Neverland

What is love?

Love smells like the common aroma of pastelillos and orange slices

It’s bright flaming fingers from hot fries and all too often granola bar breath

Love sounds like the echoes of bouncing leather when it hits the cement before the screams after it swoosh’s through the net.

It sounds like the creaking of swings, laughing and giggles, common phrases of “you extra” “you’re breath bangs” “break check!” and “strike!”

Love looks like a different world, a world of little artists drawing comic book Picasso’s, the excited sprints of help tag and screaming conversations with no sense of inside voices.

It looks like the bond of friendship and family..

You can’t quite identify love because it has more fingerprints than the sky has stars

But that’s what love feels like, like someone steals it & my heart’s been stolen by so many Peter Pan thieves

It’s covered in hundreds of fingerprints when they took me to Neverland, because where there is love there is Joy and I found Joy in this Modern day Neverland.

Where the lost boys and girls were elementary Einstein’s and middle school conquerors.

Who daily battled captain hook’s army wanting them to stop dreaming and grow up too fast. Because when these Tinkerbell's lose their pixie dust they stop flying and when the peter pan’s  lose their shadow they don’t know who to follow.

So sometimes hooks shadow’s of deception crept in, causing Tinkerbell’s and peter pan’s to fight & causing tension b/w me and the lost boys.

But love looks like hope because when we found ourselves tied up w/ hooks rope of misunderstanding and stubbornness, the Hope of Peter Pan would set him and Tink free to save us before anyone walked the plank of surrender.

So I found love daily sailing in the ship through the city streets to this Neverland’s urban islands of Camp Grace and Camp Peace.

Love is there,

All the faces that pass through, are still framed pictures in my mind

And if each face were dusted for fingerprints they would be covered with God’s

We found love in a hopeful place

Where headphones bump, basketballs bounce, feet run, smiles shine, tears may come, but laughter echoes throughout

Love is Tony, Tat & Xavier’s sketches

The street leaders humor

Garrett’s goofyness

John’s comedic relief

Sha'rons tears n smiles

Taijan's kisses 

And the bond of family

Love is in each of you, the Tinkerbell's Peter Pan's & Lost Boys of Camp Grace & Camp Peace, look each other in the eyes and take note of the light you see.

A light of love is found in each of you so when you’re together it makes the rainbow after the storm

Winds of lies and pain will try to blow it out, so stick together and protect each other.. guarding the lights in each of you

For even though you’re different you've found a common place, this Neverland where you are family, the house of Camp Peace the house of Camp Grace, the house of God

God is in you, and if God is love, then you are love.. So What is Love? 

Love is you: Yasiria, Danielle, Hector, Naji, Randy, Bebo, Shaina, Ciara, Jose, Joseph, Javier, Iridian, Lavar, Adamiriz, Alexandria, Lemuel, Kelvin, Xavier Rivera, Giovanna, Giovanni, Kevviyonne, Shamika, Egypt, Toni, Marcos, Josh R., Chupi, Tatiana, Xavier Ruiz, Nadiah, Peanut, Tyleek, Kyle, Tyannie, Joseph, Joshua, Merv, Ashley, Kayla, Keylin, Equasia, Sapphire, Lilly, Shakeyra, Lulu, Miracle, Braheem, Anthony, Christina, Victoria, John, Gianni, Kharon, Ronald, Dashonda, Shermirah, Tyerah, William, Ajai, Hector, Quadir, Jimmira, Saprina, Tasean, Jasnasha, Jasmine, Taijan, Marionna, NayNay, Dominique, Nyelle, Marquan, Tashon, Matthew, Shamarrah, Gregory, Isaiah, Jayline, Timmere, Fabien, Leighasia, Ashton, Tatianna, Rahmir, Raken, Deshonn, Davion, Jimmyra, Natalia, Julian, Makiya, Sha'ron, Tauhid, Jahsir, Lizmarie, Michael, Janiyah, Braheem, Taheem, Divine, Adeja, Jide, Vic, Rich, Chiina, Jose, Nildaly, Dora, Garrett, Vannessa, Mike, Christine, Lisa, Brooke, Julie, Gabbi, Charleston, Mike, Delialih, Michelle, Tavy,Adam, Tianna, Tamaya, Gabby, Jasmine.

