maybe that is where I can find some solace–
(Lie)
if I don’t find it at the bottom of a bottle first.
But
That would be too easy;
so cliché and pointless.
Nevertheless, I do finish
my first and only drink.
Hey, who said I could have a little sway as I run,
because that is what I do–
I run!
Personal life
Personal crap
It does not matter
I should have stopped it
I doesn’t matter that the fault
“technically” lies with Buddy
I’m a speedster
I’ve stopped so many things
Why, when it mattered,
Didn’t it take?
Why wasn’t I a HERO
When I needed to be one?
I stroll the streets,
well, strolling for me.
I’ve been to so many places
and never really saw them.
I always had somewhere
I had to be:
London
Beijing
Houston
Have you heard of Johannesburg?
Yeah, I saved it from that canaried Large Largo
with a sharp NY accent and an attitudinal problem.
Not now.
I can see it all
because it does not matter.
So I go see Paris
The Eiffel Tower looks like it’s crying
as the rain runs down its eyes and its legs.
The metal tower sighs in the wind,
both carrying an inexplicable burden
and relieved of one.
It is free
It no longer has to stand for France
representing its people.
Standing for France’s creativity, freedom, and its life–
All in one.
It’s just a lonely, hollow pole.
Liberation lies in its emptiness.
I know the feeling;
I go.
I sit besides the gargantuan glass pyramid, adjacent to the Louvre.
For clarity’s sake, I stare at it;
I hope it will give me
Some answers,
But it remains
Silent.
The silence aches with minutes I don’t have left,
The minutes I could have given to the Earth
If only I had been faster!
I stroll
I blaze
I’m at Mount Kilimanjaro
It’s big!
The swell of it dwarfing me as I stare up at it from the bottom.
I run up
like Mercury to lightning
I rocket up a wall to the sky,
landing on the floor beneath it.
The top of the mountain.
Though the end of the world
Mt. Kibo still has nothing to say,
Though it could at least mumble
a prayer of fiery possibility,
but isn’t everything busy
at a crossroads
facing east, giving gospel while humming,
chanting useless syllables,
hoping for everything,
saying nothing?
I yell at Kibo to say
Something!
Anything!
as the cool clouds blow across my face,
Choking me.
Still, nothing.
No one home in the homeland;
I leave for home
Philadelphia has never been this quiet.
Philadelphia,
has NEVER been this quiet.
I love/hate it.
It is the sound of silence
before the blaring of bells at a funeral.
So I mourn
and I prepare to say the world’s eulogy
In the middle of City Line. It will read with sparks and kickback:
two bullets piercing a temple.
A period at the end of a LONG sentence.
What does the end of the world feel like?
It feels totally personal
if you were supposed to stop it.
Buddy thought she was the one
The Lady Who Didn’t Live
The Lady of silver wand and swifter feet
LIES
Nope it wasn’t them
It was me
But I was late
Because I stopped to help someone else
Someone I knew
Ha! Wow!
What did it matter?
Did it ever matter that we fought back?
Fought back against the flames that
Repeatedly scorched our community?
Does it matter that is why I fight/fought
To avenge all the Black and Brown
Bodies that were untimely laid down
That at my core
I fought and ran to raise them up
And doing so raised us all up?
Did it matter that I kept us safe,
Kept the world safe, ALIVE
To keep us ALL safe?
WELL IT FEELS THAT IT DOESN’T MATTER AT ALL,
AT ALL!
Because we’re here
Because I didn’t
Because I couldn’t.
I tap the nozzle against my temple,
a rhythm I have learned tonight.
I cock my apology.
A trash can lid clangs against the ground.
I turn to see an elderly woman struggling for her ugly purse with a huge young man.
Whack!
He cracks her across the face!
She falls but doesn’t let go of the strap.
It’s just across the street
But I’ll be too late,
Making it worse
And I was just
about to give my apology
Yet…
Clapping out of the shadows
Two portly young men
gallop into sight
One Black
One White
The Black boy is shorter and smaller
than the White one,
but the Black boy is pretty big.
So that is saying something
about the size of the White boy.
Actually their size stopped mattering
when I notice they don’t have legs,
well, human legs,
just miniature horse legs.
This makes the mugger pause
long enough to laugh
and laugh
and laugh
The older woman faints from surprise,
letting go of the purse.
The mugger stops laughing,
a pause in his breath.
That one pause is all the boys need.
The big one pulls the older lady out of the way
as fast as his little horse legs can carry him.
The other one proceeds to kick the guts loose in the mugger.
