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New York in the '80s: The Cry of the Abyss

Facing the abyss, I see the crime
The city bared to its dark mime
Crime’s the mirror of misery shown
A lament in minds, forlorn and alone

Streets stage a silent, somber play
Where spilled blood speaks of more than decay
It’s the soul torn by indifference’s might
And the law, once justice, fades from sight

The poor, martyrs to their cruel fate
Trade their dignity for crumbs on a plate
...

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New YorkNY80s1980scrimestreetpolicecops

A Patch Of Mint

                     While snippin' a pinch to steep in his kitch'

                     I'd suck on a leaf with a quizzical itch

                    Just a boy to play , with toys to fetch

                    I could'nt care less for herbs and cress

                    Now the house of Jim Hall grew mint for his tea

                    It grew the sweetest of nectar so close...

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Poem about my grandfather and me in AmityvilleNY

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