Poetry & Prose

Mill City Papers Vol. I

*Excerpts from Mill City Papers Vol. I

(2007-2010)

 

 

The closer i got to the city the more i heard sirens.

 

A Black kid, a Spanish kid, and an Asian kid…

Crossin’ the street together.

 

Kind’a nice walkin’ through that alleyway at 11am.  Sunshine peekin’ in here and there.  Hearin’ the cars goin’ by out on the streets?  Smell that lunch food comin’ through the back doors of the Athenian Corner and the Dubliner?  Smells like potato skins or somethin’ else frying.

 

Seen this homeless, raggedy lookin’, somewhat young girl takin’ out all these paper bags with empty Natty Ice 40’s out of the brush along the riverwalk.  There must’a been about 50 of ‘em.  She said, “Lotta cans huh?”  i said yeah, and kept walkin’.  i thought it was fucked up, in a sad kind’a way.  Few minutes later a single bird flew off the railin’ when i walked by it.  And there was a single feather stuck in a cobweb at the spot where the bird had been sitting.  i picked it up, carried it between my thumb and forefinger for a minute, then put it down on a windowsill in the back of the Boott Museum.

 

Walkin’ through the city on a rainy night.  Don’t see nobody else ‘cept in cars.  Hearin’ the water drippin’ droppin’ off the buildin’s and gushin’ out the drainpipes in the alleyway.

 

Homeless folks sleepin’ in the library during the day.

 

Them sirens penetrate the buildings…

Seems like no matter where you are, you can hear them.  Quiet!  i’m sittin’ in the Pollard library.

 

Cappy’s Copper Kettle got one’a them actual phone booths…

Old school.  i like that.  My whole life i always thought it would be cool if my spirit could go back and feel the times of the ‘50’s and/or ‘60’s and/or ‘70’s.

 

Heard this guy in the elevator sayin’ he had to move from Appleton St.  He said it’s “bad,” like “the combat zone” at night, ‘specially on the weekends…

With the liquor store and the Store 24 and the porno spot.

 

Thinkin’ “damn,” while i’m layin’ my head down to sleep here…

“That dude’s at the shelter.”

 

In the city it’s like people come outta the brickwork…

‘Cause unless you know someone personally, you don’t know what apartment they’re tucked up in.  You see the lights on, but you don’t know who’s up there.

 

Old decrepit buildin’ with a steam engine in it on Middlesex St. next to the shelter.  Wide open hole in the ceilin’…

Plenty holes in the floor…

Look how far the hole goes…

Look like the black abyss.

 

He didn’t see that, but i saw them people tucked in that alley…

Sump’n goin’ on, whatever it may be.  Middlesex St.  Ghetto.

 

Van with signs for a food drive, deliverin’ food around the way.  There was one sign on there that said “Jesus is Still Alive.”

 

All the sirens…

You don’t know what’s waitin’ for them on the other end.

 

Sunrays comin’ down through clouds shinin’ on city buildin’s.

 

When i read Kerouac’s work it makes me realize how much history this city has.  Matter of fact—me an’ my cousin were in the Worthen the other night, and these seemingly out-of-towners came in talkin’ ‘bout the history there.  Talkin’ ‘bout the architecture and the old two-bladed fans and so on.

 

Some’a these folks gotta walk miles to the store for groceries.

 

Sirens—the city’s cryin’.

 

People pickin’ through the garbage.

 

Birds flyin’ over the canal…

 

East Merrimack…

i turn slightly and see the sun shinin’ over the Sun buildin’.

 

These neighborhoods, where the houses are so close to each other—right on top of one another…

There’s a homey, peaceful feeling.  Realize that there’s people all around you, not far away, all in their little compartments/apartments.  The souls and spirits all gathered in close proximity is what creates that homey feeling.

