The Hills..


 
Tough ready an old-time ‘hood..folks in life do bad or good..know streets there and

When we grow up we will be…

party

ways..music nights surfin’ days..smokin’ weed some drink cerveza Linda Vista on the mesa..school there Jr. Hi learned to  fight run laugh and cry

 
Stories old told in jest..then punched out a little ‘test’..fair is fair as air  is clear..extract of life..no lies told here..pretty mornings each one seen..girl with baby at thirteen..find a man to get away..’won’t  get far’ is what some say,.

All the wonder..all the if..Stringer snitched thrown off a cliff..housing cheap from time of war..orphans live there rob the store..all grow up..with heart and mind..the path learned..what they could find..performed well..like old ‘Chill Wills’ when boys come down from those hills..

Going out..shirt to stich..to the Jewell where the rich..live by ocean..story sung..same dreams dreamed when I was young..not color or social scene curious but never mean..want to grow..want to learn..when young bridges  must be burned..

Like a family..like a club..like four kittens in the tub..like stars shining in the sky..well plucked guitar a moan a cry..like first love or deep rich fern..live or die is what to learn..every let down..every thrill..each second lived..up in those hills..

Each young person a hero for heros are loved..Peace Tony

©AC.dp.31.3.11.allrightsrerved.wpls

  

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About cryinforthedyin

I write philosophy and poetry. I postulate solutions for problems..I find similiar things in history to compare to present day, hoping to find a solution to the seemingly difficult task of giving and receiving love. I play music. Blues harp, piano, guitar, electric and acoustic. I sing..I love to sing..Peace Tony
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