*Narrow your vision to the size of a boxcar. 40 feet long, 10 feet high ceilings.

*It holds only up to 20 people.

*What is happening on board?

*Add sights, smells, tastes, touch, and other ambience.

You'll have a writing of somesort in no time....



Indulge.
________________________________________
"With peace and love in my lungs,
I hold my breath until the Poet returns."

--Boxcarboys

I was posted in the back, backpacks and tilted hats mixed and mingled
with one another. There was a single cat spittin free from his Silverdome-
eight to ten brothas, bouncing to vibrating headphones.
The waitress brought me my Jack as I watched my lotus, the Epiphany
discuss politics with Focus and Inkwell when I caught the smell.
Sometimes you can just tell, and I knew tonight was going to be something to write home about.
Peeped this stout black cat with this skinny white dude, inhale and let loose
smoke from a tightly rolled spliff, as they headed to the caboose.
I was about to get up when the car started to erupt....

"Ladies and Gentlemen, can I have you attention.
As your program may have mentioned, we have a very special guest tonight.
Lets welcome our artist to the stage. Give it up right!!"


(please continue)
________________________________________
"With peace and love in my lungs,
I hold my breath until the Poet returns."

--Boxcarboys

DECEPTION.............

Yo,
thanks for the intro/
lights, all together lets huddle 'round the mic/
slight yall dispite, just for spite/
hush, it's Miller time/
COPS syndicated, its the realest rhymes heard ever/
GAME

rip
tap
rattle
scrap

rain
was the first lullaby....

thoughts stream down the pane
of my consciousness
as the rain scats down my window

the power of motherhood is a secret kept until
you experience it for yourself...

she told me that but it was meaningless at that juncture of
my awareness
15- everything is meaningless then

i bend down to smell your hair, the newness of your skin and capture this moment
on the digital camera of my cornea

beautiful and somber
like a field in winter

the train gently tosses us back and forth

rock a bye baby in the train car
the bough unfortunatley breaks for all of us
sometime

mine was breaking as we sit
four steel walls
closing in

tracks and wheels
hurling us closer to
truth

I never told her how i remember
her lullabies
her patience
and the backwards dinner days (sundaes came first)

how being a mother now
made me understand
the murkiness of my adolescence
from a different perspective

hers.

condensation caressed my face
just like your hands used to
as i wrote on the window

i understand now.
i love you, mom



>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Inspire the desire...
-Box Car Boys

I guess my advice wasn't needed. you had already posted this here. nEVER UNDERESTIMATE A WRITER. they cannot be estimated. keep shininig!

Darkness,
I feel so lonely even though I know people are all around
every so often I catch the glimmer in a young girls eyes
from the moon comming through a crack in the walls
theres a little boy in the distance shivering from the cold..
he can't be more then a few feet from me but
I can't find him
he's just as lost as I am
the smell is undescribable
a mix of some cheap cologn and liquer's I wouldn't dare to taste

Katrina

She came in with a whirlwind of volcab…
Made moms mad … flirting with the thoughts of sweeping away baby daddy’s …
Her notes rang …hi bluffs from swaying trees …
As she rattled the leaves … exhaled to scatter the seas … over the embankments … with no music she spoke to the rhythm of the train … clicks …and clacks … as we made our way up the tracks …

Notes Rolled and swayed … with motion of the moving train …to mix the cologne sprayed ...with the fruity lotions spread …over arms and legs … to sweetly intoxicate … the situation … as the water rush to fill the cabin … when the bridge gave way … to water of the lake …..

Down in the delta.

*Narrow your vision to the size of a boxcar.
40 feet long, 10 feet high ceilings.
*It holds only up to 20 people.
*What is happening on board?
*Add sights, smells, tastes, touch, and other ambience...



Railways run roughshod by
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>Steel wheels squealing
Giving me that feeling of...

(("Where ever we're going, we're getting there fast."))
A stark stretch from the past trip that seemed to last forever.

Now, it's 'Now', and soon to be... 'When'
I drop hot poems n' flows in this boxcar of friends (silently, sshhh!)
Bending you're ear, while looking for cheers, in my imagination,shhhh!


sippin on Sangria while we agreein' upon the idea
to invite others to enjoy the delight of a symposium thea...

Ideas Terrific, no need to get specific,
Folks 'uppin' here are having FUN! Never Bored.

((JUM JUM CHOO CHOO!!))

SSssuuuuuuuuuuuuUUU!

ALL ABOARD!!!!

Damn, we played through another stop,
n' got more folks adding to the train.
Painfully stashed away, my words RUN insane to DMC

*Narrow your vision to the size of a boxcar.
40 feet long, 10 feet high ceilings.
*It holds only up to 20 people.
*What is happening on board?
*Add sights, smells, tastes, touch, and other ambience...



