Situations 14

Writings from the AIDS Service Center NYC Creative Writing Workshop spring 2012

SITUATIONS14 Situations is a literary magazine containing the writings of participants in the Creative Writing Workshop at AIDS Service Center NYC (ASCNYC).

The ASCNYC Creative Writing Workshop promotes medication adherence, stress reduction, sustained recovery from substance abuse, and healthy behaviors by offering a forum for self-awareness, social engagement, empowerment, and self-expression among persons living with and affected by HIV/AIDS. The ASCNYC Creative Writing Workshop is funded by a grant from the Phil Zwickler Charitable and Memorial Foundation Trust. The printing of Situations is made possible by the generous support of the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration (SAMHSA). ASCNYC extends thanks to these funding sources for demonstrating the vision and commitment to support creative programming for people living with and affected by HIV/AIDS. Founded in 1990, ASCNYC provides a continuum of individualized services that promote empowerment, well-being and stability for New Yorkers living with and affected by HIV/AIDS. Through our peer education, access to healthcare, and safe-practice counseling services, ASCNYC programs promote positive change, self-respect, personal responsibility and connection to community.

Each year, we help more than 14,000 NYC residents get the second chance they need to take charge of their health and reclaim their lives. ASCNYC has four community centers in Union Square, East Harlem, Washington Heights and the East Village. All ASCNYC services are free, confidential and offered in English, Spanish, and French/Haitian Creole.

Workshop Leader & Situations Editor: Gerry Gomez Pearlberg Publication Design: Talo Kawasaki Author Photos: David Nager ASCNYC Poetry Leaders: Rufino Colón, Rosa Velez, and Robert E. Lee ASCNYC Executive Director: Sharen Duke Special thanks to: Brooke Brailey, Ramona Cummings, and Rebecca O’Neill

Copyright © 2012 by AIDS Service Center NYC 41 East 11th Street, New York City, NY 10003 All rights revert to the authors upon publication.

CONTENTS Introduction

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Poems by Diane Dawson

5

Poems by Rosa Velez

8

Poems by Jhon Sanchez

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Poems by monté

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Poems by Grace (a.k.a. Poetic)

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Poems by Luther Jarman

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Poems by Rufino Colón

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Poems by Dudley Koonce

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Poems by Linda Francis

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Poems by Iris Elizabeth Sankey-Lewis

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Poems by Chardelle Imani Lassiter

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Poems by Tracye Wroten

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Poems by D.H.

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Poems by Robert E. Lee

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Poems by PHosure F

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Poems by Ashley Johnson

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Poems by L.L.

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Poem by Andre Mothersill

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Poem by John James Pearsall

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Poems by Kevin

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Poems by Fred Street

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Poems by John Pinkney

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“I love this workshop.

You can hear yourself think!” introduction Recently, a member of the ASCNYC Creative Writing Workshop spoke with deep enthusiasm about the importance of finding a sanctuary where he could be with his thoughts and emotions in a quiet, focused way.

His comment illuminates the valuable contribution the Creative Writing Workshop makes to the process of healing, recovery, and health maintenance: the opportunity to give our inner selves a chance to speak and to calmly concentrate on important matters that are sometimes pushed to the side in the face of more pressing demands.

As you’ll see throughout this issue of Situations, these “important matters” cover a lot of ground—learning to set healthy priorities; letting go of secrets and the damaging patterns they bring; coping with HIV in the context of an aging body; wrestling with addiction; confronting discrimination with courage; and facing loss with grace.

These poems are also joyous celebrations—of finding delight in everyday things, creating community, cultivating compassion for self and others, overcoming mental and physical barriers of all kinds, and growing clearer about what really matters in life.

Writing poetry is, in a very direct sense, a way of “hearing yourself think.” I’m sure, as you explore the work of the 22 excellent poets represented here, you’ll agree these are thoughts well worth sharing and holding on to.

Gerry Gomez Pearlberg Workshop Leader

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Poems by

Diane Dawson

Ode to Rehab Wants & Needs I want 5 million dollars.

I need $25,000.

I want to be loved by a man.

I need to love myself first.

I want to get high right now!

I need to focus on my recovery.

I want to be in the spotlight again.

I need to fall back, and stay in the shadows.

Sometimes I want to hurt people.

I need to figure out why.

I want to lose weight.

I need to eat right and exercise.

I want to say what’s on my mind.

