After reading about an article that feature Young Chicago Authors I looked up a poem that I heard years ago when I was an undergrad in college that revolved around young people killing other young people in Chicago performed by two poets by the name of Demetrius Amparan and Nate Marshall. With the violence that has occurred this summer I felt the words to the poem deserved a post. Lost Count: A Love Story Will they ever call your death beautiful Your life a sacrifice Will the meeting of blood and bullet ever be called romantic A love story to be jealous of Chris… I remember you when Guatemalan green matching your flag on your Independence Day Your hair was a black puff of curl and confidence In homeroom you always had homies in the hallway waiting for you We’re still waiting I couldn’t sleep for a week When you washed up water logged in the Calumet River Puffed and purple like violets before bloom Eddie, you were the first to say high to me First day of school when I stepped in with Bugle boy jeans and a high top fade and I saw YOU Possibly, the coolest dude to ever grace elementary September 22, 2006, 8th period “We really need to hang out” “Yeah, that’ll be cool” “I’ll see you later, D” September 22, 2006 8:30 PM may be a little later than I thought when your path ended on Vincennes Road Run down by bad luck…. and a police officer Lives like these shouldn’t be shortened Sentence fragments of a future And in the 14 days it took us to write this We’ve had to add more names to this list Because in this city, before we blossom We must weather storms unforecast because Every intersection can become Virgina Tech So excuse me if the news be missing my emotions See being brown in Bigger Thomas’s town makes you endangered And in the past TWO years I’ve seen over SIXTY Native Sons set…. in the graves I guess… this is the part where, poets produce plans And we don’t have any In Chicago, anyone under age 20 is a target And I don’t know how to do more than be afraid That in age allowing me to be on this stage Might have me murdered by Monday I’m 18! I play pick-up basketball games with ghosts! Is there a reason, I’m making it out of a community that has martyred young men I might be mistaken for I! DON’T! KNOW! Will they ever call your death beautiful Your life a sacrifice A love story to be jealous of How many deaths will it take Before THIS is considered genocide
Posted on: Tue, 22 Jul 2014 12:56:51 +0000
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