 

Watch the night comin’ down on the city…

 

Hookslide Kelly’s back-alleyway…

i lean my recline in this stool, lean my head back on the concrete wall an’ look up at the buildin’ on the left-lane side of Merrimack St.  Feels so homey, ‘cause it’s old…

Closer to ancestry.  Closer to inception…

Closer to GOD.  Red Sox game on the hangin’ tv.

 

You want a plain example that we’re all equal as humans, regardless of ethnicity?...

Go to a grocery store in a diverse area.  i seen whites, blacks, browns from different countries.  Earthly body gotta eat, spiritual energy also need to feed.  Them little middle-eastern girls lookin’ up at me, standin’ at the corner of the 4-way intersection with their mother as i walked by.  Father had just asked me directions, i didn’t know where the place was he was lookin’ for.

 

The city’s alive…

If it weren’t for all the people, the city wouldn’t be alive like this.  The natural land would still be alive, and the birds…

But all the cars racin’ by and the interaction and commerce exchange and the beefs and the sounds and the love and the hate and all that…

 

3 stabbings last night—right there on Shattuck St.

 

You can hear the sirens inside the elevators, even when they’re movin’.

 

On top of Christian Hill.  Feel like I’m on top of the world…

Alone with GOD.

 

Sittin’ at Fortunados an’ we hear sirens…

Next we hear and see a little black car bombin’ down Middle St. …

Then a cop in pursuit…

Then another goin’ down the wrong way on Palmer St. in an attempt to cut them off.  Damn, i just arrived back in town from NY and was sayin’ i can’t believe they call Lowell a city (in comparison).

 

i’m the type to wear a shirt with a realistic picture of Jesus dyin’ on the Cross.  Some don’t know how to take it.  Some get offended, some smile.  i ain’t ashamed of GOD, so He won’t be ashamed of me.

 

Sometimes i like starin’ into brick—how it overlaps—the pattern…

Hypnotizin’.

 

It’s like a mini-city.  Watchin’ the people scatter around like ants in different directions.

 

Sittin’ at the Blue Shamrock, ‘bout 10pm, drinkin’, hearin’ the fountain runnin’—water gurglin’.  So beautiful out here with the trees overhangin’ and the white Christmas lights in ‘em…

The summer breeze is slight an’ warm…

 

When i see these old-timers in the city with their trenchcoats and fedora hats it gives me a glimpse of what it must’ve looked like back in the ‘40’s and ‘50’s ‘round here.

 

Used syringes by the canal under the catwalk for Middlesex college.

 

My uncle got mugged by 4 people in between the Worthen and the Club Diner…

Woke up in the hospital.

 

Them 2 little babies got no father now…

He was shot and killed inside a Lowell home.

 

Arthur’s Diner—like steppin’ back in time…

 

Feel Lowell…

Walk around on a rainy, overcast day…

Look at all the old architecture…

Go down to the river, under the bridges…

Walk E. Merrimack St., High St., Chestnut St. …

See the lights, hear the sirens, smell the streets.  Go into PJ’s corner store and buy a bag of chips and a drink…

See the old-timers, see the young thugs…

Try to go into the church…

Sit in the Pollard library for a while…

Read some works by Jack Kerouac…

See Fayette St., the auditorium an’ Saints Memorial hospital…

Stackpole’s right over there, Ash St. …

Keep walking…

 

Catcher’s Mitt pub, quarter-to-twelve on a Thurs. mornin’…

Sirens whale as the fire truck steams by, rumbling the wall i’m leaning on, kicking back drinkin’ a brew.  Sun shinin’ bright through the windows…

Christmas decorations up, Christmas music playin’.  i heard some states, towns, whatever, tryin’ to prohibit the word Christmas…

Man…

LORD forgive them, for they know not what they do.  Anyway…

Walked from Moore up Lincoln to Tanner St. to Plain St. and back to Moore and Meadowcroft and Bolt Sts. on business.  Beautiful morning in Lowell.