Railways run roughshod by
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>Steel wheels squealing
Giving me that feeling of...

(("Where ever we're going, we're getting there fast."))
A stark stretch from the past trip that seemed to last forever.

Now, it's 'Now', and soon to be... 'When'
I drop hot poems n' flows in this boxcar of friends (silently, sshhh!)
Bending you're ear, while looking for cheers, in my imagination,shhhh!


sippin on Sangria while we agreein' upon the idea
to invite others to enjoy the delight of a symposium thea...

Ideas Terrific, no need to get specific,
Folks 'uppin' here are having FUN!
Never Bored.

((JUM JUM CHOO CHOO!!))

SSssuuuuuuuuuuuuUUU!

ALL ABOARD!!!!

Damn, we played through another stop,
n' got more folks adding to the train.
Painfully stashed away, my words RUN insane to DMC
n' Suddenly theres a Dj...

There's a DJ makin replays of fly tracks while we sit back
Enjoying the rushing scenery of beautiful greenerys
Delighting the eyes as the scent of the pines hits our noses
A door closes as newcomers come thru with that one, two
This train is a place I come home to
Like that McKnight joint on point with his crooning melodies
sellin me felonies for being that fly, my mental elevation's so high
that my sighs could tickle God's cheeks but here I speak
trying to work this flow, trying to be good to go on my end of being
a Boxcar Babe, trying to make my rhymes stick so my words can never fade...


<===== ain't she cute as a button??

I got my ticket
Thru the "Boxcar Babe" network
Cuz she got da "hook~UP"
Knew just how ta get work
Now I float thru boxcars
Servin' food 4 thought refreshment
Meals on Wheels -- Congeals
With socializing deals
Heads sippin, tokin' & smokin'
(((Chillin')))
While tryna get hella bent
What an AWESOME event!!!
The "Spoken Word" Boxcar is full to capacity
Dude had the audacity to "try" and break shit ^UP^
We threw his ass off the train
Poor, ig'nant lil' pup -- :P
I guess he didn't know how we roll on this tight Boxcar venture

Chooo Choooooooooo


Keep It Rollin' ...

Music was hot like sugarblades,
liquor flowing at just the right speed.

Midnight landscapes receed into oblivion
each like thoughts fading into one another.

Poems begin taggin themselves on rasberry velvet walls
invisible hands clapping to rocksteady rhythms.

Honor tapdances with my pleasure to be here with you
like pen and ink theres no better windsong than us.

I hear the whistle, Coltrane in F sharp,
Signalling we have reached another destination, or origination

Depending on the passenger.

(Choooooo Chooooo)

Keep it jum jummin!
________________________________________
"With peace and love in my lungs,
I hold my breath until the Poet returns."

--Boxcarboys

We reached another destination by inclinations
unknown to modern man
Gave Photo a hand as we waited
for more passengers to come on up
she gave me the hook-up as we both shared a ((puff))
Smokin yet cloaking our devious actions gaining satisfaction
bringing our consciousness so high touching skies and stars overhead
I went up into the bathroom coed and saw sistahs really at it
I wasn't about it so I let myself on out but no doubt
I wanted some action of my own looked for brothas with bone
but they were already with someone else...



<===== ain't my sis as cute as a button??

making beds and walking on roof tops
grabbing mic to drop the helping hand
stand plumming to doom day playing
in the flames of family growth then
i grip throat wit a rope and woke
the f--k up peace i'm out---lone wolf rides alone---lamo
ha ha ah ha ha!

If any one man made it, why wouldn't he?
They were all worthy... of meeting the King
The Lord, the Savior, and the justice he brings
And right then he acknowledged the sting
of 38 eyes glaring against this mortal supreme
20 men emprisoned in this gas-chamber on wheels
Infinite hate, suspended in time, they don't know how it feels
It's been this way for 30 days- no water, no meals
But in this hostile knot, there was no frays, no kills
And through the lack of nutrition, they grew no weaker
If this were the real... life of ghetto children, then ofcourse they'd steal
But the impoverised couldn't afford a ticket to the destination
Recreation of lies took over, bitter, yet held together a nation
There was a litter, of Allie-Cats born into starvation
Scraggled cats actin like wildcats, known not for their peaceful acts

But nah... in their mind was a hate they thought divine
Not forge the check, respect the line
Of money they never crossed, if they were born into a loss
They'd never win
But then again, if you were poor, then were you forced to Sin?
But only the richest can afford, the alcohol of course...
But then they retort, "Yeah but they STEAL for theirs
If they so poor, how you think they got those Airs?"

