The Fireplace (Writing as Black Angel) Excerpt from “Burdens”

A reflection of scolding hot truths
fallen ungracefully
from burning almond wood.
Sordid ashes
a once pure soul
now damned to be one
with the brick floor.
© 2014 by Charles banks, Jr.
Writing as Black Angel
Excerpt from “Burdens”
Published by Spilt Ink Poetry

Blindfolded Jabs (Writing as Black Angel)

Blindfolded Jabs
My back was firmly against a cold brick wall
Of course I let life box me in.
I knew I had fighter’s blood runnin’ through my veins
Of course it was poisoned when I started poppin’ Tylenol.
The boulders were too heavy to carry on my shoulders.
I felt trapped behind bars in jail
Of course the bail was too steep a price.
My cold, poetic stanzas were graffiti on the cell’s walls
Of course I was goin’ insane in captivity.
The expectations had rendered my creativity useless.
I was stunned by a sharp left jab
Of course I regained my composure.
A swift right hook proceeded to paralyze my physique
Of course I remained out for the count.
The thought of quittin’ looked oh, so sexy.
I stared in the mirror at my busted façade
Of course I entertained the idea of conceding life.
I woke in the middle of the night to cold sweats
Of course the blindfold finally came off.
The stars in my eyes were so revealing.
© 2013 by Charles Banks, Jr.
Writing as Black Angel

Never Fade Away (Writing as Curiosity)

Never Fade Away
Never fade into the abyss
Never drift in the breeze like a falling leaf.
Always rise above avalanches of distraction
Always drift with direction.
Never fade like the last rays of daylight
Never drift on a broken sailboat in shallow waters.
Always shine brightly in the imminence of darkness
Always captain your ship during treacherous storms.
Never fade with the most impossible of ambitions
Never drift on your disbelief.
Always cling to your hopes and dreams
Always savor each victory like fine wine.
Never fade and never waver
Never drift and never fold.
Always shine and always stand sturdy
Always have purpose and always win.
© 2013 by Charles Banks, Jr.
Writing as Curiosity

Disadvantage (Writing as Black Angel)

Photo taken from the WEB
My freedom to scribe is my only effect.
Without it, I border the shores of insanity.
I cling to it like a newborn to its mother.
Without it, I park my emotions on the nearest pier
and sit, wallowing in the thousands of tiny regrets
that devour me on a daily basis.
They have eaten so much that decayed bones
are all that remain of my true self.
There is a war that looms ahead, I can sense it.
I stand on one side with my pen ready to bludgeon.
A thousand qualms oppose me, ready to strike.
And my freedom to scribe is thrust in the middle,
playing the role of peacemaker.
© 2014 by Charles banks, Jr.
Writing as Black Angel
Excerpt from Burdens
Published by Spilt Ink Poetry

Flee (Writing as Black Angel)

Photo taken from the WEB

Photo taken from the WEB



I am slipping
deeper and deeper
into this asylum
I call it my mind.

How do I escape?
Long enough to grab a smoke
and catch a fresh breath.
I promise to return once my time is up.

But the sun sets on my optimism
and the dusks of reality cascade over me.

I am slipping
deeper and deeper
into this windowless room
I call it my misery.

© 2014 by Charles Banks, Jr.
Writing as Black Angel
Excerpt from Burdens
Published by Spilt Ink Poetry.

Bedside Vigil (Writing as Black Angel) Excerpt from “Burdens”


I sat vigil over Tony’s bedside
for sixteen hours before he died
on Christmas Eve, five days before
his nineteenth birthday.
Nurses came and went, checking his vitals,
propping his pillows, asking if he needed
warm blankets or the window opened.
We traded cancer stories and laughed about how
the hospital food reminded us of radiation treatment.
I went through 37 rounds
and had been cancer-free for nine months.
He went through 28 twice before the cancer
came back and took over his entire body.
When I got to the hospital, Tony was frail,
pale-skinned, and frequently lost his breath
in the middle of a good memory.
He died just before midnight,
as the Christmas carolers sang from down the hall.
I remained at his empty bedside
long into the silence of morning,
sitting vigil over what could have been me.

© 2014 by Charles banks, Jr.
Writing as Black Angel
Excerpt from Burdens
Published by Spilt Ink Poetry

Art by © 2014 by Fernando Gallegos

Art by © 2014 by Fernando Gallegos

Burdens (Written by Charles Banks, Jr.)

Hello followers! Today, my third chapbook of poetry, Burdens is officially available on eBay and through direct PayPal payments! If you’re in purchasing a signed print copy, please head on over to eBay or send PayPal payments ($8.00) to PayPal payments also come with free shipping!

I would like to thank Fernando Gallegos for providing artwork for this project, including the cover art! Also, thanks go out to Denise R. Weuve, whose selfless help aided the project’s completion!

Happy reading!


Sincerely Yours,

Charles Banks, Jr.


Synopsis by Denise R. Weuve (Poet)

“It takes courage to be a poet, and even more courage to write from the dark places most people attempt to hide.  Black Angel (pen name for Charles Banks, Jr.) flourishes in these places.  He plows the earth to see what is beneath the soil, and finds the beauty in the lost seeds that were never watered, those trapped beneath oppressive roots blocking their growth, and all the “mislead beauty” that no one seems to care about.  In this chapbook collection, Burdens, you will find a man not afraid to show vulnerability and the harsh truths that surround his life.  In “The Fireplace” he starts the poem with, A reflection of scolding hot truths and each of these poems seem like Black Angel’s deepest truths.  “Inheritance” is such an example.  Here we have a persona so thoroughly incased in the truth of the life he has been trust into, that he sees no hope, and no empathy outside his own body.  When you reach “Finale” you will have been taken on a journey that questioned society, afterlife, diseases, love, and most importantly the self.  You will have no more answers than Black Angel does, but you will have visited a world that only he could have taken you to, and that in return will make you look more deeply into your own.”


Art by © 2014 by Fernando Gallegos

Art by © 2014 by Fernando Gallegos