I need to think before I speak.

I want what I want when I want it.

I need to practice patience.

I want to jump into the ocean.

I need to learn how to swim.

I want a boyfriend.

I need a companion.

I want, I want, I want...

I need to get a life.

Oops, I already have one!

I need to stand for something, or else I will fall for anything.

Dawn, fall to my knees to pray, Sun is rising, looking out my window, I see the snow-covered mountains, pine trees as far as the eye can see, a hawk glides by my window, the sky is red then it slowly turns blue.

Shower, get dressed, sitting at my desk with writer’s block, I smell coffee, I leave my sanctuary, enter the dining room, I say good morning to the personalities, pouring myself a cup of decaffeinated coffee, cursing under my breath, yearning for a real cup of coffee & a cigarette, breakfast is served, meds are swallowed, bell rings.

Groups: AA, NA, Daily Inventory, Anger Management, Stress Management, Sober Recreation, Healthy Endings, over & over & over again—30 days straight.

Feelings, mourning the dead, soul-searching, crying, anger, guilt, temptation, humility, gratitude— an emotional rollercoaster ride, back & forth, up & down, finally surrendering & accepting sobriety. Whew! What a ride!

Emerging from my 30-day sanctuary with a certificate in my hand & tears in my eyes, so hard to say goodbye to my peers, must restart my life.

Anxiety is on the rise. On the bus ride back to Manhattan, as the bus enters the city, I smile, looking at the city through sober eyes for the first time in 20 years, I now know that anything is possible.

Hi, my name is Diane & I am an addict.

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Poems by

Diane Dawson

Rituals Negative Check Day: Wake up like a fireman, 1½ hours of sleep, in the same clothes for 7 days, no underwear, no bra, no socks, dead of winter, no soap, no water. Head for the check-cashing, 7:55 a.m., opens at 8 a.m., second in line (SHIT!) get my HASA cash, call my dealer (FUCK!) he still sleeping, go to the deli, buy a 6-pack of Cobra, pack of Newports, call a couple more dealers (BINGO!), run home, enter my room, lock the door, load, sizzle, burn, bell ringing, head banging, hot flashes, scrape, over & over & over again, repeat this process until I’m broke, eat everything I can get my hands on, crash, wake up in the same clothes....

Positive Check Day: Wake up, 8 hours of sleep, listening to Steve Harvey, make a cup of coffee & breakfast, wash dishes, take a shower, put on clean clothes & fresh Nikes. Head for the check-cashing, 7:55 a.m., opens at 8 a.m., second in line (COOL!), get my HASA cash & stamps, buy a carton of cigarettes, pay my cable & Internet bill, go to Pathmark, food galore, go to ASC, interact with peers at the Creative Writing Workshop, go home, make dinner, watch my HD flat screen TV, chain smoke Newports, pop a Seroquel, say my prayers. Good night.

Damn, what a difference!!

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Poems by

Diane Dawson Medieval Why must these disturbing dreams invade my mind? Disfigured demons sticking me with pitchforks, mocking me, I try to escape but my feet are stuck on human flypaper, nowhere to run, so I take the pain. So easy to commit murder & decapitation in this world, with my sword in my hand & the taste of blood in my mouth, I am invincible, slaying these demons, delivering the death blow at my will, I am a woman possessed by warriors of my past, my eyes are black, I am strong, but they keep coming, relentless devils, death & destruction are closing in on me, skulls & bones crunch under my feet, I can feel the heat from the Dragon’s nostrils as I fight for my life, I look around & I notice I am fighting this battle alone. Then all of sudden I wake up, I am sweaty, confused & my arms hurt. I am that scared little girl again, crying in the darkness.

To Me Happiness to me is a good piece of steak.

Happiness to me is music, all forms and genres, especially the ’80s.

Happiness to me is being able to wake up every morning.

Happiness to me is looking at a tree or a flower and capturing its picture.

Happiness to me is the smell of fresh-baked bread.

Happiness to me is that first cig and cup of coffee at 6 a.m.—so peaceful.

Happiness to me is watching Cable TV. Happiness to me is a good NA meeting.

Happiness to me is being held and having my head scratched.

Happiness to me is having someone tell me it’s gonna be alright when I wake up screaming.

Happiness to me is hearing him say, “I love you.”

Happiness to me is locking my door and shutting out the outside world.

If I can find happiness in all these things…

Why am I so sad?