Amadeus

*Excerpts from “Amadeus”

(2011)

 

Welcome to Lowell

 

My senses adapt to flashin’ lights, sound of fire engines runnin’

Tint of blue and red got the whole block flooded

Walker street—blocked off from Broadway to Pawtucket

Finish 22 bottle’a Bud Light—got me buzzin’.

11:30 pm--what goin’ on in Lowell Mass.?—this is what it is…

Smoke and flames—drama, trauma, so here we go again…

House fire—knocked on the door, somebody phoned it in.

Make my way through the crowd formin’ in the ‘hood…

 

Some Asians show me love…

Boots straight-laced—no look on my face, I show ‘em mug

We exchange nods—they sayin’ “what’s up”

 

Down the middle’a the street I stride…

Once again the lights almost got me hypnotized

Back at the crib I sip another brew, I sit and write--that’s how this devised.

Future wiz an’ I, talkin’ wisdom good and bad

No profit grow where there’s no pleasure to be had

Eliot Church on Summer street—attendin’ the mass

Have Faith in Dad—no longer led astray by feelin’ happy, mad, or sad.

On the roof gazin’ up—the starry night it glow

Spirituality and art—talkin’ ‘bout Vincent Van Gogh…

Blue eyes, red beard—said I look like him yo

Ain’t no darkness in my soul

Ain’t got no ears so ain’t got nuttin’ for no ho.

Respect the young woman next to me—call her wifey, my counterpart

 Stare into space farther than sound—so far

God sent—made me harder than crowbar

Amadeus—Mozart

Been in the streets…

Black or white—don’t matter to me

Need peace—material greed can’t satisfy me (ha ha).

 

Father God He keep on callin’ me…

I gotta crawl on my knees…

Prostrated since I was bought and conceived…

Christ paid the price, Moms and Pops provided natural life…

And by the way the beat ride—you can tell it’s a fight

Promise you this—even when I leave—still won’t die.

 

(Lover of God).

Book of Dreams

*Excerpts from “Book of Dreams”

(2012)

 

Book of dreams, but this ain’t Jack Kerouac…

Just another poet birthed next to the Merrimack

Are you sleep or wake?—better check where ya head is at…

Dreams or nightmares?—tell me can ya rest in that?

Come on…

Had so many visions ever since I was small…

Losin’ my religion—the r.e.m. was goin’ on

Fightin’ the devil as the Holy Spirit holdin’ strong…

That is the Truth

As a teen I’d wake up drained from the stress I went through

 

Wake in a haze wonderin’ “what is all’a this shit?”…

How’d I get onta this trip?

God is sovereign either way

Watch out for those who dream in day…

They may act out their dreams is what they say

The sleepers laze and they stay

 

What a hater ever gave me?...

Nothin’ ‘cept confidence and to motivate me…

Tryin’ to drag me down but elevate me

Humble yourself—God exalts…

Fact’a the matter is the fall is not His fault

 

Dream sights of pieces of the Aiken St. bridge…

Blood-red floatin’ away down the river real swift…

Flood heads over the Merrimack like it was 1936

Time for a switch…

Best rest-movie I’ve had in a long time…

Woke up feelin’ exhilarated tryin’ to figure a way to fly…

With no plane or helicopter liftin’ me into the sky

Surprised they ain’t got a rocket-propelled jetpack designed

Ha ha—dreamt I flew over the river—higher than the birds…

Over Centralville and Pawtucketville tenements I observed…

Was a little scared to fall in the water at first…

But quickly that was gone and I was havin’ a ball and this calmed my nerves.