Seriously,
This kid has viciousness to his blows
that feels unfamiliar even to him,
judging by the confusion on his face
mixed with a sick stew of rage
The mugger goes down
Then he releases the purse.
The Black boy kicks him with his tiny horse legs once more.
He is going for a second stroke when the big White boy holds him back,
then pulls him into a hug that the Black boy pretends to not want
He tries to push him away, but his friend holds on.
He doesn’t try to push him a second time.
The boys rush back, after a few minutes, to tend to the grandmother on the ground.
The White boy picks her up off the ground.
The Black boy reaches down and grabs her ugly bag.
But before they leave
the boys look
at each
other;
I can’t hear what they say.
But their lips make it plain:
“We’re heroes, no matter what the hour of day, no matter the number of them.”
Racing to the equally quiet part of North Philly,
next to a doll museum
on Broad Street.
I have the same quiet inside me again.
No false Kibo in my chest,
trying to light a destroyed furnace.
I try to apologize to humanity again.
However, I see the dang groundhog’s shadow.
The same science happens again,
except this time
it is two male robbers and a much younger lady.
She looks scared but isn’t giving up her lunch money yet.
The robbers also have a tool of apology,
but they aren’t trying to apologize.
I wait forever for fate to intervene
as it had before.
Someone who wouldn’t mess up this little scene
and I can keep my train running early
to its final destination.
But oh!
Someone calls action too soon!
The young lady moves forward.
Bang!
It hits her in the shoulder.
She goes down.
Crap!
My fist crosses the first mugger’s face
before I realize I’ve dropped my gun.
My sway makes me stumble a little and the second guy
gets in a couple of good licks.
I licked my bloody lip and looked at him
Smiling,
Smiling at the end of the world
Copper can function like coffee.
I take them both down in less than four seconds.
Though the young lady is about my size,
and my upper body strength
isn’t what it used to be,
because I had stopped feeding my fervent metabolism about five hours ago,
I pick her up
and run for the nearest emergency room.
Only one is open.
Sirens are going off in my head.
The closest one is across the city;
I am thankful for the punch of adrenaline
as I speed across Philly.
I slide to a stop on the dirty floor of the Hospital of Philadelphia.
The doctors are watching television,
even as the young lady leaks on me.
I clear my throat.
They turn and look.
Some look like they want to help
but just don’t see the point.
The doctors actually turn back to the television.
In horror, I see my reflection
mere seconds before
I scream at them
With all the fury of
an ancient Kibo
Reversing time.
Exploding in released fury.
I don’t know what I said to them
but the doctors hop to,
wheeling the bleeding lady away from me.
One doctor briefly turns back to me,
eyes shining:
“Thank you, for saving her.”
Striped in the woman’s blood
I sit down in a hard plastic chair.
I’m not all better;
we have three hours left
On the forgotten television
Is some movie about Paris.
It was raining there, too.
Wait!
It isn’t a movie.
It is a news report.
Someone lit the tower
and that nameless person had planted a flag that read
“Viva la vie, the world.”
The cops were coming for her,
so she sat smiling.
Well, the tower isn’t empty
Anymore.
I put my head in my hands.
I want the young lady to live;
She deserved to…
She had fought
And I…
I had fought for her.
During the 2016 #tonyawards
Frank Langella, upon accepting the award for LEADING ACTOR IN A PLAY, spoke on the #pulse nightclub shooting.
He said, “When something bad happens, we have three choices:
We can let it define us,
We let it destroy us,
Or we let it strengthen us.”
With this, on that night after that bad thing,
Hope didn’t fly out the box.
It lit a fire and warmed the room.
It warmed the world.
Using copper-colored fingers
I bang my pockets for change.
I don’t really have time to
Worry about the blood.
Zipping to the nearest snack machine
I use all my change;
buy all the snacks.
I need to be fueled
Because
I have at least three hours left.
Even the end of the world
doesn’t have to be
the end of
Everything.
WHERE MONSTERS ROAM
Dennis R. Upkins
It had not been the best week. For starters, my car was still stuck in the shop. By no means am I a mechanic but even I knew it didn’t take five days to replace a timing belt. Regardless, I was sentenced to taking the bus and being surrounded by the kind of element one usually avoids. A few rows ahead, some homeless drunk snored in his seat. Sadly, he wasn’t even the worst of the passengers. To my right, some little Mexican girl fidgeted while her mother combed her hair. Christ, and we wonder why this country is in the shape it is in. Rolling my eyes at the pair of illegals, I resumed cleaning out my purse and chatting on my cell. As I explained to Lesley, my car – and border jumpers – was the least of my problems at the moment.
