Brother/
The
year he came there was a war for the souls of the ghetto/
Pharmaceutical products flooded certain communities
by grand design/
The energy around him was filled with cynicism/
Making the younger brother of “The One Son” grittier than he was/
Making the younger brother of “The One Son” grittier than he was/
Folding bunk beds/ is where the brothers laid their heads/
Late night it was also where the Little Afro told many stories and his Younger Brother would ask many questions/
Late night it was also where the Little Afro told many stories and his Younger Brother would ask many questions/
Two brothers, seven years apart/
You wouldn't know this had
you closed your eyes and heard them talk to each other tho/
Standing on the same Earth back to back looking at 2
different horizons/
The seasons changed and the little Afro came of age/
He felt compelled to go and baptize himself in the waters of manhood/
His younger brother saw no need for him to leave tho/
In his eyes/ they were already baptized/ minus the holy
water/
This water came from sewer pipes built by the armies who
dismantled the black family/
Doctor! Doctor! Nervous breakdown in room seven!
The family goes through crisis/
A mother gets pushed
to the very edge of craaAaazy/
The little Afro has gone far away/
When the little Afro returns the two brothers do not
recognize each other/
Two brothers Seven Years Apart/
Now also separated by the last seven years they spent apart/
Their war is a spiritual war/
A dichotomy of styles and personal truths/
The Little Afro still told many stories and his Younger Brother would still ask many questions/
You wouldn't know this had you closed your eyes and heard them talking tho/
For this time there was testosterone in their tone/
There was yelling/ there was shouting/
Posturing and bold bluffs/ chest to chest before fist of cuffs/
Ashy knuckles after scuffles/ frozen hot pockets on swollen eye sockets/
Posturing and bold bluffs/ chest to chest before fist of cuffs/
Ashy knuckles after scuffles/ frozen hot pockets on swollen eye sockets/
Laughter came after...
Two brothers seven years apart/
Doing what brothers do when boys become men/
Doing what brothers do when boys become men/
Then the system took the youngest boy/
The system that profits from public fear robbed him
of his precious freedom/
Another seven years would pass/
Again the two brothers did not recognize each other/
Yet still, the Little Afro continued to tell many stories and his Younger Brother would still ask many questions/
The stories were filled with optimism and the questions
were filled with cynicism/
Their different perspectives taught them both the value of
each other/
In spite of the different horizons they looked at, they still stood back to back/
They grew to love how much stronger two spines back to back were as opposed to one/
They grew to respect the fact/ that they had each other's back/
They grew to love how much stronger two spines back to back were as opposed to one/
They grew to respect the fact/ that they had each other's back/
Once love and respect intervened something magical
happened/
Healing began and for the first time since they were
both children/
They were at peace/ For they both realized that they were two versions of
the same man/
Only separated by two different ideologies/ and seven years of time/
- GB
Wednesday, March 11, 2015
Paradise Island... by #Collective member @BWALTERPoetry
A void seems to appear in your absence.
When you leave you are free to coast along the breeze and during your levitation. I hope you gain awareness to be mindful of your actions.
Slowly feel every subtle detail given from sensations sprouting through your consciousness, all the way down to your physical interactions.
Pay attention to the poetic chemistry, theatrically performing, and its progressions for your mind's eye to see. As you dissect you're own questions to see if it's all connected.
Or if it isn't.
Try to discover, that all is not what it appears to be, unless you fuel its energy, to be a continuous factor reappearing in future chapters.
A problem can only manifest if stored in the depths of your psyche trapped behind a rusted lock. Without any attempts for a solution to set it free.
Along with false emotions and ill notions. Eventually, will fade and drift away if never given the opportunity to be noticed.
Once that happens. You harness a magic that few encounter. But grasps it when recognizing its true power.
For that absence, has been a journey towards self-discovery. If ever attained, emit that radiant energy at your own frequency.
Once projected out towards the world. You realize entirely, you're the key for that void to be restored.
Journey well.
You're one....
Byron Walter
#SALUTE
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