Detroit Jones: The Early Years; Pt 1

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.