“The Dawn of a Nine Year Old Boy’s Angelic Eyes.”

chillthepoet2016

 

Where did all the lights go?

As I stepped out of the back door;

Going to take the garbage out.

About to open the garbage can.

My little nine year old self.

Found himself suddenly in

The midst of angry growling sounds.

Who is growling?

or better yet how many folks were growling around me?

The darkness in the alley felt so thick.

It was all around me.

And then I felt what seemed like one man,

two men or a whole crowd of bitter men surrounding me.

Didn’t have time to feel fear.

I just knew something was wrong.

I could taste so much death around me.

The thickness in the air was a sign of

what was upon me.

Then I saw a crowd of lit up eyes around me.

Coming closer…

Now right in front of me.

I could taste the end of me.

What were these things around me?

Hungry wolves?

I couldn’t tell at all.

Suddenly, I could hear simultaneously

So many triggers being pulled towards me.

I felt the hunters’ wrath upon me.

Then my soul’s light came upon me.

Whispered to me that you will be okay honey.

Then an angel pulled my beautiful soul out of

my nine year old body.

As a hundred bullets ripped apart my nine year old body.

I cried!

I cried, as wicked men murdered me!

I just wanted to be held one more time

by my loving mommy.

I just wanted to play baseball one more time,

with my loving daddy!

There was nothing that I could do!

Those wicked men shot off my new brand name shoes.

All that wicked laughing got louder and louder,

And police sirens stirred about and got closer.

All those wicked evil men got away.

My mommy ran out the house

and fell on top of me.

Lifted up her prayer hands

over my dead nine year old body.

All that gruesome horror

became my prime time news story.

Every part of my nine year old body

was scattered over the….

Wait a minute! The lights just came on again

in the alley.

And my mother fainted,

where she once prayed over me.

The police bagged up parts of my once living body.

My mother was taken quickly to be hospitalized.

She refused to open her once hopeful eyes.

I was practicing spreading my angel’s wings.

Had to stay close to momma

And make sure everything was okay.

I sang to my mother our favorite church song

Entitled, “Peace Still Survives.”

About 4:00am in the hospital bed;

She finally opened her eyes.

I stood proud, with heaven’s Angelic wings

upon my back.

And told her that I will always love her;

There is no beginning or end in my

forever loving vocabulary.

She said, “Please don’t go my son!”

I kissed my mother one last time on the head.

I disappeared right there in front of her.

Appeared once more at the garbage can.

Opened the lid and put the garbage bag

in the garbage can.

Had to finish my last chore.

To honor my mother and father.

There were so many bullets…

So much blood.

I could see a toe and a finger

behind the garbage can.

I cried and said, “And soon wicked men will be no more!”

I am a churchin type of nine year old boy.

I thought of Psalm 23 one last time.

Prayed for my Mom and Dad one more time.

Prayed to God and the angels to stop ‘Black on Black crimes.’

Then I vanished.

God called me home.

What I left behind, as the sunshine filled up that alley

was an angel’s feather.

Ms. Johnston my neighbor of 94 years of age

lives next door to my house.

Slowly walks out to the alley,

Where I was murdered last night.

She walks on a walking cane.

Used to babysit me since I was born.

She fell on her praying knees and cried and said,”

Why? O Why? Did you take that precious nine year old boy away?

Then Ms. Johnston looked over and saw my angel’s feather;

that I had left behind.

She looks toward the cloudy blue smiling skies and says,

“I get it, God! You are recruiting the best of us. You are building

your army of angels up. So, you needed the innocence

of a nine year old boy to lead your charge.

I know father God that you are near.

I release all my remaining FEARS!!!

For now heaven possesses our dearest blood.

A nine year old angel boy.

Our champion…

Heaven’s champion is now watching all over us.

And then she sees the face of that nine year old angel boy

Smiling back at her from the cloudy blue clouds,

where the Burnt Orange Sunrise Jewel fills up the morning sky.

Now all of the darkest alleys

And all the darkest places,

Where evil continues to roam shall face a new angelic hero.

This is the Dawn of a nine year old boy’s angelic eyes.

Watching and protecting black children everywhere,

At any time,

with his angelic giving smile.

 

(C) Copyrighted

 

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“Got A Friend With HIV.”

chill1

Got a friend with HIV.
This is what he just told me.
I remember him as a little boy,
with playful feet.
That touched the palms of my hands…
A precious baby boy;
who I was so happy to meet.
A captured moment that I shall forever keep.

I got a friend with HIV.
Who means so much to me.
I am crying for him actually.
Don’t want anyone to steal away
the beautiful person;
that he has come to be.
Don’t want folks and things to steal away his hopes and his living dreams.
I can remember who he was and
what he still means to me.
Come on Child of God sit right here next to me.

I don’t give a care, if you have HIV.
Come here and sit right next to me.
Come on now and know that you are safe sitting right here next to me.
Give me a hug!
I’ll hug you back!
Look at your feet.
Look at the grown man that you have become.
A styles battling dancer on the run.
Winning dancing competitions here and there.
In the face of those sometimes unknown fears.
Don’t you know how dear you are to me?
You are my friend.
Can’t you see?