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Poems by

Rosa Velez

Crystal Dome (Dedicated to ASC)

I’ve found sadness in the fullest of places Frowns on clowns That never end.

Fears like rivers That are heaven-sent.

Carefully, I listen Within the Crystal Dome...

Carefully Waiting like a hummingbird Batting my wings—quickly, invisibly Trying not to shatter the Crystal Dome.

The Crystal Dome A home For the multitude of faces Faces of all races Fighting, crying, hoping For an end to this race.

A race we have begun in the Battle of AIDS, In the battle of addiction, In the battle of abuse.

How much more Can we endure Under the Crystal Dome???

The Crystal Dome This home, I’ve said...

Where K-man shares his sweet temptations His fears of men Who’ve shattered his senses Walls now built Like broken fences.

Where Darlene comes And shares her parfait But doesn’t dare to share Her dreams.

Where are her dreams?

Where did they go??

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The addiction demon Has taken control.

Then there is Wayne, Where a sudden smile Glistens in his eyes Speaking of a moment With his daughter…in disguise...

Remembering his daughter …vividly Yet again lost in the sleepiness of His addictions.

He dozes off, a tear smears his eyes— He’s up again And the moment gleams across His face again.

His beautiful daughter His only daughter Under the Crystal Dome.

Do I dare to share My fears My hopes The pain we all reflect As prisms Under the Crystal Dome???

No. Not yet.

Not yet.

If this Crystal Dome Was to shatter, Like it’s done in the past, Fragmented pieces We would become.

But then again…

That was the past.

Softly, I imagine An invisible force Gluing all these pieces together as one.

As it happens We have become As shining stars Within the universe.

No longer do we cry But sympathize Enduring this pain We hold tight to our dreams, Our hopes, that our friends Will continue To make us smile, To make us dream, To make us want to live again.

“Within the Crystal Dome, I’ve found a home.”

Poems by

Rosa Velez Poetry Is Our Music I heard the bird chirp by the window, spring is near, such a sound of relief…

No longer will the chill Freeze my windowpane No longer will the branches Swing their skeleton arms No longer will I close my window To keep out the winter somberness My heart is warming The sun is shining in my soul A light suddenly brightens the hidden words that were budding to come out.

A single naked rose opens her petals Embraces the summer wind That makes her sing And like the bird, I too sing….Poetry is our Music.

At Times... I Remember At times I stand around— acting like I’m me all fancied out, shimmering like a star…

Yet memories of this being are very much afar— At times I could feel The wind ripping through my hair as the horse that runs wildly, running with no fear…

At times I can remember feeling…nothing but Joy…

Joy to the world and

Joy with the world.

Joy… Joy… Joy— At times, I Remember.

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Poems by

Jhon Sanchez “Remember the Dot,” Said My Doctor A dot under my lower lip Purple touch that grows With my tongue and words The storm of wine tasting Those kisses for now are fear An apple disarranges its roundness, soiled on my kitchen table Neither apt for the knowledge tree nor for a sinful bite Lipstick to accept death but not the end of beauty If at least our shroud-skin would linger red like sun dried tomatoes.

Revival of a Night Visit January, mild rainy day A bag on these shoulders of 28 years, close to midnight Guilt twinkles my door is open, “Have you eaten?”

Broccoli, and a can of tuna, some fruit The sweat of four days, I ask you to leave in the shower Once those fresh drops emanated straight to my delight “Did you have some drinks?”

No lies this time No beating of my voice The boots on the steamer And my house-rules of cover beds and wearing shirts at the table Questions without sex or saliva Time to sleep Breakfast, the sugarcane beverage of smiles Reading my name on a book and this face of admiration A reminder that you did not raise your nose high enough I make you sit like a client looking for legal advice, instead of mere compassion Has justice dusted off my fingerprints from your skin?

My declaration that “Guests break my routine,” and I forget about the winter I closed another door behind you Feeling caresses of that beard along my spine Should I have never pictured you the secrets of my blood?

A narrative transfusion of fears Pose for the death row at 28th birthday Prune the basil before any blossom Sprinkle the spice in that portrait Before the spider weaves a web around your eyes 10

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Poems by

Monté If you want to I’ll take you back To our younger years Just AZT People dropping like flies Memorials weekly Ostracizing Make sure you bring Your own Dixie-Ware

A Little Re Poem Recuperate, Relax, Reassess Regenerate, Rejuvenate, Reevaluate, Rethink, Restart, Release— Realize how good God is!