Pit Patter, Sprint

Pit patter, sprint as he barefoot races through the concrete jungle

Running past the corner store’s and outside markets, leaping across tables as if they are hurdles and the city goers are his opponents

Swift and agile, w/ battery powered legs and balloon lungs

I watch him run as if anything less would be taking away his freedom

A freedom that fills his eyes and fuels his body

Pit patter sprint past the taxi’s into the ally as he spider man crawls up the ladder

But superman powers to fly from roof to roof

Who is this? It’s like he’s drowned out the world, society and rules. In his playground these bullies don’t exist

He swings form the bridge like today fear and gravity are his playmates.

Looking at the water below w/ a grin smeared on by adrenaline

From pole to pole & wire to wire he’s made the bridge his monkey bars and on his last swing he shoots into the air like a trapeze artist, to land on the slide he’ll ride back down to the ground. Where he’ll pit patter sprint.

Then his eyes open.. surrounded by wrinkles and a grey n white mask, his superhero cape of newspaper keep him warm and his still bare feet out of battery power.

Peering over he catches me looking, he knows I’d been snooping in his dream

And with his tired grey eyes I could see the freedom deep inside so he winked with his grin smeared across his face.

Then he closed his eyes, laid back on the sidewalk of his concrete jungle to drift off to his pit patter sprint as if anything less would be taking away his freedom.

Let the Rain Fall

My Doppler radar has a signal for your storms 

So let me kiss you where the rain drops drip and let my tongue navigate the streams they leave behind

The pit patter of me and you in thunderstorms of ecstasy

A sultry drizzle moving slow, Feel it drip down your back and trickle along your chest

Or a torrential downpour let me shower over you like my body is the rain

I’ll strike you with lightning if you caress me with the clouds and carry me in the floods.

Tonight we’ll make sounds of thunder and like Zeus, you’ll be my Greek god. I will be Aphrodite your goddess of love.

Your hot breath swirls around my skin, causing my body to sway in your wind

Forming a tropical cyclone with increasing speed, a hurricane we’ll create

Let your love crash down and sweep me off my feet, I promise I can swim

But only if you jump in too, don’t worry I know CPR

I will take my lips and slowly touch them to yours

Softly breathing my oxygen to fill your lungs

And as you gasp for air, I’ll seduce the blood in your veins to wake you up right before you drown…      call me lifesaver

So let the rain fall

Street Beat

Dangling ear buds, and Nike sandals. With a dirtied swoosh because they've made this stroll to 7 eleven a million times, like it’s their default destination. So he slips them on to hug his mismatched socks

Walking to the same old door, stuck like it has sap filled hinges, he lifts up and pulls, and steps outside, down the creaky stairs onto the sidewalk where his skin is met with golden sunbeams like a mother’s kiss on the cheek, warm and comforting.

Closes eyes and breathes in, he soaks it up as if it was the last kiss he’d receive from mother sun.

The sunshine absorbs in his pores, as the golden tingle spreads through his body, a simple smile results upon his face.

A relaxed heartbeat sounds in his ear, he accompanies it by slipping in the ear buds and head bobbs to the beat

With a new piece of gum he blows a bubble and repeats.. cause some childhood habits never retire

Yawning reaching skyward with muscles flexing and extending he stretches like a bear out of hibernation and sighs into his morning trek

“Draaag draaag”, the sound his sandals make, a sleepy walk creates a street beat when it accompanies the “Rat tat tat tat” of an old chevy starting and the “bwoop bwoop” of a cop car..

