Tearz of a Man
By Eric Owens

The pen in my hand
becomes one
as I open
my veins to bleed

with it....

I rinse the concrete wall
Of it's memories of faded faces

blood splattered streets..
A generation who engraved their names
on the hard rugged surface of their skin

as I write....

the knife goes deeper..
deeper into the concrete pavement
that bears the delicate scars
of my past..

my pen drips with ink...

my poetry was birthed in famine
out in the freezing rain
on the coldness of the sidewalk
with a towering blackness of a crack house
overshadowing my piece of paper

though exiled in Babylon I still write...

I wrote all through the night
with only the light reflecting from
the flames of His eyes to guide my pen...

....I just put my ear to page
and listened as the blood of Christ
cried out from the ground.