in search of a song volume 350

8/6/2019 In Search of a Song Volume 350

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POEMSBY

REGGIEWYCHE


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POEMS-BY

REGGIEWYCHE

AWaterways ProjectPublicationRichard SpiegelBarbara Fishercodirectors

Thomas Perryadministrative assistant

Jonathan Shapiroteacher

Lower Eastside PrepVincent Maniscalco

principal, i.a.Stephen E. Phillipssuperintendent

Alternative High Schools &Programs1997 Ten Penny Playerswith funding support from

the NY State Council on the Arts


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ChallengerI look in his eyes at the top of the key,Flatfooted shorty trunks he can guard me.I sail to his left and then whip to his right,I leave him behind, I ease into flight.Starting to slide, I charge for the goal,I slaughter his ego with a nice finger roll.

RejectionThese little lay-up kids must be insane,They're trying to violate my domain.Don't bring it in here: It's flying back out.Rejection's what it's all about.I live for the block, I crave it. I need it.You put it up here, I'll make you eat it.

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ParanoidEvery single person is staring on this train.They look and look away-messingwith my brain. . .They mutter under their breath

about how I smell.They give secret glances-they laughed

when I fell.They radio cops, they go throughmy pockets.

They're stealing my money andall of my chocolates.

What's this guy staring at- I didn't do nuthin'One more time-I'm gonna have to snuffhim.

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LightheadedI sit back in my chair, and I'm frozen in time.I can't move or speak, that voice isn't mine.I'm watching myself go get a cold beverage.I need twenty minutes to regain my leverage.There's some kind of gap between thought

and motion.I feel very light, like I'm out in the ocean.I ask for some nachos-but my words don't come.I'll just watch that stain 'till it's time to go home.

FriedI'm pointing to a stain no one else can see.That mannequin in the mirror really

looks like me.I lay in the dark, dreaming of lightI'm definitely gonna be here all night.I can't understand a word anyone's sayingthey're leaving-I'm floating-I think that

I'm staying.My fingers are clenched and my toes are

all curled.I don't recall when I fell off the world.4


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. Barely ConsciousThe bathroom's so far and my hands are so hot."Help me up," I either said or thought.I think I'm on my feet-How'd I get

the strength to stand?I feel no contact between the wall and my hand.I move my head and the whole earth slides.I gaze emptily through watery eyes.

FightYou're gonna lose all your upper body feeling.On your ass so fast your fleas will be reelingI'll rock you in the face stab your heart withya noseboneJack your lungs so hard you can only breathe

Ozone.I'm gonna set you so nurses are checking you.You gonna feel like Mike Tyson is decking you.You say you're sorry-I don't buy it.I'll check your ass like a looter in a riot.

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Run

The sirens wail loudly, The lights reflectall over.Three men jump out of a dark land rover.

We pack up, zip up, lace up and go.running from the five, running from the O.Some heads run one way, some duck

in stores,I've got sweat from evety one of my pores.Convinced of my story, I've been here

all night.God, but I hate New York's blue-and-white.

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PsychoThere's ten too many voices that speak

everydayThe voices- in our head- since the fifteenth

of MayEchoing, chanting, and moaning and such,Some voices speak English, a couple speak

DutchI call me Bobby and I call me Ace.There's a village of midgets behind our

green face.We voted last Sunday to buy a few pigeons,I'm glad I'm not the one who makes

the decisions.Maybe I can get a ride with Johnny

the car king.There's a lot of us in here, and not that much

parking.

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ForgotI think I soldmy soul not too long ago.I don't remember who I sold it to, though.How much did I get, did I already spend it?'Cuz there's no way inheck that I'm

independent.When did this happen, what was I thinking?I musta been drunk. I musta been drinking.Deny it, but it happened, I'll find out I guess,to whom I am promised, this sure is a mess.

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in search of a song volume 350

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