“I’m completely over the situation,” I said. “I know I raised her right. Hell, part of the reason I even moved us to Chattanooga was to make sure she was in the right environment. This is on her.”
“I can only imagine what you’re going through, Nora,” Lesley said. “These homosexuals won’t stop until they’ve brainwashed all our children. They already control the media. Have you heard from Ginny?”
“No,” I said. “Last time I spoke to her, I laid down the law. I told her that lifestyle would not be allowed under my roof. That’s when she decided she wanted to go live with the deadbeat.”
“Oh, I bet Hank is just loving this,” Lesley hissed.
“You should’ve heard him,” I said. “So damn smug. He just relished telling me how he was going to sue for full custody.”
I felt an uneasy feeling I was being watched. Behind me sat a black man who appeared to be in his mid twenties. His brooding gaze alternated between me and the iPhone he texted on. Dressed in a blazer, sweater, cargo jeans and riding the bus, his chosen profession couldn’t be more obvious.
“I have got to get my car back,” I continued. “I never realized how many lowlifes use public transportation.”
The black passenger’s eyes narrowed. He clearly didn’t appreciate being called out. Served him right for eavesdropping. I met his scowl with a smirk and returned to my conversation.
“You be careful, Nora,” Lesley said. “You heard on the news about those dead bodies they’ve been finding downtown.”
“Oh don’t remind me,” I said. “Wild dogs or something. Listen, I’m coming up on my stop. I’ll talk to you later.”
***
It’s amazing how alert your senses are when you’re on a deserted street. My breathing, the clanking of my high heels, the slight breeze and the occasional buzz from the overhead street lamps were all blaring. I was the only soul out at this hour, or so I thought. I glanced back and spotted another figure in the distance. It was the drug dealer on the bus. He must’ve followed me. No doubt looking for payback for his perceived slight. Damn it.
I clenched my purse and quickened my pace. He increased his stride as well. He was hell bent on catching me. I wasn’t going to let him.
“Miss!” he yelled from a distance. “Hey Miss!”
I dashed right and ducked into an alley. It would be a dead end, given the luck I was having this week. Two men leaned against a wall. Their pasty skin practically glowed in the dim backstreet. The first man was wiry and possessed spiky auburn hair. The second man was far more imposing. With a hefty frame and nearly seven feet tall, he was practically a mountain.
“What’s up sweet thing?” the larger man asked.
“I need your help,” I cried. “This black guy is after me!”
“Don’t worry,” said the smaller man. “We won’t let nothing happen.”
The larger man sneered, “He’s not gonna get the chance.”
Their faces morphed. Ridges protruded, their eyes shifted to a jaundiced shade. They growled and brandished their fangs. I had seen enough movies to know what they were but my mind wouldn’t allow me to believe it. While I prayed it was panic and a trick of the light, deep down I knew better.
“She looks tasty, Morris,” the smaller one said.
“Lars, I was thinking the same thing,” Morris sneered. “We should take our time with this one.”
I shrieked.
“I love it when they run,” Lars squealed.
I nearly tripped twice in my heels as I scrambled to escape. I was too scared to look over my shoulder. I reached the edge of the alley when the black man appeared and blocked my path. His scowl was still present. He stared past me. His expression never shifted. No fear, no surprise, yet he clearly saw what I saw. That’s when it hit me. He wasn’t shocked because he was in on it. He had lured me here to be murdered by those…those..I still couldn’t bring myself to say it. Seconds passed and I realized that neither side advanced. Morris and Lars snarled. Fangs and claws were ready. But they weren’t staring at me. Their attention was focused on the man behind me.
“Brecken!” Lars growled.
The black man glanced at me, “Get out of the way!”
He shoved me into a stack of garbage bags and charged at the two men. Brecken dodged a swipe from Lars’ claws and landed a right cross. He flicked his wrist and an invisible force hurled the vampire across the alley. A blue dumpster slid and pinned the pasty predator against a brick wall. My unlikely savior was some kind of…wizard?
Morris whipped behind Brecken with inhuman speed and delivered a vicious backhand. The large vampire belted the wizard in the stomach and hoisted him over his head. Brecken twisted himself from Morris’ grip and landed nimbly on the ground. He kicked the vampire’s legs from underneath him and Morris crashed on his back. Before the vampire could recover, Brecken removed a stake from underneath his blazer and plunged it into the demon’s chest.
Morris released a guttural cry seconds before he disintegrated into a pile of ash.
“Son of a bitch!” Lars yelled. He pushed himself free from the dumpster. Before he could pounce, the wizard discharged a golden beam of light from his fist.
Black Power- The Superhero Anthology Page 10