she gently taps her left foot and huddles close to it's familiar sound

sara can't see one inch in front of her but she can smell the confusion of other bodies standing around

the darkness is thick

soft and thick like black paint dripping from her eyelashes

no one has uttered a word since whatever they were standing in shot upwards two minutes ago

a trickling hum crashes through the silence

it smells like sweat and rosewater

sara strains to hear

"cumking forst tu karee meee hovne"

she can't understand

with closed eyes, she softly prays
all the while wishing that she took those english classes in college.

why why do i come around
i found reasons why why so i
like david sound the trumpet
hollaring i made it throwing
spit balls threw straws killing
the giant watching him fall
down the bean stalk as freedom's
stock goes threw the roof of
politics and catholics priest
let go the heart of joan of arc
darkness runs away from the cave
i made my own bed i shaved my own legs
but my eyes hates my vision weeping
set ups to be hooked up but my feet
never gave up in snow rain of flames
buried in shame and 2 shirts 3 pant's
i dance 5 years drop 265 tears until
the inkwell was dry then i died and
got serious believeing i can do this
not on broken wishes for money just
working on building the land of milk and honey
cheerios and bee stings i rize a chetto fen
dropping the herbs i now you herd bin
to rehab wit just a pin army boot camp
and a food stamp turning me into a vampire
of the spiritual world as i suck
soul like these nigga's go down and suck hoes
rizzo rose from the tomb but i told him
thers no room in this life i lead
as i proceed wit the freaky keystyle
rocking the crowd wit vile vital vitol
rekindling life-real nice peeps keep doing
yall thing-out

want some new blood up in this...


<===== I had no words for this but wow...

she wonders if anyone can smell the lost baby
little blood under her fingernails,
where she, alone, drug the brat out by
the sides of its body
pulling on its form
& lying him
dead in front of her.
she cleaned up well enuff
spat into various cloths
wiping away traces of the too-soon son

also knowing he wld be looking for them; she and this dead boy
so, she buried the rest of the booty inside
the child's throat


patted the earth and shook
leaves to and fro
as an earnest marker

now, she wonders if they can smell
the lost baby
as she glazes over children huddled in a corner
throwing rocks btwn each other
excited to experience each roar of the train
every turn is a new giggle
every choo a reason for imitation

the hanging rouge in the air
too much she thought; too much
near her
she recognizes the creak of an old book's pages being turned
the pissy moldy smell of pages unopened long
deliberately,
she fits herself into her corner
and attempts to remove the blood, left over, from her nails

Question was:
Why are white women afraid of black women?
I Dunno.
Could be, like most humans,
they are afraid of the strength of others.

No one could hold the earth,
moon,
and stars together like Nefertiti could.

Or maybe because their wisdom is their strength
and that is what is oddly attractive,
and one cant be odd and strong and wise...Like you, right?

Question was:
Why do black women dislike white women so much?
I Dunno.
Could be, like most humans,
they are afraid of the simiarities they have with someone so different

Who could squander the
the abolishionist spirit of Venus
on a cold night?

Or maybe its because white women
get wronged too, get played too,
get passed over because they are actually smart... too

Just like all women do.

(But I dunno, never could figure why women do a damn thing they do to tell you the truth. Lmao!)

________________________________________
"With peace and love in my lungs,
I hold my breath until the Poet returns."

--Boxcarboys

the hanging rouge in the air
too much she thought; too much
near her
she recognizes the creak of an old book being opened
the pissy moldy smell of pages long unopened
deliberately,
she fits herself into her corner
and attempts to remove the blood, left over, from her nails

The conductor has rung out his usual announcement
"All aboard!!?"
I am, but not fully comfortable yet.
As the chuga-chuga of the huge steel wheels take me towards my destination
i ponder
Wondering with my first real anylitical observation of the crowd
why does this modern train
hold such a palpable demonstration of that old-time-religion.
No
Not the one that hums and beats foot to hard wood
fanning an overmade-up face
but the underlying bad news
of the Good Ol' Boy.
How does transportation whisper about a situation
occupation
opression
and ultimately segregation?
The whites carelessly read they're "Business Reports"
Holding their heads at no particular level
yet still exuding some air
While the "others" look on contemplating
how to hold their heads in that same nonparticular way
I frown at the absence of vehicle and suit amongst "the others"
Until
the sun gleams across my figure
highlighting my hands neatly draped across my jeaned lap
accentuating their blackness
at that moment
I notice the crick in my neck
from trying to position my head correctly
.
.
.
For I too am on this train

scrapin the tinge of tomorrows cinder and ashe, began to be habit forming for me.
My skin held the dark coal litter-marks, tightly,
waning in the autumn light peering through the window.