Take Time 2 Take time to find out what’s going on with your brothers & sisters Stop & question a smile, a furrowed brow, an angry or distracted look— That look one gets of being far, far away

Obsidian For years you’ve been telling me “Don’t—you can’t, it won’t” And yet I still thrive (some days more than is to be expected) I think part of what gives me Passion and pleasure in life Is going against the grain Proving you wrong, being contrary To the so-called, so-called Situations14

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Poems by

Grace (a.k.a. Poetic )

Thank You “Thanks” can mean many things: I am saying thank you for the hard lessons I’ve learned.

I’m saying thank you for the love most have shown me.

I’m saying thank you for forgiving my mistakes.

Let me say thank you for the harm and the hurt that have been imposed upon me— now I have learned the meaning of forgiveness.

I must forgive in order to be forgiven.

Thank you! Thank you!

Not just saying “Thank you”— Being truly thankful.

All That I Am I am a part of the things that bring the Earth joy— I am the sky because I can see the clouds, I am the sea because I can float on its water.

I am a bird—I may not fly, but I can climb high in the trees in which birds live— I am all that I say I am.

You may see me and yet not see me, but still I am. I too am a creation.

I see, I smell, I talk, I hear—my heart beats as nature grows.

I must feed as the wolf, the fish flows for all, to feed the river, flows for all to wash and survive.

I am who I am. I will be what I am created to be: human, but truly alive.

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Poems by

Grace (a.k.a. Poetic ) Darkness, Sunlight I was born out of Darkness.

I came into the light.

Because my skin is dark, Why must I fight?

I see the light at the end of the dark.

Can’t you see me? My heart has light— If you open the door of my dark, you will see the light, dark as night, bright as day. We live together each and every day. I pray you see the light in me and let my dark skin be free.

You can’t see me through the dark, but if you open your heart, my light will see: We both are beautiful, in the night and in the day.

The Good Ole Me The older I get the more I notice the outrageous beauty of stars and moon against the sky, the softness of a baby’s skin.... the less panicky I am on a restless night, the kinder I am with weakness, the more honest I am with myself... the less rigid I am, the more hugs I give, the gentler I am with myself, the closer I feel to friends, the more natural prayers seem...the more I pray, the less I think about what other people think the younger I feel in spirit, the quieter I am in my inner self, the greater my appreciation for harmony, the more comfortable I am with solitude, the more good I see coming out of difficulties, the more grateful I am to be alive....

The older I become, the more beautiful I am inside, and the ole me is now a new me.

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Poems by

Luther Jarman

Returning to Your Addiction That Monkey on Your Back The time will come when you will want a drink.

But you must always think How it made your life a living hell How you wound up in jail The time will come when your love jones will come down And you’ll be chasing every girl in town But you must remember how it made Your life a living hell And you wound up in jail The time will come when you eat like a pig And get real big You say, “There’s nothing wrong with eating food And being in a mellow mood”— But you eat ten chicken legs And you need to see Jenny Craig Read the Bible or Science Fiction But don’t return to your addiction.

I Rise to a Greater Life I refuse to lose I refuse to have the blues I refuse to beg with a cup I refuse to give up I rise to a Greater Life I was on my back Smoking crack Looking like a sad sack Being drunk everyday Throwing my life away I just have one thing to say: I rise to a Greater Life Once I was insane Sleeping on park benches and trains I couldn’t stay sober for an hour But God blessed me with bounce-back power I ain’t found no girlfriend or wife But I rise to a Greater Life

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Poems by

Luther Jarman Hi-Tech Gods Worshipping your Hi-Tech gods Smart phones and iPods Tweeting, twitting, and E-mail— Is there a Hi-Tech hell below?

Then we all are going to go!

We all are going to go!

I Gotta Write a Dope Poem!

I gotta write a dope poem But I’d rather write a love, peace, and hope poem Buy a bar of soap poem Try to get over the hump poem Don’t go out of the year a chump poem A jump, jump, jump poem A find a new life poem A find a good wife poem A bright and sunny poem A make more money poem I gotta write a dope poem But I’d rather write a love, peace, and hope poem

Peace Run! Run Fast!

You never can outrun that voodoo demon on your ass.

Try to keep my number in.

I know gambling is a sin.

I need to get me a hit.