Grinning  he takes his headphones out and bobs to this street beat, “Draaag draaag, a rat tat tat tat bwoop bwoop!”

A swift rush of running kids passes by “thap thap thap thap” n a skateboarder kick flip lands “whik pt” and cruises down the road as a bird flies by whistling a melodious tune “doodle doodle doop do doo”

Combining into “Thap thap thap thap, whik pt, doodle doodle doop do doo”

“Draaag draaag, a rat tat tat tat bwoop bwoop, Thap thap thap thap, whik pt, doodle doodle doop do doo” Continues the track of this city’s’ album created daily by the artists that occupy it.

Now walking out of 7eleven with a sugary slurpee to sweeten the day he “sluuurp, sluuurp”‘s it to make a street beat track for his walk home. 

In the Dark

A masquerade ball for the insecure, so turn the lights off to hide the filth and dirty deeds that I disguise in the light

The absence of light, but the abundance of evil

I can deceive you with my words and like a robot program my actions

But if you look me in my eyes you might see a glimpse of the true outline of the shadow that follows me

which is why my eyes childishly play hide n seek because we all have secrets we keep in the shadows hoping that once we hear “ready or not here I come” we’ve hidden them enough not to be found

This darkness, an invitation to the party of sin where B.O.B stands for bring your own binges

Cause since this sinning in the shadows usually happens in the dark we keep turning off the lights to get our sinful fix we find euphoric

We’ve given nighttime the reputation of a criminal cause wrongs are rarely seen in daylight

You may judge the murderers, rapists, thieves, and addicted prostitutes but you should keep your mouth closed cause in the metaphoric nighttime we all run the streets

Our tongues become weapons of choice, making us murderers with our words

 We are rapists of dignity and character, thieves of innocence. We have addictions we do in the ally way of our door locked bedrooms, and we become prostitutes with our faith

We are children of the light called to be the light of the world. But we find ourselves flipping off the light switch to join the temptations of the shadows.

Temptations that lurk in the shadows of our minds, they set traps in our weaknesses so when the lights turn off we tip toe around, walking the line until we trip on the traps set for us.

If we kept the lights on we’d be able to avoid the traps but instead we decide blindfold ourselves with foolishness

So switch off, blindfolds on, traps set.. we venture into the depths for temporary fixes. But we eventually turn the switch back on cause we’re supposed to be children of the light right?

With a hangover of guilt, we come home from the masquerade not realizing we still have on our mask of hypocrisy.

So child please turn on the light, you weren't meant to play with

Firefly Eyes

Her firefly eyes are a dull strobe glimmering in darkness. But she is hope; dreams in a city seen as a decaying skeleton, whose hope flickers like the street light flowers they’ve planted in cement flower beds

He can’t see through the fog of a city’s binges that cloud his view, he is figuratively blinded. His only guide are the beats of his heart. He is hope; dreams in a city seen as a decaying skeleton, whose hope flickers like the street light flowers they've planted in cement flower beds

Their city’s been drowned with neglect and broken promises, and when humans are ignored for so long their hearts eventually stop feeling. Causing the mind to move them numbly through life turning humans to zombies

Firefly eyes & heartbeats keep them going..  but they feel heavy. As if cement flows through their cardiovascular system, slowly trying to reach their hearts and make another lifeless zombie of lost dreamers. 

They may be too young to understand why, but they’re growing up fast enough to understand how. And so, they’ve learned to protect their innocence but lose their ignorance. To save the innocent thoughts of holding on to dreams and that life can be good. But also told, “child don’t be foolish, gain knowledge and produce action to make them happen. Make life your library, not your prison”

So still, she grows in contrast. A rose in a desert, who’s cracked ground is broken by the 5 fingered weapon triggered by alcohol that fires rounds at her family. Critically injuring the only support system she has to guide her

But in this city that defines normal, red and blue lights labeled with a badge have no power here, these streets have rulers in the dark, a city controlled by shadow kings with empty eyes but her firefly eyes still glow

And he grows. Like a tree misplaced in a forest of skyscrapers. A life surrounded by the walls he built to support him and his family. For empty questions were all his father left. The boy-like actions of a man have been replaced with the man-like actions of a boy.

