Run boy, Run!
Past the schoolhouse and playground
past the neighbors where big Jr. lives
Run fast and run free like a bird in the sky.
And don't stop running.
Run boy! Through the alleyways
and past the vicious dog.
By the girl's house where she smiled at you.
Run boy and keep running.
Over hills and crevices deep in the ground - don't trip up, you skip,
jump over them boy and run, run faster now run boy! Running, past old cars planted in the woods, growing weeds and snakes and rusted teeth, run.
Past streams up hidden spaces in the mornings were no one's ever been before.
Running in the rain,
in the sunshine
there behind you a rainbow.
Still running faster now faster
you run boy Run.
He's running and there on the TV screen a man hating him.
For being alive.
He's running, and another man telling him
how they want him to die.
Running in circles in a cage,
running through jungles to get away
from the monsters.
To new monsters ...run boy run!
Running now, along fences and walls and
border beast, in uniform ugliness.
don't get caught, they will trap you,
beat you, rape you. Run boy Run
Run! From the mercenaries shooting, and looting your lives, run from it all.
The monster the monster,
sweaty and obese
it's slabs of fat waiting for the feast of
It lies, the lies come out it's mouth like flies,
how could it be otherwise.
For the nasty rapist,
thrust and hump is animal base for ass
and rump it fucks a hole of rat or mole a
corpse will do
as well as you.
It doesn't care.
Keyhole or bear,
it's children whom grow up assumes
that they must rape and also hate.
Incestrus grope of childhood hopes boy, run I tell you run.
In the story, a great disaster befalls a city.
The people cry, all melt away as snowflakes cus they died.
And lessons learned the children burn to hopefully not make the turns.
That brought calamity before their eyes.
Behold! The bomb tracks of the beast.
A prehistoric creature peeps above the mountain tops.
She screams, the aliens all drowned in streams.
And freed the monster stomps and feeds, It feast on peasants as they plead, that's our children and it's you.
You don't believe? You think your safe that yours will never know this date? That you'll be rich - the poor will slave for you?
The monster grieves for you and yours? To him your whores.
One generation's all it needs to forget the horror on which it feeds.
Still running, for years, turned to decades, a whole lifetime on the run.
Running from illusion, from deception, from it's excuses.
Running from it's lie.
All just to make it feel better about itself.
"I have black hair, I have brown eyes but we're all the same on the inside." That's what the TV said.
The TV said many things,
like police shoot people doing things like being in a park. Or driving after dark,
or driving during day time
or any time at all.
The TV says that he is black, but he is golden brown.
His mother says, " don't go out there, you stay at home because we care."
He spends his days, absorbing from the screen. Learning things that children learn, when left alone trapped in the cell of home.
"We are different on the outside but we're all the same inside." He'd learned, "so what's the color inside?"
The computer didn't seem to have an answer, people said on the inside we're full of blood and when it touched the air it turns red.
But if you looked at the blood coursing through your veins it's obviously blue.
He couldn't tell if the blood in his veins were blue. "What color was inside?
He had to see the color of inside.
On the days when not at school, he played inside and searched the rooms. Where mom and daddy cooked and sleep.
Where Aunt Latifa hid her spliff; that's a marijuana cigarette.
In the bathroom where his father shaved he found the razor blades.
He took a new one from the box.
And then began to run.
Run boy down the stairs and then
keep running out the backdoor, slam!
Across the yard and though the gate. Cross alleyway, to the house of his friend. He ran, right though big Jr's house.
Keep running boy across the street
Still breathing hard
he stopped to see.
If anyone was watching him.
He was alone.
On the schools football field.
To his right, was the colorful school playground.
Beyond that the elementary school,
were the school principal,
tucked in his pants.
He ran the rest of the distance to the gate at the end of the field.
Then opened his hand to look at the blade.
It was wrapped in brown paper.
Removing the paper,
he held it over the vein where it was blue
who could see the color.
But that could kill him if he cut there.
"Where should I cut"
he asked himself, he turned his left hand over.
"Behind the pinky on the inside."
Then he cut himself,
to see the color of inside.
And he saw,
only for an instant the flesh was white,
then the blood welled up.
The blood welled up!
He was in trouble now!
It was bleeding a lot.
He threw down the blade to the other side of the gate.
Concocting a story, as he ran,
The big boys did it,
the big boys!
They held me down and cut me."
And he ran,
cross the field and the street though big
bleeding on the hardwood floor,
out the back door cross the alley.
Run boy, run boy ...
all the way home.