White folks talking about blowing up shit.

I have two raggedy bibles I read.

They tell me God will supply all my needs.

Ezekiel saw the wheel in the middle of a wheel.

Life is short and hell is real.

I take my magic pill Because I like the way it makes me feel.

As I create my masterpiece I cross my arms and face the east.

Then I pray for Peace.

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Poems by

Rufino Colón

Night!

Night! When the ceiling of the world bursts into a spectacular festival of dancing diamonds.

Night! When lovers whisper things that can only be understood by the heart.

Night! When the heart sees its dreams come true in its lover’s eyes.

Night! When words are not needed to say I love you.

Night! When the heart in love, and the broken heart, dream of a new tomorrow.

Night! When God reassures us we’ll be all right as He tucks us in with His gentle and loving hands.

Goodnight—the final hello.

Another Day Another day in New York City’s damn rat race.

Another day, riding the Iron Monster, some damn fool stepping on my foot, then looking at me like I’m suppose to say “I’m sorry.”

Idiot!

Another day, taking this damn medication.

Damn, I wish there was another way!

Another day, losing weight without changing my diet, asking myself, “Is this the beginning of the end?”

Another day, being lonely and pretending I’m not.

Another day, going to the doctor. Damn, I’m tired.

Another day of waking up— wait a minute, I did wake up... a lot of people didn’t this morning.

Another day of thanking God for another day.

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Poems by

Rufino Colón

Who Knows When There are those of us who are so afraid to die— We forget to live.

There are those of us who think they’re never going to die— Who die too soon.

My Baby A dog lies on the bed with her head on the pillow as she tells her servant, “Have a nice day!”

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Poems by

Dudley Koonce Born Again

I Die and Resurrect I die whenever I find myself involved in anything negative that can control me.

Such as using drugs, committing crimes against my people and society. I die.

I die when I give up my freedom, self-esteem, pride, and respect. I’ve gone from killing myself to resurrecting myself with the strength to fight and live my life, until the end.

A chance at a new life, a new beginning— can it compare to anything else?

If so, name it for me.

I can see clearly now, the fog has been lifted.

I know who I am and what I have come to be, and that all the choices are left up to me.

I’m “born again.”

My life anew, is full of decisions.

If choosing now, I can say there is no such thing as a wrong answer in action. Why? Because I’m born again.

It feels so good to know who I am: That I can instead of can’t.

Knowing myself can be the best thing that ever happened to me.

I’m born again.

Born again, and free.

Poem What would one call a “Poem”?

Would it rhyme?

Would it be your thoughts put together for this particular reason?

Will it speak of love, hate, and fear?

I’ve been told that a poem is the expression of one’s thoughts and emotions.

When it’s all said and done, a poem is one’s creation— inner thoughts and emotions, put down with passion.

Nature’s Beauty Nature. What is it? Where does it come from?

Have you ever really paid attention to what Nature is?

Something that has nothing but beauty, within and outside it.

Why would someone want to destroy it?

There is no excuse that can justify destruction.

If only we would take the time to understand what we come from.

To me, man is mastering the attributes of nature.

I was once in darkness but now I can see the light, and trust me, if there is such a thing as beauty, then I have to say it is Nature.

Funny as it may seem, it’s everywhere.

All you have to do is open your eyes and you shall see.

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Poems by

linda Francis

Things Could Be Worse I am the endorphin in your brain.

I am the blood in your veins.

I am the majority of what your body consists of.

I am the eyes that make you glad or sad.

I am the fresh air that you have allowed me to breathe.

I am the shoes that you have provided me with the perfect feet for— one left, one right.

Things could be worse.

What Kind of Person My mother had 11 children, but only 5 of us lived, due to the fact that 6 of the children were born underweight and premature.

I lost my oldest sister at 42 years of age due to malpractice, and my brother at 24 years old due to a car accident.

I just knew that I wouldn’t survive past the age of 42.

That’s when I started the excess of drinking, smoking marijuana, being promiscuous, and spending my whole check before I got it.

But see, little did I know that I would still be here at 65 years of age.

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Poems by

Iris Elizabeth Sankey-Lewis

When Blues or Boredom Strikes Take a snooze and wake up Saying yes to actions of worth, Fresh your mind at ease Your walk brisk with exercise, Be kind to you and someone else Read the Bible and Oprah Magazine, Or simply read, write, or hum a tune.

