140 pounds steady arms thin, legs long beard coming in nicely burnt up clothes & blacked up snow our fingers up in signs children abducted for show no definitions read no questions asked thugs on the block cause our contrast cancer cures no mental illness exists we wander the streets throwing fists. myself quiet religion instilled right parents slaved to a system that never gave victim of trouble my babe muffled my old pops preached A man I am expiration and fate Only a real man can. cancellation came left too early stranded questions zero cents to my name no children & no game only needles & poor aim I only detest them. The real men I mean. What do they want from me? Suits buttoned, nothing less than a Mercedes They read their bank account savings As if long letters to their washed-up ladies. maybe I have made myself moving from joint to joint Messed up mind Blacked up pieces, miseries & illusions Know thyself & know thy temper I only yelled at her because I caught her sneaking out the back again attempting to fly naked and chained. How come she didn’t look up to the sky? I only yelled at her because the rent is so high and the kids were crying in the back with sweat dripping down their bellies. I only shot him because I caught him banging the tables and filth making only abandoned children suffer. How come he didn’t control his desire? I only killed him because the sky was so dark and my veins were so plump and the gashes on my back were crying with blood dripping down my spine. I only wanted to be a real man. But the system played me. My mama told me to grow a pair and then call a decree She ain’t believe in no prophecy Only a real man does what he can. Does the best with what he’s got. Doesn’t get stuck on what he cannot. My mama was smarter than me and my daddy That’s why they took her first. Do you know my face, structure, or tale? I warn you. Before you come tell me to be a real man. Ask … What makes you one? -jt
“Peace of Mind” by Joyce Nevaquaya Harris; sold for $2,000.00
The Junction Journal 