Inheritance (Writing as Black Angel)

Photo taken from the WEB

I originate from the land where everything goes wrong.

Devious children amputate the wings of butterflies

And trap them in glass jars with no airway channels.

Mothers with displaced emotions proceed with no warning

To strike off-spring with closed palms.

 

There is no hope in my hometown.

The streetlights fade out and shadows dominate.

Zombies run amuck, paying homage to defeat.

I am the only one who resembles a human being.

 

I originate from the land of the abandoners.

Selfish fathers ignore paternal duties

And go on long prison stints.

Ambitious brothers leave behind siblings

To give chase to the honey jar.

 

There is no hope in my hometown.

The streetlights fade out and shadows suffocate.

Zombies run amuck, paying homage to retreat.

I am the only one who resembles a human being.

 

© 2013 by Charles Banks, Jr.

Writing as Black Angel.

Shadow in the Midnight

Shadow in the Midnight (Writing as Black Angel) was published online at Cadence Collective: Long Beach Poets

Cadence Collective: Long Beach Poets

By Charles Banks Jr.
(A Rewrite)

Black I am, and I am hiding
from the man with the black beater in hand
and the shiny badge on his chest.
He is relentless in his pursuit
of finding and locking me up.

I hide in the alleyways
with overflowing dumpsters
that have been neglected
like most black men.
I have never pointed the finger of blame
but now my hand may be forced.

As I see the truth
while knelt down on the cracked alley floor
avoiding the racist white cop
I have come to the realization that
life is unfair
and it never will be fair and just.

One of the many sad realizations
we have to face in America.
I never completely understood why
foreigners’ longed to come here.

Everything that’s printed in books
advertised in magazines, shot on film,
sensationalized in music
slant the truth.

People are not…

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Announcement (10/17/2013)

Hey followers! Two days ago I received an e-mail that informed me that three poems from my last book Concrete Promises will be published in an international anthology of love poems. I will post information once the anthology is complete. Also, I’ll post the three selected poems! It is always a humbling experience to get published, I admit. Again, thank you all for continuing to read my blog.

If you are interested in reading excerpts from my book Concrete Promises, feel free to do so. Also, if you wish to buy the ebook copy, head on over to Lulu.com!

http://spiltinkpoetry.wordpress.com/

 

– Charles Banks, Jr.

 

 

A Particle in a Large Bubble (Writing as Black Angel)

Photo taken from the WEB

America was founded on

insecurity, the ripeness of

darkened bodies dangling from

southern trees.

 

I wish I possessed a gun

loaded with the

proper knowledge.

 

The gun, invested

my soul utters deception.

 

I am alone in my journey

to find real truths.

Everything is blurry and I

remain blinded by lies

and media frenzy.

 

© 2008 by Charles Banks, Jr.

Writing as Black Angel.

Excerpt from Angel’s Passion

Published by PublishAmerica, LLLP.

 

Here is a link to the MP3 audio performance of “A Particle in a Large Bubble.”

http://www.reverbnation.com/blackangelcuriosity/songs

 

Published by PublishAmerica, LLLP.

Urban Renewal (Writing as Black Angel)

Photo taken from the WEB

I have a brilliant idea!

I don’t know why a person

more brilliant than I hasn’t thought

of such an idea.

 

Let’s burn down the infected city

and rebuild everything!

Start from scratch!

 

We’ll force all the negativity to either

die or squirm into the unknown.

 

We’ll burn down the schools and

venture home by home, setting ablaze

to all the pessimism in the city.

 

We’ll lead the charge into infected neighborhoods

and burn down gang fronts and hideouts.

 

We’ll walk the stairs of City Hall

and burn it to ashes.

 

We will burn down the Hall of Records,

obliterating all recognition of this town of infection.

 

© 2008 by Charles Banks, Jr.

Writing as Black Angel.

Excerpt from Angel’s Passion

Published by PublishAmerica, LLLP.

 

Published by PublishAmerica, LLLP.

Throwing Out the Garbage (Writing as Black Angel)

Photo taken from the WEB

The deception and defeated tanginess…

behind me.

 

Mistakes…

buried six feet deep.

 

Heartbreak…

a figment of my imagination.

 

The dream…

still afloat.

 

The tunnel of darkness…

I escaped.

 

© 2008 by Charles Banks, Jr.

Writing as Black Angel.

Excerpt from Angel’s Passion

Published by PublishAmerica, LLLP.

 

Published by PublishAmerica, LLLP.

The Tunnel (Writing as Black Angel)

 

Eight, seven, six, five

four, three, two, one.