Think things through with visualization Rather than working at them randomly.

Pennies saved are pennies earned For family, friends, strangers, and you.

Listen to your body when eating So as to stay clear of uncomfortable gorging.

Find you soft-spoken folks They’ll make you want for more of Their soothing voice.

Get in touch with family, friends, or acquaintances By phone or cards just because.

Be at peace with you and me And see laughter as aphrodisiac.

Did You Know Did you know?

Thoughts you hold Can make you strong Or steer you wrong?

Did you know?

That in your hand Is a magic wand?

To wake up your world With joy and wonder?

Do you pray?

With the rising sun Or do you chase the North Wind That blows things asunder?

Have you weighed The weight of things You need? For your Measure becomes your treasure.

Did you know?

You’re like a decorated door Created with your own key?

See to it!

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Poems by

Iris Elizabeth Sankey-Lewis Ode to Freedom Nelson Mandela while imprisoned Basked in spiritual freedom.

Our mind, rich in untold wealth Beckons us to partake, With thinking and spiritual awakening, How gratifying changing the way We look at things.

True freedom is a gift we tend to abuse Like responsibilities attached.

Don’t drop the gift, Freedom is a state of mind.

Silence #1 I never knew silence with such power Until love of writing clearly spoke; It shed new light on many things, Like fresh scent of silence permeating Where I hear it serenading like stress-slayer.

To Be Inspired To be inspired To let silence lead the way As you see sights Within and out Of yesterday Of yesteryears, You’ll hear in any atmosphere Your conscience clear You’ll feel what triggers glee, Look at life’s flow of beauty In spaces undisguised.

What Fifty Said When I was young I owned the world.

I walked half-dressed in winter’s cold.

I suffered like mercury crushed.

I went forth too numb to learn to touch.

Now I am old and the world is young.

What can’t be relived must be newly sprung.

I strain at lessons fit for medication I go to school to wake to attention.

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Poems by

Chardelle Imani Lassiter

Stones

It’s About Time

Stones are poems Written in, well, stone

All at one Little by little Time warps Time whittles All things away Time takes its time Day by day.

A stone is Nature’s clock made of rock is Creation’s safe with no obvious lock Stones are stuffed with secrets, and empty of regrets

Overdose(d)

Short Story

OVERSTIMULATE(D) OVERMEDICATE(D) OVERWHELM(ED) OVER(CONSUMPTION) OVERCHARGED OVERDUE OVERWORK(ED) OVERKILL

Intent decides Content: Decide: Hellbent or Heavensent

High Coup

Blowhard

Sensibilities scorched Life wages war No holds barred

Poeming Poeming Is Spirit Foaming From the Mouth Of the Mind.

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scarred

Whatever the Eternal Weather Whether the Weather be Storming Or Clear My Insides Twist Like Raging Tornadoes Because You’re Not Here.

Poems by

Tracye Wroten

Patience What is this phrase?

How do you obtain it?

Why do we need it?

Where can I buy it?

I know I don’t have it.

I will strive to achieve it!

Patience.

Lovely Day, Lovely Day I’m really hoping that I have a lovely day.

Lovely day...

How will I avoid all the negativity around me?

Lovely day...

Sometimes, it’s just too fuckin’ hard.

Lovely day...

But with the help of my inner circle I’ll have a lovely day.

Still Things are always moving— trains, planes, buses, people— My mind is always racing.

I am physically here, there, and everywhere.

Recently, I found out that it’s OK to be still.

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Poems by

D.H.

My Soul At night when I lay down I get a sense of peacefulness... when my soul leaves my body as my breath keeps my heart pumping.

Stones Part 2 1. I love all kinds of stones (colorful) stones.

When I’m home alone.

2. I stare at the stones when I’m home.

3. Feeling sad and alone. But I know there’s hope when I look into that stone.

Surgery Today I’m having surgery.

God is standing next to me.

My family doesn’t want anything to do with me.

Things will get better, you’ll see.

But yet and still, God stands next to me.

Amen.

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Poems by

Robert E. Lee

Living the Good Life Is when you actually realize that some things are very hard to achieve.

And in a matter of time you’ll see that what was in the past is a great treasure to have again.

See, just because you know the pleasure of gaining— or regaining—something, you understand how joyful certain things are in life.

So regardless of the difficulties, have a trained mind on all of your accomplishments.