Red Light on Aiken Street

*Excerpts from “Red Light On Aiken Street

(2012)

 

Aiken street, Aiken Ave. …

Lakeview separates the path…

It’s Lowell, Galloway—so know to watch your ass…

Lelacheur bats…

More than that—you know the straps are stashed

Red bridge—red light…

Few years ago they found a body there layin’ dead right…

Keep on your headlights…

Keep in touch with Holy Spirit shine and never can death strike

 

In my dream I saw the bridge breakin’ apart and floatin’ upstream…

Don’t know what thus means…

Maybe it’s just me…

Maybe it’s the end comin’—must be…

So come clean

Listen as I quote Lucy Larcom—poetess queen…

Sayin’ it’s so strange to live in a revolution…

And the thought of bloodshed is such a dreadful pollution…

Perhaps she said the solution…

Which is…

If the world seems cold—kindle fires to be warmin’ it…

Combat the wars an’ shit…

Seek out the Lord an’ quick…

You won’t be poor, but rich…

Receive inward health an’ wealth instead of bein’ spiritually sick…

Join the best of clubs…

Not Centralville Social—nor can Centralville Café fill up your cup…

The True God overflow it with love…

Lowell Provision don’t provide except for the body, the gut…

True Provision come from the meaty flesh of Jesus…

Once His Blood makes appearance in our stream then It lead us…

We can forever eat in His diner—it ain’t a Cameo spot to feed us…

And none’a these street demons can ever defeat us.

 

Let Kerouac tell you—it’s so true…

He used to look for God over there on Beaulieu…

Peace to him and his brother Gerard—when they were here it was hard what they’d go through…

But Yahweh You the only One and I gotta know You…

Jack said he remembered all the times he died inside…

And all the times he was revived…

Brought back to life only when he believed in You the Most High…

We only have to believe on the Lord to live—and disbelieve or forget in order to die…

Were it not for God’s Grace we’d probably commit suicide…

But our hope in finding Him give us Light to survive…

Inner voices exclaim asking “what then do you seek?”…

There He Is—It Is He…

Without the Creator it is impossible to breathe…

To know His Love is the same thing as to Be

‘Cause the very force of existence is His Being and receiving means He lives within thee…

I gotta keep this in mind when times is rough…

When it’s tough and inside it tugs…

War goin’ on—devil tryin’ to beat me up…

But God lift me with Love—yup.

In Spirit and Truth

*Excerpts from “In Spirit and Truth”

(2012)

 

Appleton liquors, Elliot’s, the shelter on Middlesex

Baby Jesus got bread…

Community table…

Wants you to eat—let Him feed you, He’s able…

You feelin’ feeble—He’s stable…

The Rock—the Foundation…

Joubano—the Shepherd…

Not no munga preacher—He really heal lepers…

Calling the lost and sick to repentance…

Salt of the earth—in the midst of the hurt we are peppered…

Searching for truth and knowledge…

Not liras and drachmas

Do you hear us?—can’t stop us.

Just Follow the Path

*Excerpts from “Just Follow the Path”

(2006)

 

2,000 years ago the people walked—followed the stars…

Now we got electronic guides in all’a the cars

Lotta real men and women don’t get recognized ‘til after their death…

Soldier so I’m gettin’ this work put in ‘cause I could be next

Crunchin’ snow under feet…

9:30 pm—dark city street…

Sweet little voice of stranger passin’ who greets

 

Old buildin’s towerin’—flashbacks of past ages I ain’t even from

Solitary

Is the path of life involuntary?

Kerouac’s Town & City fresh in my head…

Hear scattered people talkin’—lamplights outspread…

Think’a those I knew who passed and wonder if I’m next to be dead…

Walkin’ through these unknown territories…

Pen & pad in holster in case God grants and I get a story

 

The Poet

*Excerpts from “The Poet”

(2013)

 

If I could tell you what it is…

It’s poetry and it never cease to exist…

It’s in the Spirit—the way a writer looks at the world in which he lives…

He’s a surgeon—when he finds an abscess he must remove the shit

Writin’ blues songs and poem lyrics

 

Move forward and respect the steps

Cold next to the river like Robert Frost but look…

The Spirit movin’ my hand so the Penn-a-cook…

Native to this place but God sent Eliot just like He sent the Book…

Full’a poetry

 