I see the "others"
they look just like me,
as they take beautiful grimm faces and dapper
minstrel smiles in front of their teeth
of malcontent.

A slender jane approached my portion of the boxcar
and laid her feelings down as a thinly
worn out quilt, giving her some comfort on the dusty floor.

She took out a real piece of inspiration
and placed it neatly on her fork and spied
brick-brown eyes around the room

She locked eyes with mine like railcars,
speeding to everywhere, no-time soon
and gestured for me to take a bite
of inspiration,

It tasted like my mommas meatloaf

I wiped my, now full soul, and asked this Jane girl
"Where do we go from here?" and if she knew if the
"Others" like us were coming too...

She said we'll stop when we get there,
but we aint stoppin no time soon.



Peace in, instead of Peace out

________________________________________
"With peace and love in my lungs,
I hold my breath until the Poet returns."

--Boxcarboys

>She said we'll stop when we get there,
>but we aint stoppin no time soon.


So we continue...
my eyes tightening the lock of his
straining not to transfer my transperant soul
I stretch
not simply to release the crick
but to casually undo the fasten-ation
of our stares
The "Business Report" is boring
but the inspiration stil tastes good.
my mouth waters for another bite
yet I am hesitent to feed into the
source of my feast.
He is still watching
not his eyes
but soul
his spirit lying in wait for mine to respond
both of us pen in hand
neither wanting to elude to our impatience
hearts
beat
to the rhythm of the wheels
As my pen terminates it's protest,
finally able to speak to it's long withheld beloved
dancing in a mad tango of adjectives and verbs
connecting indirectly to that observant spirit across the isle
the train stops
only for a moment but breaks the dance that is this piece.
I look up
as abruptly as the motion ended
almost in an ironic tandem,
the man has gone
relinquishing me back to reality
I am annoyingly releaved
a puff of smoke
as the exhaust lends a much needed release into the atmosphere

but it's not the end of the ride...

tag you're it.

Moving... was easy for me, hip and jive as usual,
so I relocated my battered soul next to the
window.

My earth scout told me about this,
about hemmoraging treelines
with leaves that flutter crisply in the air.
Mountain sides that hide Red Suns and Blue Stars.
And if I stayed and looked all night long
I may catch the most beautiful of them all...

The Aurora.

I let my stress and anger receed into the shimmering landscapes.
The engine of the train soon tucked itself away for a moments nap
or possibly in the stare of that Jane girl.
So many questions leapt from her
expressionless face.

Her belly full.
mine still empty.

I'm on a trek to forever with my people.
I love to love
yet being helpless and romantic
leaves a man
bitter and lonely

like a vacant train station.

She had her inspiration....
I carry on still searching for mine.

tag!
________________________________________
"With peace and love in my lungs,
I hold my breath until the Poet returns."

--Boxcarboys

I can smell it...
the crued stentch of a faint memory
the waning reminance of human life
like nostalgic memories of cartoon characters
floating behind the seduction of a stream of scented smoke
i am possesed by this invisible hint
Without measure of compitence
I arise from my seat
pretending not to casually look for my kindred spirit amongst the crowd-
while en route to finding the employer of my suddenly vigilant mission
yet I see him
my minds eye has a sharp periferal
And as we dangerously sway to the left
from a quick turn and disconnection of track to wheel,
the steel forms re-align
and tie he and I back together.
the smell permeates my existance
And I cannot be distracted by soul-food again
Another prescence piggy-backs my inspiration
And causes me to stop searching
she coyly retreats to the discomfort of the
"Business Pages"
noticing me being unnoticably noticed by the man in the window seat across from her
what is black and white and red all over?
I question...

ur it!
___________
Please keep shining this train should undoubtably be traveling straight for the archives.

in Genious I was bringing in some others' characters, but anyone is welcome to add on to the story. this is a classic.

The City turned out by a pair of feet called quiet storm

10 minutes to departure

he dressed the way she loves him
bald head, carmel complexion,
3 piercings in both lobes
dressed in...black.and red with a white leather carrying case
versace dreamer entrances the city
young man stood in a pair of black cole hanns
impatiently waiting...
taxi's passin him up..
where's dc cab when u need em....he's thinkin

chico passed him ignoring the call
ahmir....splashed him...and laughed

greensleeves is laughin...
still playin sayin..
"break the sound barrier"
cute lonely brooklynite
is still waitin..
with anticipation
fossil is tickin...
time is passin....
ears are ringin
he's still in detroit on Woodward and congress

runnin like action jackson
cut through traffic like the juice
it's 9-minutes...newsflash...
carmen harlan on news 4 exclusive
a blur is on the loose
and no this is no Tom Cruise

8 minutes
i take the center lanes
my lungs is expandin...burnin
the mucous membrane is gatherin
my heart is poundin the rich thick
rudiments in sync with greensleeves

7 minutes
amtrak train arrives....the desk attendant orders the crowd on deck
shows 20 minus one familiar face....
all i'm thinkin..is brooklyn...
gotta get there
gotta be there...
i gotta have it...
she's gotta say yes
the cabs are in sight
up 3 street traffic lights
i dig deeper into the concrete;crouch lower...
Attendant Sam sez....it' ain't time yet...we missin mah man..
he tells the conductor....5 minutes...he'll be here..

