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By Kyle Johnson
The story of my life. How could this be? Back in the place I said I would never come back to. As I lay on my bunk in deep thought I asked myself how did I get here? Let me help you understand, not the why but the who!
I was born July 23rd in 19 something(lol) in the city of Belize as far as I could remember my mother and father was separated. It wasn’t until later on in life I would realize he had another family. But as I was saying it was my mother, grandmother, older sister, and myself. We grew up in the era of outhouses, outside showers, hand-me-downs, and potato sacks for clothing. Yes, we were poor, but we weren’t aware of it! My mother did things to get by. Selling her body wasn’t one of them, but serious things. But after great failure and a scared straight moment she wanted better, so she left my sister and I in Belize to stay with our grandmother as she went to seek the American dream.
Her dream was mine and my sister nightmare. Many hungry nights, sneaking to eat butter and paying the price with not only tape worms, but ass whippings. The struggle was beyond real, but I had my sister and she was all I needed she made me feel safe. But that struggle did last for long before the one that would really change my life came into play.
In 1993, my father came and got me and my sister to join my mother, sister and brother in the states {America}. The land of opportunity. For two years I haven’t seen my mother and despite being happy I felt numb to her as well as her touch.
Do You See Me?
By Kyle Johnson
Do you see me, can you hear my voice
How do you feel my pain,nor understand my loss
Scars that cannot heal,nightmares that doesn’t end
The beginning to a tragic end.
Some people call it home
Lost souls and strays, monsters and animals predators and preys
Misguided youth doomed by permanent stays
Welcome to a world within a world were being forgotten is our every day,
Cries go unheard,drowned out by the sounds of sharpening knives,war stories and prison lies,
Musicians no longer have a song to play,jail house lawyers give false hope almost every day,
No politicians but politics at a high
You can loose your life at the strike of a kite
White and brown unite,lines dangle correspondence in the middle of the night,
Ready to love so we join pen pal sites
Solitary confinement the meeting of the minds
Judge,jury,executioner at the drop of a dime
Paper work determine rather you live or you die
One on one no longer exist,racial tension on a high
Society labels us misfits, and some are sentenced to die
Even my shadow disappear throughout the darkest of times
Commissary empty,phone calls on decline,no visitations
DAMN
This my life on the line
Years pass by and I’m missing my prime
Primal instinct,got me fighting to survive.
Mari
By Kyle Johnson
Mari,
How can I fight back these tears, for I am but
a mere thought,
as thunder beat within my chest, lost to the whispers
of your lips,
forgotten in your many journeys of life, love and everlasting.
Bombard by the rubble of your thoughts, as emotions
escape in the wind, covering your sails,
hear my cries, as my final I love you escapes into the
steam of day.
Your comfort is what I need in my time of stress.
I love you with passion and grace, but at times that isn’t
enough, holding on to what once was, stained in my
heart words do not speak like contemporary art.
I can’t imagine a day, let alone an eternity without you
near, I am but a moment lost in your treasure chest
awaiting that moment to be found.
for if I want a love divine, I need you as my guide.
Listen capture the sound, as my beating heart awaits
your love, but I know it no longer exists.
My zest for life is no longer as my loneliness fills me
with distress.
I can no longer run, but I sense you near, I love you, I love
you, as you slowly disappear.
My spirit wanders free, so now you knew in words
sincere my feelings, rare and true, they reaffirm what
should be clear. That I’m in love with you.
Where I’m From
By Kyle Johnson
I’m from the city of thirty days and thirty nights, homeless population and bum fights.
Street vendors, corner hustlers and late nights, the Hollywood sign isn’t the only thing that shines bright.
Crypto Center but it’s no crypto only crips though, where blood and cuz terms are used but we’re not kin folks.
I’m from a city where chucks hang from a street light.
Freeway Rick, Tookie Williams, Raymond Washington, Harry-O and Suge Knight.
Gangbanging at an all-time high, while education on a decline.
Boyz n da hood, menace to society is what we put on rewind, and gang related skits will leave you parked on decline.
This isn’t the home of the brave, it’s the land of the slaves,
Fatherless homes, babies raising babies and minimum wage.
A mother’s tears keep her cheeks warm, as gun shots echo through the night like a newborn.
Graduated from JJC to CCOC school dorms, prison yards where we unite, where’s the reform.
Where more than bright lights, cold winter nights are warmed up by gun fights.
To live and die in L.A is real life, where being black could get you shot on a late night.
We breed hurdle-jumpers and track stars ready set go, at the sight of unmarked cars.
I’m from the city where kids catch slugs before they catch balls.
I’m from the home of the Nokia Center, Great Western forum, where on every corner in every hood is a liquor store.
I’m from the city of Silver Satin, Orange Kool Aid, Boone’s Farm, Hoovas, Eight Trey Gangstas and Sixtys, where every young brother wanted to be like Nipsey, a product of South Central history.
Ramona’s, Master Burgers, Donny Dogs, Jim Dandys, Toms Tonto, Roscoe’s.
Welcome to where I’m from!
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