The Early Years; Pt. 1 No, I do NOT remember the day, that they took me from my mother. Yet, it began a life's journey, soooo quite unlike any other. There was no time for innocence; this is not at all what lay in store. From the beatings by age 2, until my adoption at the age of 4. What should have been my early years, became a loooong nightmare come true. For, little did I know then, what darker halls I'd stumble on through.
So, these people were said to want me, I mean, they bought me fair & square.. So quickly would I dine, with the evils that would greet me there. Between religion & psychosis, which then seemed one in the same. For every time they beat & raped me, it was done in some dead god's name. Love, as I was to learn; was taught well to me through pain. If I did not suffer, and/or scream, what lesson would a lil boy have to gain?
The Love that I learned was twisted sex; mixed with a lovingly brutal beating. They would surely teach me well, as my Mind, Body & Soul, lay silent. Bleeding. What I learned of Love early on, most never have to see or even know. The seeds in this secret garden, sown, oh so deep. The dark flowers of this pain, would always grow. 7 years of cruel nights & fear filled days, well, they just came & they just went; my heart, soul & spirit lay wounded, I was very nearly spent.
There was little if anything left, of what should've, would've & could've been me. Yet, little would I know then, this was NOT the worst I'd come to see. 10 years old, the State took me away; The SAME State that sold me into this cruel slavery; The SAME ones who somehow assigned for me, this oh so callous savagery. The NEXT cycle of my demise, was yet another 7 years. Another labyrinth of destruction, rape, & YESSS, MANY MORE TEARS.
They took me from one hell to another, as if the first mistake they made wasn't quite enough. There was no one there to defend me; I learned the struggling essence of being ever so tough. I wandered alone, in orphanage halls; Hoping to one day not be, the child who has to roam. Thus began my endless tours, from there onto home to place & place to home. This is the road less traveled indeed, I was just another broken toy, battered boy; No need for me, or want for me; Unless it was for some freak, to use & further destroy……
C.2013 MVLT/Detroit Jones
This is just one phase of this poem. It is just one or two phases of my early life as a child. This is real life. I know it all to well… Detroit Jones This is a picture of me, taken on the one year anniversary of my adoption. Life was not yet crazy, as they had just gotten the order from the court that I was there property. The series of pics that came directly after this pic, are scary enough, and not at all like this one. THAT was the beginning of just yet, another phase in my life's destruction.
Until Next time;
Be well…
Love your friends, family, neighbors.
Even if you disagree, or don't like them;
we are all one big mess of humanity trying to struggle through.
We face & fight our OWN demons, on our OWN; everyday…
('Home Street Home', pt. 2) I sigh. Then step into the morning…
Wind swept snow falls, swirls, whirling, as a dervish across this barren asphalt tundra.
The peel and wail of a siren screams, rushing to collide with the echoing clap-clap-clap & rat-a-tat-tat of gun fire, just South of the “8”.
The crisp, clean moon hanging high, dangling there; sharing with me it’s reflection of light that’s yet to come, smiling on me in its wicked way, seeming as if to say, "I know you wish that you were here".
I sigh again. Off in the near distance, a woman screams, her rambling rant echoes wildly across an empty, early,cityscape. No one about to hear her. No one around to care. Her lunacy is thus her only friend. She seems thusly accustomed.
The click-click-click of a broken wheel on another stolen grocer’s cart, pushed by another broken, wayward soul; repeats-repeats-repeats, draws near, nearer, then falls, fading on away.
It fades, I fumble with frozen phalanges to find, ignite and inhale another hand-rolled smoke. I stand starkly still in this moment, letting its essence enter me, its poison course through me. I absorb its smoky calm. Exhale. Slowly, a plume to contrast the still purity of an empty street.
Inhale. Exhale. Until the cycle is complete. In these moments, pondering.
Recalling the sleepless night that preceded this savored moment of simple silence. The cries and coughs, mumbles and moans, laughter and lewdities uttered. My small space, in a huge room allotted for unwanted, unclean and unseen such as I.
Surrounded by the dolts and drunkards, vandals and villains, sociopaths and savants, con-artists and convicts, the boogie-men & the buffoons.
Their scattered soul sketches shatter the still of a nighttime peace. Constant. A bombardment. Like mental M-16s firing across a messy minefield behind an enemy’s line. No peace here. No rest.
I sigh. Yet again, I remain still in my tiny space. Resting only until the pre-dawn raid of chaos; as this mecca of madness alerts itself, and awakens to arise to face the battle of just…… Yet another day.
Another sigh escapes my lips; another tear slips slowly, silently down my cheek. I ponder it. Ponder and wonder upon it all, this life, this place, this condemned clutter of a place to be. The dreams I once held sacred and dear have led me on to this. Gone now, they remain jaded, faded echoes of memories,
I sigh.
Yet again I arise from my space, fall in line and align with the cadre of survivors. Suit up in the mind-splattered armor of my tattered sanity; and go off into the stark, dark, pre-dawn to fight today as every day.
The simple mental war. I stand as I can as that which I am, I am….. Indeed; One of these, The Warrior Souls.
C. 2013 MVLT/D. Jones
Micheal Valentino-LaTraviato/Detroit Jones
I hope you enjoyed that piece.
I wrote it one early am while i was homeless and freezing cold.
It truly is all that crossed my mind in and around that moment in which it was conceived & written.
speaking of Warrior Souls, Here is a video of & by another Warrior Soul; Mz. Doro Pesch.
As well, some more warrior Souls from the Motor City & L.A.; simply, Warrior Soul…
Arm Yourself with Bullets of TRUTH;
As The Mind IS the GREATEST Weapon of CHOICE… Use it Wisely, Use it WELL!!!!
Cave Radio has some very cool things happening. They are finally moved into their new studio, and moving ahead with some awesome & diverse shows in their programming schedule.
