Invisible World

When you walk up the street
Do you ever think to greet
The junkie turned bum with the highest degree
The real hustler’s, busters walking the street
This is his home no matter how neat
It’s not
You cross the street like the block is hot or
Like walking by him gonna blow up your spot
You must have a problem
Is something wrong with his home?
Although you crossed over you still in his zone

Just say hi, hello, hey, wussup
Oh you too busy to speak to his stinking butt?
Looked at his gear
Assumed he didn’t care or gave a fuck
As you rush to daycare, bitchin’ life is tough
“Can you spare some change?”
(I don’t want to steal.)
“I’ll even have the left over from your meal.”
“I don’t get too many. Can I have a minute of your time?
“A penny would be plenty perhaps a dime?”

You stare and peep at him through the tinted windows of your jeep
As he picks the scabs of his infected feet
Stare at his clothes that are old circa I have dream speech
Matted beard smelling of soot from the heat used to warm chilly type nights
Overall look that tells you America ain’t right!

So as you walk down the street thinking, “This creep!”
Remember
You sow and you reap

o.n.e.i. 2001

What It Means To Me

Poems are like medicine for my mind,
You'll understand if you're my kind.
Poems are like a sedative deep into the night,
When I am sleep and my mind takes flight.
Poems are my salvation when I hang on the cross,
Thoughts bring me to a road to which I'm lost.
Poems are rosary beads touched with pen,
For all the times I want to give in.

Poems are my enemies of all ghosts past,
Haunting and taunting me they even laugh.
Poems are suicide letters written in despair,
When I can't feel or see an nobody out there.
Poems touch me and I touch them back,
They reflect my love even when I lack.

Poems are nothing, yes everything,
All.
Something like my final call covering in covenant
As an ole woman's shawl.
Poems are intricate small and deep,
An intimate introspection into me.

Poems are solitude for the multitude in a tube of tunnel vision,
Sharp incision definition of division
Between streets and prisons.
Poems are reminders of past inflictions with no convictions.
Never read causing repetition of mission turned purpose,
Analyzing those who hurt us.
Code name murderous.

Poems are the truth told in tone initiated with vocal moans,
Secret yet not unknown uniforms rare resided in catacombs.
Mummified for those qualified.
In silence they hide scriptures, provide elixers,
With a mixture they're a strong fixture.

Poems are a seance with spirits,
Experience varies in degrees,
Some reach in blazin', some naturally.

Poems are tickets to freedom,
A train of thought in motion, full of devotion
With a small quotient
Over standing the meaning of a poem

O.N.E.I.

copyright 2001

o.n.e.i.
copyright 2001