NORMALITY East Grand Blvd/New Center outside scenery Looking for inspiration to pen poetry Many cars many people But one stood out to me Legs crossed femininely Fully clothed Dressed weather appropriately Longing in the mental capacity He sat near me And as I eat my lunch I pick up my purse clingingly His partially sun-kissed hands Tell signs of fire or vitiligo His whispered murmuring Tales maybe only he knows But don't come out properly His zebra print backpack and Metro Detroit Girl Scouts lunch sack Hold mysteries Of what, just as his mind must be It told him years ago Keep your secrets within He balances a cigarette in hand Wanting to smoke possibly To pass time away simply It's windy, his jacket gets placed Strategically over his head and face And I take that opportunity To get up and move Not that I wouldn't if he was looking But because I hear the click click click Preface to the soon to be smoke At least that's what I tell myself So I relocate Close enough To still have a good view I see him looking back Gun lying by his side Super Soaker- size -medium All of it seemingly attempts To be comfortable But it's I who was not at ease He never-minded me Next he arose Now at the garbage can Looking for cans , I suppose Another look up he was gone Although never to appear again His bright blue and white coat has left an imprint Burned in my eyes I picture him fluttering about As a chirping bird My lesson is now realized Maybe he isn't sad and trapped But happy and free And it's actually all of us We are stuck inside NORMALITY Whatever THAT may be. (c) 2010.04.21 Natasha 'Beautiful Thought' Ane'e, All Rights Reserved www.facebook.com/beautifulthought

"I Come From..." I come from the Motor City, a once warm welcoming place to Southern migrants. I come from the pioneer of todays vehicle. Factory workers, once able to live beyond their fathers means. I come from a music mecca. The mother of electronic music, the Motown sound and a stomping ground for scat legends. I come from picturesque architecture, now vulnerable amongst bureaucratic conflict. I come from a city separated by hate. Due to a weeks long war, races are now separate, never equal. I come from the nationally-deemed murder capital. People robbing lives at the drop of a hat, depressed not knowing who will supply their next fix. I come from a victim of urban sprawl. Self separation. No longer forced by Jim Crow Laws to not play together, eat together. Though those who left us are returning, large numbers still want to remain amongst their own kind. Gentrification  Detroits newest felon. I come from a cluster that devours savory flavors from culinary culture but never faith nor differences. We eat at restaurants owned by our fellow Arab, Greek, Polish and Mexican brethren only to be the first to stab them in the back, spurring satanic slanderwords never uttered even to the worse of kin. I come from a city thats lost the ability to embrace its people. Becoming hard to remember the good ol days, the days when Detroit was an economic leader. Everyone wanted stake in my hometown. I come from a place who has lost all sense of self and identity. I come from a place rich in history yet unable to tell its own story. I come from a place that needs to stand up, hold the hands of their fellow brothers and sisters, hold each other accountable and strive towards change. I come from a place that will always be my home. Despite national negative notions, poisonous perceptions spewed by eyes that have only seen this city via a photo or a video screen. I come from a place where its citizens will always make room for it in their hearts. I come from a place that can be what it once was yet better. I come from a place that I will always truly love because it made me who I am and I am proud to say that I am from Detroit.

Violet Blue

Red scarf, caught my eye
Brown eyes, walking by

White smile, caramel skin
Purple swag, a mystery within

Black hair, embraces her yellow bone
Beauty glows, from her orange tone

Vuluptuios pink lips, got my remedy
Money green voice, a gold melody

A lucky charm, and a tasty rainbow
Violet flower, it takes blue to tango

Written by Steven Davis also aurthor of The Rapture

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