April is National Poetry Month and to that end, we’d like to share some words from a Bronx Poet who’s has graced the stages of the Nuyorican Poets Cafe, El Museo del Barrio, and the Bronx Museum (among many others) when he’s not walking the halls of justice at Bronx Family Court as an Officer (you can catch him this Thursday, April 24th at the Andrew Freedman Home).

 

Peach, as he’s known both on and off the stage by his friends and fans alike recently published, ‘Rooftop Reflections Lessons Learned from the Outside Looking In‘ where you’re told to,  “Let him take you by the hand as he shows how he navigates life, love, maturity, ethnic identity and cultural awareness while growing up in New York City. It may not always be pretty, but its real and it made him the man that he is today. A true soul searching poetic insight of how one young boy found his voice while trying to grow up and how one officer found order in the midst of chaos. A must read for anyone ever curious about the urban dichotomous conflict, that pits boy against man, good versus evil and the past against the future.”

 

This is his Bronx Story:

 

My Bronx Story

 

Welcome to my Bronx story
it’s a tale of temptation
from 138th Street to the Grand Concourse
consider this your initiation
from las calles of Kingsbridge to Tremont Ave
and a Fordham Road paved with gold
from Prospect Ave to Gun Hill Road
many a person needs to hear this toldso how do you get that second chance
when you were not worthy of the first
and unteach all the laws of the street
that were instilled in you since birth?
even birds with broken wings
learn how to fly again
the true fear is not in the result
but in the failure or lack of trying

 

sins carried upon my back
built upon fallacies and lying
scars written all over my face
are but remnants of my crying
from harsh realities of killers with smiles
that’s why the good are always dying
because it’s easy to get hit in the heart
if they stab you in ya back
it’s not ‘cause you loved too hard
it’s from the courage that they lack
perp walks are drawn
from outlines of chalk
and even after the rain
the blood still remains
and now begins the tough talk
blood lust frenzy
occupies the men that we be
straight scripture talk
begins at the table
an eye for an eye
just like Cain and Abel
but if just for a second
we can break this tribal hold
that’s been foretold
for far too many a season
and think back in time
to the first days of rhyme
where love was the only reason
because an NYSID number
is nothing more
than a barcode in
the bodega of life
your strength in the yard
matters not
to your unborn child
and your wife
so if you didn’t retaliate
does it really make you a phony?
because all the letters your lady writes you
ain’t gonna fill your commissary homie
I wish for this poem to be heard
by every juvie going thru
Spofford’s door
from every courtroom
in the halls of justice
to every tier on C-74
cause you back on the block
slinging that rock
got that Charlie Sheen
and you think you winning
never took a second look
at that first impression
but you can start right now
and make that brand new beginning
because karma may not come on time
but she will never be late
Atlas held the world on his shoulders
do you think
he thought about his worth
while he was preoccupied
by its weight?
when you dance with the devil
between good and evil
at times the line is drawn  paper thin
but karma recognizes
neither conscience nor fate
and sometimes
you can’t outrun sin.

 

Make sure you grab your copy and support local Bronx artists!

 


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