Poetic is Lowell…

Sittin’ on some stairs—can’a Bud Light sittin’ between my toes…

Sometimes it’s like a ritual…

Like when I sip a few…

Then the scribble tool comes out and things get written through

Look up to see a crescent moon…

January—so it’s still winter too…

Unseasonably warm—5pm though—and it be gettin’ cool

Inspired by the way those clouds are driftin’ over that street light…

Lookin’ gray in the light blue sky…

Over the roofs of the houses—down comes the night…

Clear in the Town & the City…

Is your mind’s eye here in Pawtucketville with me?...

Little kids playin’ in this street…

The sights and the sounds…

Ridin’ they bikes all around…

Everywhere I go in Galloway there’s an atmosphere that I’ve found…

I tend to think about Kerouac…

I like to give him the respect of callin’ him Jack…

Just another poet birthed next to the Merrimack as I jot in this notepad

 

The Truth

*Excerpts from “The Truth”

(2012)

 

In a true poem you go where the poetry carry you…

That’s what Lucy Larcom said and that’s the happy truth…

That’s why she got a park where me and my uncle Gary boomed…

Bangin’ on them drums…

Way back then when I was young

To write the real is what I love…

And like Ms. Larcom…

I suppose I’ll go on doin’ what I does…

Expressin’ myself in this way…

Always…

For all time—all days…

Despite the fact that it don’t make ends meet…

To earn with the pen is done with difficulty…

Not enough to get necessities doesn’t discourage me…

I ain’t ‘bout to sell out and put out what sells…

Ain’t sellin’ my soul to hell

Report internal cries and the Paternal helps…

Keep me in Heaven

Where I am now on the literary question…

Where I’m content to remain—even if I’m faced with contention

 

Followin’ the impulses of the fingers…

Ink instrument singin’…

Truth ringin’…

Occasionally interminglin’ with bullshit ‘cause’a my human views and opinions

Could do other things of my choosin’…

Other things in order to bring the loot in…

But if I’m spewin’ Truth then that’s the Lord’s doin’…

Givin’ others the best of my life…

Make the result of my livin’ worthwhile…

Trooper style.

Boott Mill Rap

*Excerpts from “Boott Mill Rap”

(2012)

 

Boott Mill rap…

Fuck a sandwich—let your ear drums eat that…

Let it go bump beat bap

Kick back relax…

Listen to my pen tip—hittin’ the drum…

Don’t get no more “Beat” than this shit does…

On the toilet seat—sittin’ my bum…

Writin’ these words instead’a flippin’ my tongue

How many generations are “Beat”?

Baby, much peace to James Dean

They call me Boots—my ink streams…

About red-brick mills that Kerouac seen…

Not to mention rhythm uncle Gary instilled in me…

Visions of a G…

Bangin’ with the band in Lucy Larcom park—I was about three

Above all we reach the mount of Beatitude peak when we seek and receive Jesus’ peace…

Never seein’ defeat

“Writers write, they don’t be askin’ people how”

 

Lemme feed ya somethin’ off my own spoon…

Here come some poetry food…

It’s like 1:00 in the afternoon…

Thursday—first day of March…

Cold and snowin’ at a good clip—good start

Walkin’ through downtown…

 

Rainy concrete Lowell is how I think of the city—it stood dark…

But snow make everything merry and bright…

Is it simply because it’s white and I relate it to light?...

Or ‘cause I relate it to Christmas and Christ?

Navigatin’ steps over slush puddles

Hush, humble…

Slow it down before ya ass stumble

Folks out cleanin’ off cars and sidewalks with shovels…

Dis-united unity…

Couple friendly exchanges…

Are we really strangers—you an’ me?

