Can’t get that LAST breath back...
Can’t get that LAST breath back...
((a hexagon collaboration...six pieces...six views...six sides making
one))
((participating poets thelyfepoet/rose
petals/june bugg/albert carrasco/jamie bond/tyrone mobley))
we strive to breath just one last time
got more holes in us than a pin cushion
has pins
collapsed lungs
won't hold any air no more
limp bodies no longer can keep the score
when we went out to score
made some rival pretty sore
he showed us his ak-47
63 times
our combined ages are
somewhere between
47 and 63
closer to 47
when our last breath
was taken from you and me
shattered windows broken forever
as spirits ascend
from me and my friend
they plea to return
back again
so we can have one more night
miscalculated plans that didn't turn out right
we in the spotlight
under the street lights
that shine bright
bathing in our own blood
never to be
never to see
another day
the rising of the sun
and
the going down of the same
too late to get that last breath back...
((thelyfepoet 7.28.2012))
WHAT HAS HAPPEN
MY HEAD FEELS AS IF
I'VE BEEN HIT BY A
LIGHTENING
BOLT..
BLOOD IS SQUIRTING FROM MY BODY
IS THIS REAL
OMG !!
BABY WAKE UP !
BABY WAKE UP !
WHY IS MY CHILD
SO COLD ?
HER BODY SO LIMP
I CAN NOW SEE
THE WOUNDS
I'M YELLING
WE BEEN SHOT !
WE BEEN SHOT !
MY VOICE IS GETTING WEAKER
OUR AIR ABOUT GONE
NO TIME TO SPARE
NO TIME TO HATE
THE PERSON THAT
DID THIS TO US
TRYING TO HOLD ON
BUT THIS PAIN IS
TOO HARD TO FIGHT
HOLDING MY BABY
IN MY BLOODY ARMS
HER LITTLE CHEST
NO LONGER
GOING UP
OR DOWN
TEARS FALLING
FROM MY WEAK EYES
MY BREATHING IS GETTING
WORSE
MY CHEST IS ABOUT TO
CAVE IN
I USED WHAT BREATH I STILL HAVE
TO TELL MY BABY
MOMMA LOVE YOU..
NOW WE BOTH
WILL SLEEP
IN
P
E
A
C
E..
((ROSE PETALS 7/28/2012))
I got 17 in the 9INE & packs another two clips
just bucking at these busters watching them sink like
battleships
You see...
The wreckage aint shyt but another fuggin service
Negroes standing all around at the funeral, and them
families just nervice
BEE cuz they dont really know where the next shell gon' fall
Gotta bury they baby brother and now the Lord gon' call
It aint never no love for what the next negro gott
The clock just tics, then tocs on these inner city blocks
It seemed one minute my body wuz standing tall and now
everythang stops
Never cared much for nothing, my momma told me it wuz
comming
a poster child for bluffing, and
at the parlor they gott me all filled up with this liquid
like stuffing,
See...
Once upon a time not very long ago I had a spirit and a soul
I took my life for granted though, and I slept on my breath
To breathe iz to live so now i'm welcomed by Death...
If maybe I could take it all back and just respect myself
Just live my life thru the turmoil and stress
Im wondering what's next, but I think I know
No longer breathe in my lungs or life in my soul,
To breath iz to live, but that wuz never enough though...
It's to late now so...
Maybe my death will bring clarity to another individual
The only residual in the game is this pine box; complete
with a eulogy note
((JUNE BUGG 07.28.2012))
I know this scene very well,
For the almighty dollar I got 5 bullets holes,
A slug by my lung,
For nickel and dime sales.
I'm so thankful to be alive.
It wasn't the same for my brothers that promised to ride or
die,
After the commotion, the gunshots, those riders or no longer
alive.
I've held up blood choking sons,
Listened to their last wishes before I closed their eyes,
They were breathless!
Welcome to the slums.
Hammers meet shells. Shells fly, slugs make ballistics,
Ballistics give work for forensics to search for a perp,
The person that lays forever in the dirt because of the
perp,
becomes a ghetto statistic.
I've witnessed slumped over corpses,
that went through rigormortus in nycha stair cases.
The same place most of us caught 220 cases,
For being unlicensed pharmacist.
Drug capers for green paper led us to green pastures.
Rest in peace to the deceased.
((Albert Carrasco aka Infinite the poet 07.28.2012))
Snatched from a chest
Like a humidifier in a cigar room
The first scream of shocked pleas
Fall upon shattered glass in a drive by
Bullets tear tears from the eyes that can’t hear
Refuse to loose to fear
Saying farewell ~Sending unfair wells
As its propels holes thru the atmosphere
Creating apertures in craniums and heart valves
Buckled in for safety
Slumped over like a thirsty rose
Hit executed by armature pros
The Last Breadth
The one you can't ever get back
Sucked out of a vacuum sealed casket and vault
With a quivering lip and closed eyes
Of a barely audible sigh
The salted seed of a trail of tears;
Descends deeper than a 6 foot memory
Banners and Make Shift Murals,
Cards, Candles and Street Team Salutations
The heart ache of one violent death of a family member
Is another heart wrenching burial for the entire nation…
((~~ Jamie Bond ~~ 07.28.2012))
To run everything in the streets
Was the game plan,
Little did they expect,
Sitting in that car,
Thirty seconds from now,
An AK-47 would fill them
Full of holes,
Dreams grandeur all gone.
All that was left,
Was for them
To take their last breaths,
Say hello to death,
No thoughts of pain,
All that was worth anything,
Was their thoughts of regrets.
You see,
In life, many times,
It’s about what you
Put in,
Is what you get,
Karma has a
Very long memory,
It,
Never forgets
To collect its debts!
Now wishing for death,
But not just yet,
For suffering is
A requisite of the streets!
Judgment must be held
Before your maker
You meet,
So its off to sleep,
May they,
Rest in PEACE!
((Tyrone Mobley 07.28.2012))
https://www.facebook.com/notes/todd-smith/cant-get-that-last-breath-back/10151142784546667
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