6 minutes
ahmir got npr radio listenin to daily reports
caldean music ablaze...eatin falaffel king
mouth full looks up...eyes suddenly and screams

chico
is on the phone screamin with maria..and screams...oh shit baby i gotta go as the storm follows the black light passing and engulfing him


5 minutes
the new police chief got the k-9 unit, MP, and gang squad on patrol
doppler radar picked up a new system...called it a hurricane in the midwest....viper couldn't catch him....Hip Hop Mayor couldn't call it...The snipers sittin mouted up high...mr bad boy position...
fat cat chief on loud speaker shoulda been away on a trip fishin'
too late grabbed his cross for in 2 wishin
the next 10 seconds away,

4 minutes.....
cnn got the feed, a news chopper
above...i'm breakin...news...i'm breakin..the barrier
i'm bustin..loose...like...Rick James B@#$!
tearin the city apart.
meanwhile on the train..the passengers get restless...wonderin' what's the commotion..

3 minutes....
i'm gettin winded...my legs are gettin heavier...
not quite as springy as 10 years ago...i guess 27 is gettin me
2nd and 3rd wind..where are you?.....the crisp autumn air is keepin me cool..i see the train....i ease up....

2 minutes....10 seconds
i morph down.....run through the corridors...
drop my ticket and the ring...i stop....
as the ring teeters towards the drain...
i try to leap..but my hamstrings pull in pain
falling in desperation....i lost the ticket..but got the ring

2 minutes 30 seconds....
conductor screams.....all aboard
i make my plight up the flight of stairs..
with no ticket....

Sam the attendant...screams my name in
amazement because today i was runnin'
not like forrest gump...
grindin'..oh hell yeah...hump the grinder....
awesome runnin boy...nigga ran for redemption...

I turned the city out.....for a ticket to brooklyn...
a ring and proposal with the cute brooklyn girl name all over it..


I take a seat by the window; winded
got mah 5 piece and 2waffles..
no not roscoes but SiPhO's

Amtrak Attendant with the 2buck quick weave
said.."Excuse me, but you belong in coach.. you ghetto"
i said..
"nah..i'm blackfoot and african american;
make friends with mr pressin comb...looks like
we both got business affairs to handle"

she smacked her lips and
took my new ticket....it said brooklyn, NY
she asked...what's in brooklyn.....
I said...LOVE

What's black, and white and red all over....
he's sitting and watching you...

The perfect storm... has winded her step
she doesnt understand why he asked her to meet him this way.
He has a key she thought
and some brownstones are easily opened any way.
Breeze blows
waving the pressed not permed flow of ebony
in the direction of passion
she waits with doey eyes
and perfectly pursed lips
she waits
though she too has just returned to Brooklyn for this life
this meeting
she feels 100 years at home in the warmth of it's filth.
hands sheilded by seven jeaned pockets
cropped, slightly out of style ski jacket
accentuating her tiny, bruised waist.
she is small
but her size lends no hint of the life she has lived and left
ten years since high school
five since low life
three hours since she had exited that boxcar
wounded and empty
No one except the slender object of her seatmates' attention
had recognized her angst.
The woman was in tune with her secret
which is except for her fingernails
she thought was thoroughly concealed
luckily she was one of the earlier stops on the train
or the woman's intuition would have surely unveiled her sorrows
yes, she was headed for Brooklyn,
but Philidelphia helped her escape the reality of her error
and three buses later reach the platform
in which she would pretend she had just descended from
A salty glaze of dispair and shame
slides over her eyes
as she notices a huffed recognizable figure in the distance
she trembles with familiar anxiety
Knowing her welcoming smile is fraudulent
not for lack of happiness,
but for strife of intent...

>

the eclispe is moving away....
the sky once purple is blue again
and the red tunnel clouds have lifted white...again
I stare out the window...old school with the
5 piece from big daddy and a bottle of franks...
apple butter my waffles....yeah i'm old world

my mind shifts back to.....the cute brooklynite
a reunion in some sorts...
a surprise in many others.
i got means and a purpose...
This ring..this..one thing...
conviction....no words..just..conviction.
that is all i need right?...faith...conviction...