I don’t care if you have HIV.
Because I still have your baby feet memories flowing through my tears.
I can remember when you used to hug my ear…
that baby boy that you used to be.
Dangling your baby feet upon my loving palms.
I wish I could take your saddest tears away from you.
That is the God’s honest truth.
For there is nothing wrong with you.
For you are a Child of God, with HIV.
My friend sitting right here next to me.
I love and accept you.
That is my forever promise to you.
All my mortal days remaining
will be spent loving you.
So, lets get up and walk down this street.
Leave the ignorant folks,
where they be.
Because God gave you two good working feet to help people,
as you meet your Divine Destiny.
So, HIV means this to me.
Your (Heart) is (Infinite) at angelic (Velocities).

 

(c) copyrighted

Amen to the One Cosmic Soul.

cartoonme

 

 

Love comes to me each and every day.

Never asks for anything.

It just is.

My dearest friend.

Love comes to me.

In my anger,

it reminds me;

that it loves me so!

I am love!

Disguised as Now.

Soon, I’ll be another version of me.

Each breath I take.

Is God’s gift to me.

Hurting and loving.

Is my human destiny!

For without one another.

How could I write so much poetry.

It takes getting down and dirty.

In my feelings.

It seems more important than ever before.

I keep on discovering more poetic parts of me.

Hidden in each and every passing breath.

I find God anew.

Always besides me and 

revealing my many living truths.

Knowing that I am loved so by

the animating love of God’s hopes.

I am love.

and you are love.

Together, we are both Cosmic love.

Let us both dine on Cosmic chance and

the living romance of days.

Let us in our own ways.

Just pray for gratitudes gift

of abundance in our lives.

Let us all sing together that God is still alive.

I love you!

You love me!

That was the first song ever played.

When God created you and me.

Love comes to me.

Each and every breath I take.

Let us always be grateful

for the gift to be humanity.

And this is what I say each and every day.

As the Sun rays dance on my waking faith.

To know that all I am was created from 

love’s enduring place

inside of my and yours eternal Soul.

For God’s divine love for each and everyone of us lives

on inside the One Cosmic Soul.

Amen to the One Cosmic Soul.

 

(C) Copyrighted

loveclaude2016

‘AllHumanLivesMAtters.’

Dedicated to the two New York Cops Murdered on Saturday, December 20, 2014.

thepoet5

Let me tell you a story about how #Allhumanlivesmatters.

When you murder anyone,

You are murdering his/her family.

You are murdering that person’s could have been future.

You are murdering the community’s pulse.

You are putting a toe tag on that could have been innovations of humanity.

How many of us have cops in our families?

How many of us calls that cop our son?

How many of us calls that cop our daughter?

How many of us calls that cop our husband?

How many of us calls that cop our wife?

How many of us calls that cop our neighbor?

 

I believe that #Whitelivesmatters.

I believe that #Blacklivesmatters.

I believe that #Hispaniclivesmatters.

I actually believe that #AllHumanlivesmatters.

You don’t get to murder someone because you think

you have the right to do so.

When you murder someone, you are actually murdering your SOUL.

We are ONE SOUL after all.

There is no justification for murdering anyone.

There is no justification for murdering anyone.

You see race and economic status are just control constructs to divide people against each other.

If only DNA was judge and jury, then we would discover that all of us are ONE people.

I believe RACISM is alive and well.

RACISM is alive and well because of ignorance.

When you teach your kids to look negatively at others differences,

You create a culture of bullying.

When you believe you are better than someone, you start to

act in such a way; that puts a question mark on Humanity’s

SOUL.

OUR CHILDREN ARE WATCHING US EACH AND EVERY DAY.

We must teach them that #AllHumanlivesmatters.

Truthfully, if all this murdering continues;

Then there won’t be a human race.

Only a skull somewhere in the future, with worms and dirt lying in a forgotten jungle.

Change our HUMAN narrative.

Remember #AllHumanLivesMatters

 

(C) copyrighted

Snowflakes’ Memories in Connecticut

claudeatpeace

A coward emerged from a haunted soul

Despair won over this human soul.

The devil focused whispers of a tip toeing terrorist

Snuffed out the candles of the Many …our all…the American babies and their guardians.

 Condemned the majesty  of the stories, yet to be manifested.

Selfish and damaged ego man, with trashy intents collided to rip the smiles of the Godly United.

My heart breaks at unawares for the snow flakes and innocent stares that’ll never be seen.

Holiday blitz and hand holding moments in front of the once lighted tree now frozen in  what could have been.

Snow flakes, snowflakes, O how I miss those snowflakes that once fell slowly; so, crystallized for automatic memory capture.

 How can I go on around the chorus of the memory, as the chill of winds produces no snowflakes causality?

I stand in the vast field of snow laced what could have been within its center  a tiny grave staring back at me.

I walk towards the small tomb stone and kneel with my tears and bad leg…

I fall unexpectedly and hug the memory to our future. As I cry I see the snowflake of my grief

Knowing that my grief is the grandest starting point….

For new memories….new memories born in the continuing belief that mankind is better than this ego tragedy.