 

The chance I’d been

fighting for my entire life

was upon me.

Directly ahead,

there it was!

 

Would I fumble my only chance?

 

Would I give in to

the temptation of quitting?

 

As I walk down the dark tunnel,

into the light,

the crowd noise increases

with each anxious step.

 

I don’t want to leave

the darkness of the tunnel.

For the darkness is my home.

The darkness has birthed me.

 

© 2008 by Charles Banks, Jr.

Writing as Black Angel.

Excerpt from Angel’s Passion

Published by PublishAmerica, LLLP.

 

Published by PublishAmerica, LLLP.

Angel’s Passion (Five-Year Anniversary)

Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. Yesterday, October the sixth, marked the five-year anniversary of my second book of poetry, Angel’s Passion being published by PublishAmerica. Time sure has elapsed in such a quick manner. In celebration of this milestone date in time, I will be posting five poems from the book. I hope you enjoy! Once more, I am grateful to everyone that has continued to visit my poetry blog. I know you have plenty of other choices.

– Charles Banks, Jr.

 

Here’s the synopsis of Angel’s Passion:

“From the mind and heart of Charles Banks Jr. comes a poetic story of escaping the past and embracing the bright and vibrant light at the end of the tunnel. Angel’s Passion is the tale of a unique individual (Black Angel) who is lost within the confines of a self-inflicted dark tunnel. The tunnel is cold and is a constant reminder of the mistakes he has made in life. The tunnel of darkness serves as a greenhouse effect, a suppression of emotions, confliction of a confused mind, and a beacon of eternal despair. For Black Angel to escape this tunnel of darkness, the following are needed: love, freedom of spirituality, and self-understanding.”

 

Angel’s Passion can be found on Amazon.com: http://www.amazon.com/Angels-Passion-Charles-Banks-Writing/dp/1606727931/ref=sr_1_12?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1381162820&sr=1-12&keywords=Angel%27s+Passion

Angel’s Passion can also be found at Barnes and Noble.com: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/angels-passion-charl-banks-jr-writing-as-black-angel/1014803448?ean=9781606727935

As well as PublishAmerica.net: http://www.publishamerica.net/product11312.html

Published by PublishAmerica, LLLP.

All I Possessed After the Fire (Writing as Curiosity)

 

The illumination of the blazing fire created

an amber illusion of my sentiments.

Brave firefighters ran into my burning residence,

but it was too late for my possessions.

All had been lost in the amazing house fire,

set ablaze by the unforgiving flames.

 

But one keepsake found a safety net

amongst the mesmerizing inferno.

The surreal image of Sophia’s exit

was that one lasting possession¾

every other had been burned to ash.

 

How could she have turned her back to me,

and showed the backside of her sultry frame?

How could she have been so frigid

as to turn her remorseless cheek to me,

disregarding the extravagance of our history?

 

I was in possession of one hurtful memory,

kept away in a tiny, jagged heart-shaped locket

that hung from a dulled bronze chain on my neck.

 

And as the illumination of the blazing fire

inspired my recollection,

I gripped tightly my one lasting possession.

 

© 2012 by Charles Banks, Jr.

Writing as Curiosity

Excerpt from End of the Road.

Published by Lulu.com in Print and e-book.

 

Untitled (Writing as Curiosity)

 

And October will always be the cruelest month,

for it homes the bastard child we conceived,

with a love so impure, it will surely doom our

unborn seed, who was nourished by hurtful deceit,

nurtured in the belly of a Judas.

 

The slit between madness and legibility has diminished;

my solace is restless these days.

It wafts in the drunken air that blows comfort into my poetry,

and drowns in a river of salty sadness.

I have covered the distance between madness and legibility;

and conquered the stripped fields amid,

a space where deprivation is acquainted with normalcy.

 

October will always be the cruellest month…

Now, my words are home where we once stayed together,

Sophie can feel the creases and wrinkles of me—

among my stanzas and around the curves of my honesty.

She listens to my murmurs,

She dwells in the lyrical content of my odes to her perfidy.

I, too, embellish my verses with her deceit.

 

…and October will always be the cruellest month,

for it homes the bastard child we conceived,

with a love so impure, it will surely doom our

unborn seed, who was nurtured in the belly of a Judas.

Now I die once again.

 

Inspired by Baishali Bhaumik Mitra’s Poem “Poems”

 

© 2012 by Charles Banks, Jr.

Writing as Curiosity.

Excerpt from End of the Road

Published by Lulu.com in Print and e-book.