She had these eyes...round..deep..brown..windows..
they searched through you like the vibe of roy ayers..
she knew the half truths and white lies..
before they came out my mouth
she would put one finger..to my lips..shut

And say softly
I trust the person..
but never the devil inside...
now look me in the eye and let me inside....
she said love is patient...
i must have worked it thin..
because one day..she was gone...

old man Frankie...said
stop messin around with the L-o-v-e
stubborn and hardheaded
i took it for granted...

and now..

i got questions....

a passenger comes up...he was ticket #9 in line
he sat down in the vacant seat next to me..
asked for a piece of chicken...
i asked for what price?

"brotherhood" he said,

dead giveaway tat on the shoulder..
i knew it was ant from the old hood
history rich like nyggas in the wood..

2 paths split apart...in 9'6
ore-ire in line..
focus is a live wire
i gave up the desires & temptations
for a different kind of fire that burn

so in turn,

ant stayed on the block
pistol poppin, dough choppin
grand hustlin' lookin for the pleasures of
the fast paced trife life...the infamous

Shiny black piece in his waist..
nervous tick in his neck
he ate quick
sights fixed on the silver briefcase
handcuffed to his south paw..
as he ate with his right
fast talkin...
small talk not enough depth for catchup..

man 2 man urban confessions...
soul revelations
brief encounters of the 2 brothers

no kids, no wife..
i confess...showed the ring
as if it was secret, his eyes widened..
he asked for a name...i said...

Mecca

he shook

he asked...
"Brown Sugar huh?"

I'm like..."nah playa..better"

simply put....

she is Love...she is truth...

at least..when i last saw H.E.R

Slowly each eye lid broke its seal and surveyed the surroundings.
mingling people filtering into now empty seats and benches
The soft grind of the tonage of steel and hope remixed itself
with the blaring of the trains horn.
I breathed evenly as if deciding whether to inhale my surroundings or to venture back into the warm lull of my dreaming.
Scanning the interior of the tram I felt an odd emptiness.

She was gone.

The "Business Pages" were sitting next to me
whispering of shareholders and corporate alliances and boardroom takeovers,
Nauseating me.
She must have gotten tired of it too.
Curiosity filled me gently, where had she gone?
Another boxcar?
Possibly

I looked at the now moving horizon
playing my little game of placement markers.
Modern buildings, surrounding the epicenter,
a expansive plaza flanked by a history I do not recognize
but have been taught all too well...

We were in Philadelphia.
Liberty, Eagles, and Cheesesteaks rambled their way into the air
spray painted onto limestone mosaics,
rising out of alleyway kitchens
and whoring itself in courtroom boundaries.

Did she get out here? Does this place peak her
wonder and bewilderment?
This abolitionist refuge?
This sinister outcrop of USA INC.
overshadowing poverty and late night Mickeys.
Where is this woman with the nutmeg skin headed?

The train hurtled itself faster against the aging matter of Time,
a meloncholy lullaby coaxing me off into a distance.
My hand touched the "Business Pages"
conveniently placed beside me.

I saw the hand written riddle above the Stock Report
"What is black and white and red all over"

A stoic chuckle lodged itself in my throat.

Shame my dear, I believe its Shame.





________________________________________
"With peace and love in my lungs,
I hold my breath until the Poet returns."

--Boxcarboys

My box is white inside. All white. It is cold. You can see your breath when you talk. There is one door. It changes sides. What everside of the box you are on, the door is on the opposite side.It is bright almost blinding. Pure white. The people are pale and dressed in dark clothing.
Let's begin:

