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Our Father

Our Father

This poem contains content that some may find offensive. I don’t want to be your hero. I was a child.I took a dozen lashes.Then stood up and said, “Fuck you.” I don’t want to be your hero. A heavy wet blanket of pain was draped over this boy’s body.From the outside he...
Don’t Talk. Don’t Feel.

Don’t Talk. Don’t Feel.

I feel it and I am going to talk about it. Bedford Stuyvesant, Brooklyn - “Bed Stuy” Bed Stuy is beating up your mother and asking you, “What are you going to do about it, punk?” Bed Stuy is looking outside onto the street and in between patches of icy, crunching...