(for Kevin)
by Jesús Papoleto Meléndez
I have no idea
,What
caused HiS
Blindness,
If he was born
like that
I did not dare
to ask,
thinking it
rude
to inquire
How Life
had been so
cruel
,or perhaps
that He
was just as well
without his eyes
…Still
all, that He could see
is in his
Mind…
And i,
could
not help
but, wondered
whY
He could never see
,This Scene
just passed my eyes:
i t bi t
ty ty
flowErBLOS
SOMS
sleeping
inab
unch
&a regular,
old
pesky
housefly
LanDs
so
ex
ac
Tl
y
on
just
one
Nor,
The Early
Mourning
puffed-up
faces
of waking bums --
As if
in their sleeps,
Their dreams
had beat
them up;
Their, Shopping Carts
of Life’s belongings
/lined up
like Vehicles
against the curb
as Homeless
Men&Women
,now appearing
in
the workday
Light
like dirt
tumBling
oVer
,Awake
from their
Policedisturbed slumber
on the grassy
knolls
of private,
Urban
front/Yards
Sprawled
with bro
k
en
card
board
box
es
upon which
recline
the destitute
,waiting
their turn
to die.
I ask, My Foolish Self
,the (?) “Why”
My Mind
not believing
its
own eyes
-- Though
they’ve
no History
of telling lies
As they look
,across
the whole
of Society
,searching for the Beauty
,confounded by
Futility....
(taxi cab
prospective
drivers
&FBI agents
,line up
to get
their cabs
for the
day
-- Hoping
for
the best
of the fleet
-- to Hustle
un
fair
fares
from strangers
,visitors;
citizens
yet, foreigners
to the unTold
Penal
Code
of this city’s
unswept
streets)
He told me
he played Piano
,that Jazz
was the Music
he Loved
,but/Hated
playing in chic
smoke-filled
clubs
,where the lovers
of jaZZ
& all that Stuff
would mispronouce
their favorite
drinks
,till they
could no longer
use their minds
to think
&blow
their cigarettes
into his eyes
-- forcing them
to blinK.
O! The Sun Is Bright!
/Against Any Eyes
-- Opening
…to Live
,yet another
Day!
But in the streets
,where ,Nothing
gets
a good night's sleep
-- Its Light Explodes!
in
blanked-out Irises
,Once
flickered, by childish lash
es,
-- Now
all too-much/Accustomed/to
the daily whips&lashes
,Reality un
leashes, beginning with the lies
spitted from the mouths of politician’sSpeeches
FOR THEY ARE
THE TRUE
LEECHES
of
Life’s pure Treasures
,earning SO MUCH
for doing notmuch at all
with Great Pleasure;
leaving, thePoor
so more
poorly
confused
:to
measure out, the rest of their lives
with dull plastic spoons
,Howling
like Dogs
at their lives’ FullMoon
,gone!…
Perhaps,
My Friend
is blind
by Choice
,HiS OwN!
refusing(
to see) anymore;
He’s locked
his mind’s door
/Against the face
of a society
of hoards
Who have
,EveryThing
that
Money could possibly buy
,&Still
are bored, unconscious
of
their leisured lives
,while somebody like me
is forced
to see ‘TheM’ daily
,flaunting
their Fancy Autos
,to GasUp
&Go
complain
about a
drop
of rain
,on a terrain
where
it never snows(
hidden kept
)Their treasured pain.
O! Tourists Come, &
Tourists Go
,seeing less
of what truly goes
beneath
their open nose
,Conscientiously
rejecTing ‘Those’
conDemned, unSightly
by ‘Those’
if only, sLightly(
Above
the spit)
be
neath
their own feet
,Where these sad souls
are consoled
in sleep.
ON THIS DAY!
In The BrightBroadLight
,in plainSight(
sublime)
only to the blind:
Shoppers will die
on the lines
that they keep
,Born
to Shop
too wallet-proud
to weep
-- Buying, yeT
ANother
BlenDeR
-- This One,
proMising
to do MoRe
than
the One
before --
Until next
week
,When
a brand-new Shopper’s born;
Human Aliens
will ,Still
illegally
/Cross
im a
g in a
ry
bo
rde
rs
,as birds
& bugs
fly freely
to &
fro
from Mexico
to
San Diego;
While Negroes
,in the Black Night
of Life
rob MoM&PoP
,corner grocery
stores
runNing through
smashed open doors
with nothing
more
than useless papers
in their hands;
Their Shadows
still hovering
in Slavery,
leaving Death
where They
now stand:
And,
Young Girls’ Dreams
go, up in smoke
in the heat of a stranger’s
AnGRyPAsSIoN’SRaGE!
passing this, as if some gift
,Confusing Hate!
for Human Bliss!…
While, Tomorrow
,a new
Born
baby
CRiiiES!!!…
for
SomeThing
as yet, UnKnown
to Humankind!…
How Can The World
Be Like This!?
…so, Cruel!
& yet,
It still is Life!…
…OHNO!!!
He did not say
what He had seen
,Although
I could feel
HiS feeling’s feelings, seeping through
this blinded Human Being
Even, He
Could See
:Life is Nothing, but DeMeaning
-- Void
of its own
feeling,
unyielding
in its cruelty
toward, the so many human bleeding!…
…O! Blind Men!
…O! Blind Men!
We’ll always see
theM
,standing
with their
sticks
at
Bus Stops
…waiting
wondering
(through
their black
eyes) ,Perhaps
“What, Bus
is This?!”
PDF 
Follow phati’tude!