Well, now
this is easy
40 feet long you say?
easy..
considering the size of the box I live in now
sights and sounds?
my voice, over and over again
some tiny
some loud
all around me
like a madwoman
flashes of memories
like movie screens
flashing back and forth
flickering
8mm
quiet then loud
smells?
sex
its all I smell now
everywhere
this box is so long
like a maze
but without the twists and turns
or dead ends
I wonder if this is insanity
this box
What is insanity?
Webster's says"
an act that is very foolish, repeated many times
when the outcome of such act is guaranteed the same."
Like walking back and forth in this box?
I AM TALKING OUT LOUD IN HERE!!
In case anyone was listening outside
NO I AM NOT MAD!
Just exploring my box
I explored my box the other day
Yes that box.
why, so crass you say?
it took the edge off.
off?
well this box for one...
its the first day in here...
or is it the second?
no..its my anniversary!
I havent' even made it to the other side yet
want to come see?
"Hello"
"Yes. The weather is quite nice today"
I think? I wouldn't know.
( whispers)I have to be polite to the people in here
they're in their own boxes, in my box
some of them don't know(sshhh!)
{big echo} THE ECHO IS QUITE LOVELY!!
because my voice is very soft outside this box...
Can you smell that?
its like...
what is smells like before it snows
when its cold and you smell wood burning, the cold
the
winter comming...
in the corner there, is a fire burning
do you see it?
who is that by the fire?
nevermind...
I have never seen a fire like that?
like what?
sorry, forgot you were following me...
with no heat. See...{puts hand in fire} Its so hot
its cold...no pain
come along...
10 foot high ceilings?
It feels a little crampt, a little tight
I should crawl on the floor
I haven't had the baby dreams lately?
What baby dreams? see the pictures? {flickers of baby pictures, in the shapes of butterflies, fly by, echos of baby gurggles follow}
I think the box was too small to fit them all in
all of the babies
Maybe that's why I'm crawling? Is it bothering you? The ceiling, I mean? I gets lower on this side.
Is the floor on a slope to you?
A tilt?
Really? I haven't noticed..
Lucky Im not high...that would really be trippy
two headed dogs..
silly to be afraid. It can't help having two heads.
level headed now...Because I'm sober, that is
I know, I know..keep up.
i like to make ooo's with my breath{ takes a deep breath in and out to make foggy o's}
try it..
Can't?
hmmm?acid? Oh you mean sour.
Yes, I suppose it does...
vomit?
its from the rocking{ the box begins to tilt back and forth}
just go with it.... It will pass
....soon.
I dream of the ocean when it begins...
there you go.. {the box begins to fill with water}
feel better now?
its the salt. It makes you feel less queezzy...
{the water is knee high, a loud heart beat is heard through out the box}
it won't fill up all the way
don't be frightened
the ocean.. hear it?
can you hear it too....
close your eyes...
feel better?....

not finished yet

P.S. the level of creativity in this small box is making my soul sing... I see the ocean and our insanities are swimming kindred.

Now back to those others...

Yes Jane did..
follow her that is
she took on the demeanor
of the man in the corner spewing the indecipherable babble
determined insanity
Philedelphia was obviously not her stop
for before she noticed her muse
gathering her small yellow puff,
she had not recognized the familiarity
of her cheesesteaked surroundings

Sarah had become Mecca
the escape
the mission
the new hope
the chocolate balls
that were eyes
shifted into the furthest corners of their sockets
looking for an escape from the hovering prescence of truth
with swift grace she danced with the uneven motions of the train
racing for an open door
a chance for freedom from her transgressions
a detour from truth to light
Brooklyn
that would have been her daughters name if not for...
nevermind
the running distracted her thought
luckily
she was unaware of the chase of truth
that she was being pursued.

Jane slid her thin frame between the closing glass
giving one last look to the possibility
of her kindred soulbrother
hoping the attendant wouldn't give him her note
until she had already gone
her eyes
slits of focused energy
sly pupils
of a fox
insistant on pursuing her prey.
In stealth
she moved as a seasoned assasin
being visibally unnoticed
racing toward confrontation
with the smell of blood on her brain
a barrn hole of her own
begging for reason
of precious disposal
invisioning the harsh scene which lended scarlet fingernails
she kept pace
four families behind her target
with children.
the first bus number was hard to predict
being that there were several greyhounds
heading north
which she knew was the direction `from the train ride
plus,
are not THE OTHERS
always headed north?
"route 1657 to Baltimore"
had been the last statement made by the
attractive Mexican ticket woman
selling the small bubble-coated lady a ticket
Jane knew her window was short
so she conjured a fictional tale
that would have made Aesop proud
gaining her a free ticket on bus 1657
she followed suit for the next three routes
through the sweet and not so sweet smelling stations
of cities on her way to Brooklyn
(she discovered was the destination on the third bus through evesgropping)
decidably far off of her original track.
Little aborter walked fast
and Jane, though frail and not that old
had a grandmother's disposition
and smoker's lungs.
upon reaching the crisp New York air
Jane gagged at it's starling stench
startling because it was unexplicably welcoming
although foul.
denying rest as a gift to her pursuit,
Janes heavy, deep draws for air
gained some unwanted attention amongst other patrons
luckily none of which were her wearing a yellow coat.
the station wall however, offered it's side for a brief recovery
and the chaser oblidged.
Limping toward the beckoning sunshine
that highlighted the end of her journey
in all of her seemingly innocent beauty
and glorious pain
Jane and Mecca met eyes
....
and then what happens?