A boy who signed a contract to construct walls the day his father’s footsteps left permanent marks on the path he will never follow. Because if he doesn’t let anyone in, then he won’t have to face anyone leaving. Walls that will protect his heart, the heart whose beats are the only thing leading him in the fog, like a pulmonary guide dog to protect him from potential hazards. But he has hope..

But with time they wonder.. Is hope enough? Or is it an over the counter prescription life gives them to numb the pain and reduce side effects? …  

When open doors and rocking chair porches turn to open leg cash trade and porches made beds for homeless and addicts, games of tag n lemonade stands turn into the business of drug dealing, and youth playing cops n robbers turns real life; making grave yards of empty lots decorated with liquor bottle memorials. 'Cause childhood quickly turned into a corrupt system that put them on the fast track to failure.  

But deep down they remind themselves that maybe hope is the driving force that they find to survive, an anchor for the soul. I dare you to look into her firefly eyes.. a paintbrush blend of shades of brown & green because green is the color of hope and it surrounds a pupil deep into her soul where wisdom lays and determination is sweating, to keep coals of self-worth burning. Then a glow from within will send a small illuminacy out. So when she’s in the darkness of the city of walking dead they are like fireflies to be noticed. And if you look closely you’ll see flickering lights scattered throughout, you see, there’s more than one firefly in this city..

You can see the mark of hope in his muscles, a little more rugged. Like the words are tattooed in the trapezius that cross his back, and character in his posture. Weariness in the bags under his eyes, and wings folded but ready to fly. Because those who have to fight a little harder, and face more adversity are always stronger, standing a little taller, and who’s wings will spread a little further..

His heart is his strongest muscle of all, because he needed sound system heartbeats to keep focus and drown out the distraction of shadow kings and lost dreamers.

Laying their heads down at night; with her fist clenching a small cross necklace and him sleeping with his hand gently resting on his heart.

They breathe out heavy thoughts and weighted prayers, releasing them up, being carried on angels’ wings.. Hope in the God above.

Eyes closed, where imagination holds the paintbrush responsible for the continual images painted on the canvas of dreams created on the back of their eyelids as they sleep.. Hope in their future.

Covered from head to toe with the soft sincere hug of a blanket, engulfing them with a warmth not just of their bodies but to their souls.. Hope in having comfort.

Blood steadily pumping through their body as they lay.. Every vessel, through every vein throughout every part of their being.. Hope in Life.

Every night they close their eyes, to a heartbeat lullaby and firefly nightlights.. this gives them a little bit of peace for them to rest. She is hope.. He is hope.. 

Dancer

Let the secrets roll down her arm and drip of her fingertips, each movement is her pure voice being spoken through unique expression.

A cry with each outstretched arm for sincere vulnerability in a moment when eyes clench closed and the sweat rolls down the cheek to meet heavy breaths being pushed out, dancing like it’s the only form of communication.

Letting her body talk all the way from her fingertips through the tips of her pointed toes like the roll of a pen writing cursive

Writing her own story w/ each move more meaningful than the last

Her body melts with the music, a dancer w/ genes made up of strength & grace

She leaps with elegance and runs with passion, the emotions bursting at the seams of her skin like you can feel the story her body tells.

Her skirt even ocean wave moves like it’s part of her movement, the movement of art

The wind her dancing makes is music note brail that her skin reads until it reaches the top so much so that even her hair dances

Milk and honey legs sweet and smooth mold into a savory composition

She is the definition of expression: action of manifesting a feeling, because each cell in her body is made up of rhythm, beats, musicality, and poetry in motion

Something so beautiful, if life were to lose its voice she would speak for life itself through dance