Everyone expects writers to write about tragedy
when it strikes, you know?
Let the newspaper do that
Let writers give you an escape, from all that.
That’s my job.
I took that on, when I decided to hold the pen,
Like a sword, where when there are no words
I have them enough to heal a few
Or at least heal the wounds of the ones I know
The ones who read my prose,
And understand the ebb and flow
The ocean will never stop coming and going
I will never stop writing, I’ll never stop my love
Even in my coffin, I’ll still represent Boston
I am proud of my city,
And the history, all my friends and loved ones
But I don’t bow to fear.
When I think of how lost I am,
And how far I’ve come,
And how much people mean to me
And how much love I have for people
And empathy, there are no words
To really express,
Man, I am trying to write positivity
But I see the television
Bombs detonating in my city
Images are worth more then a thousand words
How about the wounded and worse?
I’m trying to write a message of hope,
But I see the pain on the faces of those
You see there is a lot of ugliness in the world
But that’s where I stop.
I just want to write poems about hip hop,
A strong culture of b boys and breaks beats putting words together
Like a wordsmith, and instead I have these images
that I have to contend with
This is crazy, blood all over the faces
Of people watching races?
I know I have the ear goggles on,
And thinking about the world we live in,
Immersed in the music again,
Leaving the fear, escaping into the atmosphere
Breathing in fresh air,
And I start to think and suddenly, my mind lets loose and I begin
Choking on the fumes,
Of gas explosions, broken bones, lost limbs
Dead children, people racing, stuck at stations
Calling my friend to hear his voice again,
Ten minutes before the first bomb went off
He finished the race
And here I am back in the rhythm of the music I am listening
I could listen to the bullshit on the social network
But I am a poet this is my work.
My heart goes out to everyone hurt,
Everyone disrupted and displaced,
Who just wanted to run a race,
A legendary tale to tell their kids,
A day to remember
But not like this. It shouldn’t of gone down like this.
God Bless Boston,
Loved ones be loved,
Kiss your loved ones
Hold them close,
Cause you only got this one road…
And no one knows how long it goes for…
I love my city, there are no words.
Peace and Love Boston.
hello, why don’t you go an interview pat bartavian on boylston st. and do an interview that would do justice to her, I’m sure she would have some interesting thoughts on the events that occurred yesterday, her building was so close, and she was probably watching the marathon, just thinking of all that she has experienced in her lifetime,it would be a great diversion from all this sadness.
I thought of her yesterday as well
how did you meet Pat? Please share your story 🙂