Juba DowdellWE HAD NOTHING
A Sonnet for all the Sad People
ROMANZA…..(CON TE PARTIRO)
No faith in our egg shell selves
no pork chop God that loved us.
We had nothing.
No empty friday night 40 bottles
no honey-glazed turkey Thanksgivings
no sweet soul blasting radio.
We had nothing
No patches for Wrangler holes
no bubble-bath rubber ducky fun
no Tennesse sky Lexus
no soft ear on Tuesday night
no tight rap for bomb beuty
no sugar in the bowl
no pay phones that called back.
We had nothing.
No job---just humiliation
no shoulder to lean on
no still lake rock skipping
no paper for writing
no long highway into Anywhere
We had nothing
No high freestyle sessions
no deep firecracker thoughts
no burning tears carressed away by mom
no Purple, Green, Gold
Orange, or Yellow
plenty of
Red, White, Black,
& Blue though.
We had Nothing
No Saturday 3 O' clock Kung Fu Theater
no Little Rascal sandlot
no Bugs Bunny cartoons
no pockets for lent
no cable t.v.
no football practice
long distance,
no Dutchmasters or Phillies
no oppurtunity in Jim Crow America
no Greenwich Village tuna fish
no sun on our shoulders
no penny-candy school mornings
no white gravy Chattanooga biscuits
no wild shuck & jive fandango
no Garvey, Malcolm, or Huey
no Black Revolutionary Heroes.
We had nothing.
No baking soda in the fridge
no sneaky teenage gossip
no sweet forbidden butter-scotch lust
no Magic, Doc
& Mike
no manners, etiquette or petty bourgeoisie tea spoon class
no four eyed tweed jacket professors
no blind bald prophets
no third eye revelations
no Scarface ambition
no King James Version.
no carmel-thighed high school sweetheart
no road map pointing West
no 100% cotton long johns
no dangling Jewish gold star
no starry-eyed midnight hopes.
the carnival image of ourselves
naked.....covered in sewer water
& the feeling of shame that went along with it.
A Sonnet for all the Sad People
I have been in the desert late in night
without one to hear-my cries fall through air.
Was forced to keep lonliness near and tight
I stood unfixed, with no hope for repair.
I submitted to painful memories
of myself absent, my essence stripped bear.
I have fought ghost of immortality
to only discover a mirrored wraith.
The spirit spoke, "run toward destiny!!"
still his words balanced between fear and faith.
How could I find escape, a sign, or way
When desperation won't let me be safe.
Repentence cost alot, or so they say
light shines for tommorow……..yet blinds today.
PLAYED IN THE BACKGROUND
WHEN SHE WALKED THROUGH
THE DOOR…..APOLIGENIC NOW.
……..IT WAS TOO LATE
HE WAS ALREADY RUINED.
WHAT A WASTE, A
DRUNKARD NOW.ALCOHOL IS WHAT
SEPERATED
HIM FROM HIMSELF NOW.
HE WAS LOST IN
THE PAIN
OF UNREQUINTED LOVE.
TWIRLING AND TWISTING
NAKED THROUGH THE
BARB WIRE OF WHAT HIS
LIFE HAD BECOME.
……W/NOTHING
TO PROTECT HIM.BOCELLI SANG,
CON TE PARTIROWHEN SHE BEGGED HIM BACK!!
SORRY FOR NOT
LOVING HIM,
SORRY FOR NOT
CARING LIKE HE DID.
SHE CAME BACK
SWEARING DEVOTION
ON HER KNEES,
UNCONVENTIONAL LOVE
WITH TEARS IN HER EYES,
OFFERED HER SOUL
TO HIM
……….FOVEVER.THE CIELLO BLEW
MELLOW AND DEEP BLUE……
THE CYMBLOS CLANG
AS BOCELLI SANG
CON TE PARTIRO.
PAESI CHE NON HO MAI……WAY PAST GONE HE WAS.
A CAUTIONARY TALE NOW,
OF WHAT CAN HAPPENS
WHEN
LOVE WON’T LOVE YOU BACK.
A WALKING ROT
OF HUMAN SUBMISSION.
A MAN WHO GAVE UP
ON LIFE…..ON
EVERYTHING!!SHE’D HAVE HIM
BACK ANYWAY.
ANY KIND OF WAY.
SHE NEEDED HIM
TO SAVE
HERSELF
AS HE HAD
ONCE
SO DESPERATELY NEEDED HER.
IT WAS TOO LATE.
SALVATION ONLY COMES
AROUND ONCE
AND IF YOU FAIL
YOU BECOME
WHAT HE BECAME,
………..A ROMANZA.BOCELLI SANG MAGNIFICENTLY
NO, NO, NON ESISTONO PIU
CON TE IO LI VIVRO………..HE WAS VERY
VERY DRUNK AS USUAL.
AS
HER PLEADS PUSHED
HIM TO THE WALL…..
CLEAN KNOCKED HIM
OFF HIS FEET.“IT WOULD NEVER HAPPEN
AGAIN”,
SHE PROMISED.
“PLEASE BE W/ME”,
SHE ASKED.
“I NEED YOU….
I SEE NOW”,
SHE PLEADED.
“DON’T LEAVE ME,
TAKE ME W/YOU”,
SHE OFFERED.HE HIT HIS
HEAD
IN THE DOORWAY.
SCRAMMBLED
TO HIS
KNEES.
SPARWLING PAST
HER
WARM VOICE
PEERING THROUGH
HER STEAM AURUA
HE SAW THE
TOES
HE USED TO KISS.
THEN TURNED HIS HEAD.
HIS STOMACH WIRLED
LIKE A WASH MACHINE.MOUTH DIRT DRY
HE URLED UP BILE
FROM THE BOTTOM
OF HIS ESSANCE.
IT WAS BLOOD
RED.
THEN WITH HIS
ENERGY RUSH
….HE CRAWLED PAST
THEN DOVE FOR THE DOORWAY.THE ECHOES OF LOVE WERE CALLING
….OF PLEASURE, PAIN
AND DELIVERENCE.
SALVATION WAS IN RANGE
THE HENESSEY SPILLED OVER
HE WAS DRUNK AND HE CRAWLED
BUT BOCELLI STILL SANG
CON TE PARTIRO
SU NAVI PER MARIHIS LAST BIT
HE SAVED FOR
THE LUNGE FOR THE DOOR.
THE LUNGE FOR
HIS
LIFE.HE MAKES IT
HE LIVES……HE
LIVES PAST LOVE.
HE MADE IT,
HE LIVED
PAST
LOVE.SILENCE.
SILENCE.
SILENCE
AND PEACE.
SILENCE AND PEACE
AND DEATH
SILENCE AND PEACE AND DEATH
IS ALL THAT’S
LEFT.