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About Street roots. (Portland, OR) 1998-current | View Entire Issue (July 8, 2016)
Street Roots • July 8-14, 2016 Page 13 Poetry Hollywood Heroes Words that Hurt by Ron Sanford by Aaron American lack of culture teaches That there are few outlets left To channel the losers of manifest destiny I write with an audience in mind. Try as I might, I cannot forget that somebody could somehow find my words, once I’ve put them to paper. Gun control is redundant, folks! Because the cat will not return to the bag Violence is the symptom of frustration I find that sometimes I want to impress the potential audience; actually most the time to tell the truth. And sometimes, wishing to impress I repress those parts of my life that I feel the audience would judge as ugly, and I amplify or even misrepresent qualities the audience would like. This can make my writing feel false to myself, and then I resent my words, so I destroy them, so that the audience can never find them. When I am unafraid to put my negative qualities in front of not only strangers, but also those I love, then I feel my writing improves. If I am writing to an actual person, and would be embarrassed if my words were by some other actual person, I get fearful. People lust, have not, therefore they murder They depend on evil and lies for their kids Outlaws have guns, few will change their ways They lived by the lust of their eyes and American pie Learned to blame the environment for their crimes How Hollywood heroes have fallen! Their mask has been shorn away Soon they will pay the piper Secrets and gossip seem to be unavoidable for me, and I’ve read that they are a way of learning what not to do. So long as I am imperfect, they will be a part of me and my words. What a computer can’t do by Jerrick Harenstein A computer can’t see from my eyes. It can’t think from the heart. It can’t restore us to sanity. It doesn’t understand me. It wouldn’t even know where to finish, or have a clue where to start. pfewaWiCwmi^aity «»wry Gw? • Sr. Johns Mais Str«? Coalition • Catfeetai If Final Summer Evening by Kareem Ali Through the endless shards of This autumn evening The drone of the ceiling fan Is swift and comforting, Its haughty mechanical arms Discard a thin elixir of wind Into the empty hall. Outside In the silent room Flakes of leaves and night Brush against your cheek Causing a lotion of light to open Up the room Where our sweat soaked Bodies submerged into a trellis Of summer moonlight. Where the final husk of night Is flushed into a memory of day. ■ 9 NOOh I Hifi TOCELEBRATETHELOWERWILLAMETTE RIVER ANO ITS CLEAN UP /B LIV ■ BLUE Logge / Cascade Crescendo, New jber DJ A e Incredible Kid JAMGRASS - ZYDECO FOO! >ORS * BEER GARDEN ENVIRON omental fair child dance tro UVE BIRDS FROM AUDUBON • LIVE FISH OR «
