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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Environment · #1607421
true story as seen through the eyes of a little boy in the projects in the sixties
A brick and concrete giant
standing with his brothers
they all look the same
where growing up seems easy
but a foolish game was played

Two bathrooms
five bedrooms and plenty of living space
ends the race and gives youngsters time to dream
of all the doors that spurt their treasures on Halloween
from dusk to dawn

The weather sometimes locks you in
on thirteen levels one can play
a little tag or hide and seek
helps to melt the time away
the winding staircase may be endless
yet the motor car can take you to the sky
with energy spent the day ends
on Mercer Street

To visit friends on level eight
playing doctor seems so great
injections draw no blood but leave a mark
confusion bares a scar that last forever
when you lay down to sleep this night
the heat burns a feeling of strange beginnings

Big brothers hiding secrets from us all
the bloodstains on the shiny surface
mark a spot where virgins fall
sometimes in the dead of night
the ugly monsters run the halls

With time boys do learn to kiss and tell the tale
experience the softly rigid skin that sometimes fails
to sniff a bag of heights that quell
and mask the hunger of an age that wails
the steps to fast
on Mercer Street

Young men taken to a fight for freedom
as others flight or try to bend the mighty hand
mothers left with tears of sorrow
when holidays are lonely and gone
a wish
a prayer
a celebration of a journey done

Cold water brings a chill on a hot muggy night
wet children stilled when keepers arrive to cut the flow
angry words that stir a change one summer day
leaves a young one battered and bruised
when lawless men ask no questions

Burning spoons can make one happy
but at ten years old you have your fun by other means
the smooth black floor outside invites a game of tops today
or maybe scrape you knee on painted bases
when the score is not your way
on Mercer Street

Sirens break the silence of the night
strangers shopping pay no money
yet they take everything in plain sight
footsteps running bring you down
on glass that marks the skin forever

Outside the bricks are flying
a parade of terror running by
a pointed fingers looks and wonders
and you feel the heat the same
today is not the day to stand

Fires roar into the night
when simple madness fills the heart
morning brings an empty sight
where kings and queens left castles bare
of all things worthy of a ply

Peacekeepers roll on squeaky wheels
smoking cigarettes and lethal weapons
there is thunder in the night
when lightning hits the target
you find streams of shattered glass in red
on Mercer Street

Rumbles here just come and go
as cultures earn the right to grow
when learning how to mark your space
you mingle and you get to taste
the many fibers twined with race

You glory in the times that pass
a cloud of dust conceals the blast
so many years of good and bad
of friendships won
to friendships lost
and innocence trapped in time
the secrets die with one last breath
the brick and concrete giants down at last
on Mercer Street

© Copyright 2009 Samuelpaul (samuelsplace at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1607421