We can heal the empty spaces of human touch, with the innovation …the love…and the hope to go on.

I stand up frozen waist down and a glow of hope sustains and warms me.

The winds shall carry your snow flake memories long beyond my life time.

And always know that your songs my fellow souls will ring steady each and every day that I draw breath.

 

 

(C) copyrighted

 

‘When God Finally Came to Me!’

claudiematrix2015

 

The Sun wrote my shine!

Its soul permeates through to

the cells of my TEMPLE ME.

Then I raised my arms up

to you, Father God!

For my faith’s  knowing announced, ‘You’re Here!’

Excited was I

Of another grand SURPRISE;

That releasing miracle smile of another Sunrise.

To wake up again in

the theater of your Wise.

For this day, still unknown

to me  is the EPICENTER of my

Moment’s unfolding Destinies.

 

 

 

(C) Copyrighted

‘Amen to the Cosmic Gaze that Follows Me in My Footsteps’ Shadows.’

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Memories
live on in black and white…..
‘That’s how I remember those moments’ histories.
Shifting winds hold within
the currents of those missed
and treasured thens.
Those thens where we left our tears,
our orgasms, and teasing fears.
All of those lived breaths.
Still, with us in spirit.
The electric taste of background chatter
attends to our silhouette shadows…
Those spiritual echoes…
Whispers to us in the dwelling
spaces of healing silience.
Following behind us patiently,
as our footsteps takes its last breaths.
The quantum fuel of it’s cosmic depths.
This magical Soul of creative love
Fills my gaze with sovereign forces
of those elusive stories being birthed into being by
the unfolding cosmic mystery of these living versions of me.
Amen to the Cosmic Gaze that follows me in my footsteps’ shadows.

‘My Literary Legacy’ written by ‘The Namaste Child’ aka Claude Hill

claudierules1

I didn’t write my first short stories and poetry book just for me. I wrote my book as my legacy. I wrote it as a proud African American Male, who loves deeply his beautiful and brilliant African American people. I wrote from varying diverse perspectives. I wrote my book to demonstrate the European, African American and Hispanic influences in my life such as the wisdom of Christianity, the Buddha and various honorable peoples. I wrote to show my curiosities about nature, aging, death, and love. I wrote it to remind us that each of us are one. I wrote it for fathers and mothers, sons and daughters, and the community in general. And it is my hope that in time; when race no longer divides us; that my book is acknowledged as a literary work of art created by a human being. I may not see that day arrive in my lifetime; hopefully, the generations of humanity to come will see that ‘I am a human being.’ Not a racial classification on a government form, a thug or something to hate, but another child of God just living these moments of giving dreams. This is what I say to myself everyday, when I pray into being that blessed protected ‘Psalm 23 version of me. This is who I want to be.

– Claude Hill

Here is the link to my first poetry and short stories book entitled: I AM THE NAMASTE CHILD

‘A Prayer: Ode to a Safe Chicago for All’ written by ‘The Namaste Child aka Claude Hill

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I pray that the angel of peace blocks any harmful intent from manifesting upon the streets of Chicago. I choose to imagine angels besides you, your sons and daughters, as they journey back and forth. I can imagine the beating hearts of all of God’s children transforming into angelic deep red flaming torches; that can give cleansing light to another lonely SOUL. I believe with all my heart that the peoples of your neighborhood, my neighborhood and all neighborhoods shall know for the first time sacred peace. Let the words, ‘I am peace’ stir about in the darkest places of human hate. Let that rooted flag of peace bring us all to the Mountaintop of Sacred Brotherhood. Let the petty things. Those temporary material things fade away into that which is far behind us. Let our shared Soul lights of our still loving humanity draw strength from Divinity. For I stand in a space of gratitude because I know that God is still on the throne. Sending out the breaths of being blessed protected to all my fellow human beings and our pets. In my prayer hands’ release. Amen.

Here is a link to my first poetry and short stories book entitled….I AM THE NAMASTE CHILD

A Poet’s Dawning Breaths

In the library at Governors State University
In the library at Governors State University

‘GSUing Upon the Breaths of Now’ written by Claude Robert Hill, IV. (C) Wednesday, April 29, 2015.

The students and the surroundings are somewhat different.
However, apart of me shall always remain in this special place,
where I long ago earned my Bachelors and Masters degree.
Where student activism married my teaching philosophy;
and grew the necessary walk for me to become the professor;
that I was meant to be,
and eventually allowed me to find my writer’s voice.
A Reconstructed Voice.
A perceptual voice grown upon the fields,
where literary lilies and sunflowers
expresses itself in my flourishing curiosities.
My writers pen lies down in the reside of its incarnating words,
within those narrating imaginings…
those counted pages;
that remembers ‘who I was then’
daily manifesting as poems and short stories.
So, here I am at last.
Home again.
Back where a major part of my story began.
A sense of timelessness and family still permeates in my lasting memories.
And I must say, ‘I am HOME again!’
Just GSUing upon the breaths of Now.
where former versions of me continues to reside in its history.

Here is a link to my first poetry and short stories book entitled…I AM THE NAMASTE CHILD