Night Roads

This is a WIP currently being written in serial form at the link below.

Please check it out, and feel free to comment.

Be honest, but kind.

If you troll me, I will send zombie vampires to hunt you. In a novel, of course….

We all know there’s no such thing as zombie vam– (OW! Get back down there, you stinking–!)

 

http://channillo.com/series/night-roads/

True Formation

These
Black Men
proud,
determined,
tired of being
treated as less

tired of their
People being
treated as less

made a statement
took a stand
took action

See the
seriousness
in their eyes
in their demeanor

Protecting
those
who would be
brutalized

Yes, they were a hate group

They hated
oppression
police brutality
injustice

They hated
seeing children go hungry
because there wasn’t
money to feed them.

They hated
living in
neglected and
downtrodden
communities,
and didn’t wait
around for
the government
to change things

And for
all of that
they were
betrayed
infiltrated
and
destroyed

Pull up your pants,
and make
something
of your life
besides
another
tragic tale.

Weapons of the Heart

Always

at the heart of it

is a weapon

 

A kingdom’s fate

A love’s revival

A warrior’s life

A prophecy fulfilled

 

 

Always

at the heart of it

is a weapon

 

Discarded

Forgotten

Dulled

Unblooded

Uncared for

 

But a weapon

all the same

 

Waiting patiently

for a hand

to lift it

up into the light

 

to transfer its

Power

 

anew

 

Go on…

 

pick it up

and

feel its

heartbeat

pulse

in harmony

with

your own

Aren’t You Tired?

Hatred

takes

time and energy

 

Hatred

wears away

the good in us

by gradual degrees

of erosion until

you no longer

realize

you’re empty

inside

 

Hatred is

tiring to

perpetuate

 

Hatred is

tiresome to

its victims

and targets

 

Hatred

is based

on

private preferences

in a

public world.

 

 

Let us be done with

Hatred

and be about

the business

of rebuilding

the land

we now share

and each other

 

We will never

purge evil

as long as we

practice it

look the other way

when it occurs

take pictures of it

say “Glad it’s not me.

and

convince ourselves

‘it will never change

because we can’t change.”

 

Why not?

 

The Legacy of Kings

He will rise to lead

his nation

to greatness

 

He will serve

his queen and heirs

by standing firm

keeping his word

and controlling

his spirit

 

He will guide his people

through wisdom

with knowledge

only he may

possess,

for kings do

not deal in

common things

 

Secrets revealed to him

are on a higher plane,

a riskier level

 

War is ever at his gate

Strife sniffs at his table

Death watches his bed

 

and yet, his people

love and honor him

for his integrity

and fairness

 

they delight in

the peace at their borders

and their countenances

reflect his prosperity

 

Long is he revered

and with bittersweet

Mourning he will be

remembered

 

such is

the legacy of

strong, wise

kings

 

Breaking Chains

These chains

seized

my hands

and

my feet

 

Forced my eyes

to look up

at the searing sun

of my homeland

retreating as the

waves took me

to foreign, hostile

shores

 

Long did I wear them

and suffer under their weight

 

Long did I fight against them

and when they resisted me,

I fought some more

 

 

Against my flesh they

burned and chafed

and pressed me down

 

Against the stones I

slammed them

over and over

 

We fought for days

Decades

Centuries

 

And yet you do

not understand…

 

 

I was forged

into a weapon

by these chains

 

You carried me

and used me,

made me privy to

the intentions

of your heart

and the schemes of

your mind

 

 

And now

after all this fighting,

the chains are loose.

 

But if you think to bind me

again

to your service

at my life’s expense

 

You will see

that I am a

Warrior

now,

and no man’s

Slave,

 

My mind,

Unsheathed

 

My flesh,

Unbound

 

Not to your peril,

but to my own

Benefit

 

And these

broken chains

no longer have

Dominion

over me.