He sits in the corner and puts his hands to his face. He is alone.
Pacing the boxcar after a number of thoughts, he again sits down
in the opposite corner. Realizing this area is no different then the last,
he paces again. He proceeds to the next two corners, trying each
individually, and comes to the same conclusion.

For a short period of time he experiences hunger pangs,
then wards them off by thinking about the trees outside.
Afterwards, he worries about family: what're they doing,
is it the same as before? What about work: who'll contact
them concerning his disappearance?

Then, he remembers he hasn’t had any time alone for awhile,
and is thankful. He thinks of all the books he hasn't read,
and all the travels planned, but never ventured.
"I had the right idea then," he says. Before long,
he develops a new understanding.

He stops thinking about the sun, his family, and if possible,
himself as well. He removes his shirt and puts his head
against the cold floor; his last thought extinguishes itself as a small,
almost unnoticeable smile. When the car was opened the next morning,
they all agreed he led a purposeful life.

it's dope as hell....

;) Keep shining!

please??? *sad puppy face*


<===== I had no words for this but wow...

Thirrrrrrrrrrrrrrd!

the car hitting corners harder then roy williams
so close, that peoples pockets i could pick em
next stop union station, but not my destination
person that i'm facing
breath worse then imagination
made me lose my concentration
a few faces look familiar
a couple was odd
blackberrys, and ipods
either they looking down at the floor
or staring at god
business suits, tim boots
your occasional sandal
engineer braking hard
don't let go of the handle
dirty leather seats
afraid to sit down
orange 70's carpet
been worn to the ground
their go you local alcholic
he had gone a couple rounds
singing like petula clark
trying to get downtown

voyage
a trip is what
i seek
hop on amtrak
i'll figure a destination
it seems
there are classics
sitting next to me
nina to the left
to the right, billi
and i hear frank zappa down a row or 2
jammin wit jerry, jimi, and the rose
damn, who knew?
while across from me luther and barry
bring harmony
and all i can think is
this train, must be heaven bound cuz
freddie and curt are across the isle
with sammy and frank s. croonin rat pack style
and even big and pac chuckle it up with wide
robust smiles
while jam master jay scratches
w-w-w-w-w-wicked and wild
left eye, huggin them
while "baby girl" hums a tune
and i understand, now
my song is gone too soon
cuz
i could have never understood then
like i do
now
honor in memory
blend with eachother
soul music

this train don't stop
-Elton John-

Keep shining! Everyone I am continually impressed.

scattering,
clammering around
unbeknownst to flattery
we blend with sounds...

like love making
and trumpets playing.
like anticipating
Mingus and his silent notes
debating.


Waiting on a train to come.
One day you'll understand
Choo Choo
Jum Jum

and tell it to your kids, my son
________________________________________
"With peace and love in my lungs,
I hold my breath until the Poet returns."

--Boxcarboys

I am an ebony and petoskey storyteller
from a time that only red clay and petrified crystals
can recall.

The first age of brilliance
is the burnt lemon horizon of daybreak
over a hot porceline mug of Kona Blend.
To this I bid you good morning.

Notations and sketches have faded
with long ago memories jotted into the margin of
one of my pre-animism notebooks, parchment journals,
or heiroglyphic graffitti tagged walls
of my childrens temples

I speak but all that traverses the atmosphere
is a mismatching current of gusts of
HI's and Lo's
masquerading as truths and lies.

Still, I yearn for the Champions of Light.
Ye that begets the knowledge that darkness
exists only in the absence of YOU.
Step forward,

Deep. You. Fly.

Put your windchimes out tonight...
Tomorrow I shall bring the gales of truth,


I'll bid good morning to you
O' Champions of the First Age.
Time to rise again.

________________________________________
"With peace and love in my lungs,
I hold my breath until the Poet returns."

--Boxcarboys

i'ma take this time to Indulge
w/the other nineteen
funk tonic potion in my canteen
on my way to a city unseen
old soul country boy
"where have you been?
2 cent pimp nigga Geronimo asks
dressed in a Troop Track suit from 88
w/ cowboy boots
Gold Rope faded
Bootsy collins revisited

i indulge into....self
close my eyes...
savor this ride
Runninn to the Phar/side
from the hellish nightmares
scars from the miscarriages
abuse leavin' me cold in the heart
ready to claim the life of strangers
vendetta against..don't care who it is

i'ma in-d
too deep...not in a j-reed sense
but the nate/mona type seed have since been
tryin to get away from the batterer's curse
from this father's father's...father
my pops is a ike
but mona's maiden is a turner
ain't that some shit?

i lit a newport but didn't inhale....
just wanted to watch the smoke...smell the smoke
see the smoke..run

like me..for...a new......Self

-endulged

How about that? ain't that somethin keen
passenger eighteen