 

Could be providin’ homeless with some room and feed…

But vain upkeep is the rude routine

Hope revolution is the scene soon seen

Lemme step off my soapbox

Back to the Worthen yo—back to the spot…

When the door opens it’s like everyone stops…

Looks down the bar to see who’s next for a shot

I like the feeling of a pub in the middle of the day…

It’s winter and it’s warm in the place…

The regulars chatter about work and the state…

I overhear them as the tv is playin’ the game

Lemme be on my way…

Around the corner—Pollard Library…

Front entrance and huge doors welcome to my itinerary…

Now I’m on the 3rd floor writing this—don’t think I write rarely…

More I do, more I can die fairly…

Helping me live

Glancing out the window as the wind blow and the snow it whips…

Above Merrimack St.—heart of the city this is

Lowell research from horse’s mouth—Jack Kerouac’s lips…

Authenticity

“Book-movie”—author this city

Involved in self-discovery…

For me and all of us as the pen bleeds

Nostalgic

Romantic is the search for cultural social space that ain’t materialistic

 

Poets of genius just decorations…

If they ain’t kind and loving with their exploration

We want Jesus’ exhortations…

Get you through the mess you’re facin’.

Poetry In Motion

*Excerpts from “Poetry in Motion”

(2012)

 

Poetry’s the language of a state of crisis…

I’m writin’ it all in truth so you know that it’s righteous…

Though no man is—only Jesus the Christ is

Ridin’ through the city—I’m downtown…

Crackhead I see all the time—got a cane an’ he’s limpin’ ‘round now…

Hittin’ people up for dollars and change so he can drown out…

We numbin’ ourselves in various ways

Funny how different music change the way I stare at the scape…

My perception waves as I look out the windows—see me carelessly gaze

Poetry in motion…

Go with me—I’m rollin’

 

Lemme play you a groove—portray to you what I see in my sights…

The moon is menacin’ in the city—thin clouds shroudin’ it…

The hood’s in the dark—there’s no doubtin’ it…

No lights, no heat—no tellin’ when the switch ‘bout to hit

I’m chillin’ with Puerto Rocs and Cambodians…

Cigarette lighter—the gas stove is lit…

Get the pots and the pans—get the food—throw it in…

Cookin’ by candle…

Small children on the couch—their pics on the makeshift mantles…

Smell dinner bein’ prepared—the meat gettin’ scrambled…

Homeboy got a keg in the corner of his room by the foldout bed…

Periodically we pass each other to fill up our cups again…

One dude drinkin’ out a soup bowl tellin’ me ‘bout the civil unrest

 

‘Hood folks is some’a the most hospitable…

Offer you food out of their lack even if it’s not profitable.

Light Bulbs to Fit This

*Excerpts from “Light Bulbs to Fit This”

(2014)

 

Blind but 20/20…

Natural sight so dark but spirit inside just shine so sunny…

That was the pastor--congregation at 5th Street Baptist…

In the middle’a the ghetto

Jesus got Love—tell His followers “Let’s go…”

 

Don’t matter persuasion…

Saw half African an’ half Caucasian…

Throw in couple Asian…

Amish-lookin’ folks with beards unshaven…

Don’t matter native language that’s spoken—all about what they’re sayin’…

They’re praisin’

Showin’ peace by handshakin’

 

Readin’ through the Book of Revelation

Out the window I see Bridge street pavement…

This part’a the world that we’re placed in…

And the Last Days we’re engaged in

Mary had a little Lamb…

You know that song about Jesus man…

Born to a virgin…

Did she know she watchin’ Him grow to endure the scourgin’?