 

For Real (or Ode to a Conspiracy)

Author’s Note: I remember standing on the stoop of my grandmother’s brownstone in Harlem, and we watched a line of people form because the drug supply had come in. There were young men in business suits, mothers with baby carriages, and wide mix of ages. My grandmother turned to me and said, “This sure is a weak society out here.” Given the time she grew up in, and the circumstances she had to endure, I had no answer. Did our ancestors really fight so hard, so long to survive, so we could kill ourselves, and say it was someone else’s fault?

 

“The CIA put drugs in our neighborhoods.”

And we used them.

 

“The government put guns in our neighborhood.”

We used those too.

 

So let me ask you: If I put a bomb on your doorstep,

and you take it inside, and it blows up on you,

who’s responsible for the damage it caused?

 

The key to countering conspiracies is sabotage,

not compliance.

 

Break the strings

 

Become a real man

instead of a ‘real nigga’

 

And free yourself.

For real.

 

Black Magi

Black Magi

your strength is wasted,

killing over slabs of

cracked, crumbling concrete

that will outlast

the return

of your bones

to dust

 

Black Magi

your lives are wasted

when the blood

of your

slain brother

soaks your soul,

and the wails

of his mother

are your lullaby

as you look at the same

Moonlight

through the bars of your cell,

and she does the same

through her gone baby’s eyes.

 

Black Magi

your knowledge is wasted

in kilos of grams,

hidden in luxury cars,

poisoning our future,

your neighborhood,

chipping at foundations

you desperately need.

But you got yours, right?

 

Black Magi

your wealth is wasted

on basketball shoes that are

Free

to the person they’re named after,

made by slaves in other foreign lands

(you know you’re not home, right?)

 

Black Magi

Gather your belongings

Now

 

Call your loved ones to your side

Today

 

Black Magi

the stars bid you

travel far,

and one of them falls

when one of you

turns back to die

 

Black Magi

Your son has questions

only you

can answer

 

Black Magi

Your daughter

has smiles

only you

can share

 

Black Magi

Your woman

cries tears

only you

can dry

 

Black Magi

The years of

your harvest

are spent in rehab,

then just spent,

And poisoned seeds

again take root

through the husk

of what used to be

Fertile and Wise and Strong,

the shell of what used to be

You

 

Black Magi

Stop

Think

Repent

But mostly,

Stop.

Anchors Away

See the sun set on our longing

to invade a distant shore.

See the dimming of desire

to go sailing off to war.

 

Harbored safely and securely,

anchors lowered close to town,

we will speak no more of killing,

and with families settle down.

 

Though the noble masts jut proudly

in the darkened twilight sky,

Hear the cannon’s silence softly

Sing a sailor’s lullaby

 

See the sails tied to the rigging?

They’ll no longer catch the breeze.

And there’s no more pipe and jigging

On the rolling, dancing seas

 

And the whales will give birth again

to calves beneath the moon,

fearing nothing from the surface

be it net or sharp harpoon.

 

And the lighthouse keepers

get to leave their cold and noisy

towers,

for there’ll be no more ships coming

in the darkest morning hours.

 

And violent storms that claimed

the lives of those who’ve gone before

will have no plunder for their crimes

that leave this happy shore.

 

So weep no more, my lovely bride

The tide is standing still.

And I’ll face the sunset with you

Til it sinks beneath the hill.

 

 

Apocrypha

Lost in the mist, she came to my rescue.

Follow me.

It was the voice of a being

far above angels, and deep as the grave.

To where?

I followed, not knowing, but willing.

To love. To life.

The mist thickened around us.

But I’m lost. Do we go to my destination?

She turned to look at me with silver eyes.

We go, my love, to where you need to be.

I followed, not blindly, but knowingly.

I wish to leave. I’m frightened.

The mist hid her from view.

Follow, and I will comfort you.

I followed blindly.

Give me your hand.

I took her hand, and she led me…

 

Do you love me?

I followed.

How can I?

She stopped.

You simply decide.

She kissed me.

I’m lost.