Be Harder than Hard Some things in a person’s life have such a strong grasp.

It occupies too much of a pull on your thinking process.

Because you eventually realize how much it’s going to take to overcome the problem.

So just don’t look at it as a hard thing to get through, but look at it as you being harder than hard.

All of Them Sure, people try to put their opinion on others.

But don’t forget it’s only known as hearsay.

See, we all take certain things to mind, but only you can really determine what’s up to your standard.

Because in a very caustic way, we are all of them.

Now don’t be entrapped by anyone else’s thoughts but your very own.

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Poems by

Robert E. Lee

Proclaiming Sure, all cultures were given life.

But unfortunately all of them didn’t want to accept all-out equality.

See, throughout history there have been people that verbally put their foot down.

And this great man knew that it was going to be extremely difficult to overcome racism, but he understood it was going be conquered eventually.

He knew that if he put down a hard steppingstone, someone else would follow his lead and make one also.

An Enduring Light Like the Heavenly Father said, Let there be light.

Now that doesn’t mean you’re actually seeing the sun shine all day long.

You can even feel somewhat gloomy about something serious.

An enduring light within is like when you are so totally consumed in thought, you close your eyes knowing that it’s going to be completely dark— but you close them anyway, because you’re searching for a small, glimmering light.

And eventually, when you figure out how to reach it, you truly understand that things can get much better if you shed some of your own brightness.

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Poems by

PHosure F

Fear Fear is what really scares me Not knowing what is what Seeing and seeing nothing Frightened of what’s in your mind And you can’t touch it or get close to it And it still sees you, and still it knows where you are at, At all times.

OK, so stand up to fear And fear will let you go, Just tell fear who’s the boss And that you are not making any deals—

I Remember!

I remember Santa Claus.

I remember playing marbles.

I remember catching bees.

Do you remember your first snowball?

Do you remember your first kite?

Do you remember catching your first fish?

Do you remember your first bike?

Have you ever went camping or on a spiritual retreat, or a sports event?

Do you remember going to the zoo?

Do you remember being on the swings, sliding boards, monkey bars?

Do you remember getting free Con Ed baseball tickets?

Do you remember May Day, when you wore white and received a lunchbox that was white?

The playground’s teacher was named Jimmy.

Do you remember seeing the trees naked?

Do you remember the colors yellow, brown, and orange?

Then you remember now—you can find a shady tree.

Do you remember “Moses,” “Roots,” “Imitation of Life,” and “Miracle on 34th Street”?

Do you remember your first punishment, your first girlfriend, or skip, or boo-boo?

Does your first job come to mind?

Do you remember saying your prayers before eating and going to sleep?

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Poems by

Ashley Johnson

Dear HIV Dear HIV, I’m writing to you to let you know I am not afraid. You don’t control me. It’s my job and duty to control you. You are not my friend nor enemy. I see you more as a consequence, a curse. I put it on myself not doing things I was supposed to do.

But, I live and learn. I know that you will never stop, so therefore I won’t. You will not be the cause of my death. I will not suffer because of you. You need me to live, though I can live without you. Since I lost the battle of preventing you, the war of stopping you has just begun.

Writing to the Girl in the Mirror I thank you for letting me know how good I look every morning.

You remind me of my worth: that I may mean something to somebody, but that I mean something more to myself.

I thank you for letting me share and vent how I feel whenever I’m having a bad day, even though you never talk back.

A lot of people may think I’m crazy talking to you, but they need to understand that even though your friends and family may be there for you, there’s someone who will never leave your side—and that’s Your Self.

Love Love is an indescribable feeling to someone appealing. A lustful adventure between two people. But yet love can be such an evil thing. It brings so much pain and heartache. Sometimes it’s just not worth the headache. Love is so blind you can’t see what’s in front of you, don’t even have a clue of what’s around you. Love can make you so blue you want to throw up. Love is what you make it to be. I write what love means to me. We all have our ups and downs but it’s love that turns your life around.

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Poems by

l.l.

The Star Hello it’s me, wake up Sir— It’s your life, can’t you see, yesterday Is gone, now is the time, tomorrow isn’t Here yet, so let the bad lay dead Just stay alert so not to go back To the dim light, instead remember That you’re a star that holds a tremendous light To brighten the world as well as yourself.

Remember that you are the lead player That without you, there is no show You are a star—fear, sorrow, and anger Have no part in this movie, Because you’re The star.