Purgin’ the pen…

Livin’ now but thinkin’ ‘bout way back then

Lately you been in the hen house…

‘Cause real mu’fuckas been bold—you mu’fuckas been mouse

This time we gotta stand firm in the Lord…

But believe I ain’t perfect for sure…

Though I’m forgiven ‘cause I’m graced with the faith

My dreams are sometimes nightmares when I’m in that state…

I know why…

‘Cause the devil my enemy—tryin’ to fill my head with lies…

Has to attack when I’m defenseless…

he already lost so his tactics are senseless…

Usin’ loved-ones against me…

Still can’t harm me ‘cause Jesus defend me…

So tender—tendin’ to me…

Sendin’ blessin’s to me…

So I’m expressin’ the peace

Prayin’ I can be a good witness…

Show ‘em that just because we sin—don’t have to mean that we’re on God’s shit-list

Spirit shine through my eyes ‘cause they lamps—He gave me light bulbs to fit this

 

(Let me see that Light—comin’ from Christ.)

Good To Me

*Excerpts from “Good to Me”

(2011)

 

Times transition into others—characters emerge

ChristChurch, New Zealand—there was quake in the earth

“The Merrimack” my book-movie—refer to Jack Kerouac

My name Jonathan Stevens…

That’s my earthly name—my spirit just breathin’…

Believin’

Inwardly in Heavenly places seated…

Thanks to God, praises be to my Saviour Jesus

So good to me—eases and teaches…

Calm patience, meekness

Sometimes my flesh-nature be seen an’ my weakness…

The more you deny addictions, negative language, behavior…

Easier it is to resist cravings and danger

Once again—we’re sheltered by the Grace of the Saviour…

Just thank Him for keepin’ you faithful

If He didn’t draw to me…

i wouldn’t be so drawn to be free with Him in my speech…

Such a peaceful release

Church is not a building—it’s those who truly believe...

One G-O-D.

Show love to everybody—‘specially true congregation…

 

Up in the Rapture—not subject to submission and killin’…

That’s the Lord—able an’ willin’

Admit your sin, accept Jesus as Saviour—be forgiven…

He know your heart—gotta mean it comin’ from deep within…

Straight believin’ it

 

The Holy Spirit, the Comforter, the One Love comin’ from above—you know what It does.

 

Thank You Father, You created everything, You created us.

Holy, Holy, Holy

Glory and praises be unto Your Heavenly Name forever and ever and ever.

Amen.

The Least That I Can Do

*Excerpts from “The Least That I Can Do”

(2012)

 

This is for my doggs ‘cause a dog don’t judge…

They forgive, they got unconditional love…

I wanna say what up to every one and send ‘em some…

Help ‘em strengthen up and spread the hugs

Enter the feast—humanity the Lord diversified…

Last night was chillin’ with white, black, Native American and Cambodian persons right…

And if you open your heart and your third of eyes…

Hate, ignorance and the curse have no room to reside.

Got Love for a Playa?

*Excerpts from “Got Love for a Playa?”

(2013)

 

Laughin’ as I stroll into downtown Lowell—end up chillin’ at Ricardo’s…

Loungin’—suits to my right eatin’, sippin’ martinis…

Waitstaff to my left talkin’ ‘bout the football game on tv…

Real-estate acquaintance introduces me to lawyers, judges and politicians when he sees me…

Cordial meeting as I’m leaving for the evening…

I see the cooks in the back alley—they greet me

Mill City Papers Vol. II

*Excerpts from Mill City Papers Vol. II

(2011-2012)

 

 

St. Patrick’s day…

i’m ‘bout half Irish…

Spent the majority of the day the only white dude with 6/7 Puerto Rican dudes.  One human race.

 

Up on Wilder street…

Ain’t no wilder scene

They mean i—it’s me

Prophecy—prophesy…

Jesus comin’ back an’ He gon’ drop the sky…

devils all gonna die

Stay with the Truth ‘cause i ain’t got to lie

Runnin’ the beat…

 

You wanna see Lowell?...

Go to the social security office…

 

A passionate embrace, kissin’ midway through the closed-in walkway on the Rourke bridge high above the Merrimack river ‘bout 9:30 pm.  Cars passin’ by—the lights go through the tunnel like a midnight train on the move.