Life It’s your life, so cherish it.

Strive to achieve above all.

Appreciate your freedom. Never give up.

Don’t fail your mind and you’ll see the true ode of freedom.

Awake Listen, Humanity: We all breathe the same air, we all have dreams, We all smile, and we all cry.

We all feel sorrow and joy.

We also cherish our future, Our children’s well-being and health.

We all are mortal and we need to learn to coexist.

We need to understand each other And learn from each other— We are a reflection of one another.

Awake, my Brother, my Sister, My fellow humans— Awake! Awake!

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Poem by

Andre Mothersill

Secrecy I wonder why we become the holders of these untold stories.

It lives inside our bellies, coming up to the surface like a drunk throwing up in the bathroom.

The pain it carries is sometimes unbearable, making you want to scream into the silence.

I tell God my secrets, and sometimes my therapist.

It releases oxygen to my body and I can breathe again.

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Poem by

John James Pearsall The newborn Corn flake leaves— Dust blowing in the wind

Poems by

Kevin Thanks When I open my eyes and say, “What have I today?”

If the sun falls and all hell comes my way— I can only pray— Tell me why I should not give thanks: Thanks 4 the joy!

Thanks 4 the sun!

Thanks 4 self!

Thanks 4 the chance to overcome!

Beautiful Spring Day The sun is warm The rain has fallen The birds have made love I have cried.

If she doesn’t come soon I am go to die Love finds Peace Cause it’s a beautiful spring day!

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31

Poems by

Fred Street Morning I awoke this morning and was complimented with another day —Amen— I’m going outside now— to find a friend— none could be found —Now— I’m going outside, again— to be a friend— and they were everywhere To be and to find compliments

a day

Write, Write, Write Its ability to describe, produce, expand, integrate, take hold, continue to influence life, generation after generation...

Just to know that I can write is Pure Joy. To restore a thought and recall that thought is magnificent.

A gesture of kindness Could shatter a denial into a positive overview of self.

To mend a tear in the relationship.

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Poems by

Fred Street Brothers & Sisters Infected—Affected— Sunrise—Sunset— There’s help.

Just ask ASC NYC. Inhale/Exhale— the breeze captures and caresses my face, turning toward tomorrow.

Impressions, unfocused emotions, cause for clarity.

Stark beauty encompasses seduction of a culture.

Prayers always seem fresh to me— Enlightenment dispels Anxiety— A universe exposed— Friendships—Respect United with admiration of ourselves.

A diamond, yet not exposed to light.

Breath of Life Consciousness of my thoughts—like leaves floating down a river.

The imagery that determines the progress toward my goals.

The impersonal gives way to personal touch—when I take my packages off the seat next to me, So that someone can sit down.

To reach out with a personal touch—acknowledge— our best is being the love of God in expressions.

Being fully present in each moment I live.

We’re one breath away from No Breath.

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Poems by

John PiNkney When Angels Call When Angels call, a loved one, a friend, or a family member passes: When Angels call— For they are not gone forever: When Angels call— Do not be sad or mad: When Angels call— And never say goodbye: When Angels call For you, they will always be in our hearts: When Angels call— Just smile!! When Angels call— And say to yourself and others: When Angels call That we miss and love you; When Angels call And that we will meet again; When Angels call And we will hold hands and smile again; When Angels call May God Bless All; When Angels call.

Just an Evergreen Tree Some of us are like an Evergreen.

Always with love that never dies Always green and alive.

An everlasting love that’s tall and wonderful.

Like a redwood, strong like an oak They stand tall. Sometimes they stand Alone, sometimes with others, Telling us that we have choices!!

Love creates our lifestyle Like some autumn trees that seem to die At the end of the year.

Yet! Love is a powerful thing That never dies.

Love teaches us to accept ourselves and to survive like the Evergreen.

Let it flow and know love never dies— Like the Evergreen.

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AIDS Service Center NYC (ASCNYC) helps thousands of men and women affected by AIDS and other chronic illnesses get the second chance they need to take charge of their health and reclaim their lives. Since 1990, ASCNYC has been designing and implementing innovative peer education, access to healthcare, and safe-practice counseling services that foster self-respect, personal responsibility and connection to community.

We annually help more than 14,000 NYC residents make a positive change in their lives.

41 East 11th Street 5th Floor New York, NY 10003 212.645.0875 www.ascnyc.org