 

i’m not in love with the streets…

But i got love for the streets…

i see you out there—wish you nuttin’ but peace…

Feel me?

 

My senses adapt to the flashing lights and the sounds of the engines running…

i finish off the 22 ounce bottle of Bud Light…

It’s around 11:30 pm on Walker St. here in Lowell, MA.  What’s going on?...

Well i left my girl’s house about 10:30—took a right going toward Broadway St.  Saw smoke and small flames coming from a roof’s overhang above a second-story porch a few houses up…

Almost didn’t think twice ‘cause it was just the beginning kindling.  Parked the car, started banging on the doors…

20/30 seconds later kid came out on the porch seeing pieces of the roof falling to the ground, smoke building…

i said “Yo you got a fire”…

He said “Aw shit, thank you.”  He went and got a bucket of water and then threw it up at the roof and actually put the fire out.  There was a kid with a cell phone walking down the street, so if i didn’t see the fire he would’ve called 911, ‘cause he was looking at it with concern before he even saw me…

This was after the kid came out and thanked me for banging on the doors.  Fire and rescue trucks showed up—they blocked off Walker St. from Broadway to Pawtucket St.  i walked from Walker to 4M’s on Broadway—seeing the ‘hood and those that live here on the way (some didn’t look too happy to see a stranger walking through their neighborhood)—i bought a beer (dude at the counter dropped it and i had to get another one)…

i walked back and a couple Asian dudes on Broadway showed love, sayin’ “what’s up man.”  i turn on to Walker St. and walk right down the center of the street, almost hypnotized by the flashing ambulance, fire, and police lights.  The residents are watching me.  i get back to my girl’s house, open the beer, drink and watch the fire fighters work to make sure the house is structurally sound.  My senses adapt to the flashing lights and sound of the fire engines running as i finish my beer.  Now i sit here writing this…

It’s 11:52 pm—7/10/11.

 

Walkin’ into Eliot church Sunday morning talkin’ ‘bout black holes and if they’re for real.  God is the Light at the end of the tunnel.  i always wear a white rag on my head when i go to service.  An African lady walkin’ up the street asked us if Eliot was our church.  We said yes and she asked if it was good.  We said yes and she said she knows it is, said the Lord woke her up at 2:30 in the morning with a vision of Eliot Church, said she saw people in white walking out of the church like soldiers.  She said she was a Catholic missionary on her way to a church on Middlesex street.  We said she should come to Eliot sometime ‘cause it’s a good church.  She said she would and she knows it is ‘cause when the Lord shows her something she knows “it’s real”.  i piped up and said “Right.”  At this point she extended her hand to shake mine and as we were shaking hands she prayed a short prayer over me, in English, and then in either African or in tongues.  She told me i would be healed and told me to be well.  i said “you too”.  Right before this, as we were pulling into the parking lot, i was talking about a dream i had the night before about how i was having opposition in the city while trying to get the movie i’m writing—“The Merrimack”—out to the public (which i haven’t even tried to do yet).  The overall outcome was that a brother in Christ, whose older brother shared the same name as myself, who passed away some years ago, and whom i haven’t been in contact with for years, told me basically to be the soldier that i am…

Soldier for the Lord that is.

 

Seems like every time there’s a discussion about God, no matter who i’m with, people think God is about religion.  i’m so sick’a this misconception, ‘cause if they only knew the Truth—that religion is man-made, but man is God-made—that God is above everything, and more powerful than anything, and that He sent His only begotten Son Jesus (“son” not in a human sense of the term) not to bring religion (which only causes division between sects), but to represent the Truth—that God is Love and Truth.  Jesus the Christ (Messiah—our Saviour)—God in Man (Son of God, Son of Man)—spiritual Provider.  My homeboy was tellin’ me how him and his boy gave some guy some Ramen noodles ‘cause he was hungry and told him “God bless”…

i said “that’s good lookin’ out, that’s love, that’s God right there.”