Murals For Dreams And Other Planes Of Existence

In The South Bronx, when I was a boy who wanted to earn an NYPD gold shield, I followed footprints in snow that lead me to the home of Where The Wild Things Are.

 

Write what you know, Danny, advised Ms Raesade, beloved 6^th grade English teacher who believed I would write The Great American Novel. I know The Hunt’s Point Public Library was my Fortress of Solitude and The Bat Cave to boot up ideas.

 

In spite of having Patience and Fortitude, I got tired of waiting for Super Man.

 

I wanted to go where no one has ever gone before.  I wanted to be a science officer to make computers talk. I found a book called From Sand Tables To Electronic Brains.

 

I recall this because of a photographic memory in childhood enhanced by gifted ones.

 

Imagination is more important than knowledge, Albert Einstein wrote to me in this mansion of geniuses that made me feel like Richie Rich in The South Bronx

 

I have a dream for The City That Never Sleeps.

 

I dreamt of Supreme Court Justice Sonia Sotomayor reading from her book from her hometown libraries to inspire future dreamers with homework on Earth as I figured how to do my homework on creating a tour book to draw tourists to The South Bronx. To quote Supreme Court Justice Sandra Day O’Connor, no one gets a dream done alone.

 

That applies to a former South Bronx resident who wrote We, The People in 1776.

 

I’ve been around like The Man In Black sang. I was a US Marshal or Lone Ranger

 

Reckon its high noon to serve this here NYPL warrant for arrested development.

 

Book them, Dano. Poetic Justice writes again on sunset of centuries and sunrise

 

Once upon a time at The Public Library, the boy I was found A Winkle In Time.

 

Know the past. Just never repeat bad things in history again. Find the future.

 

This has been a mural of words for dreams and other planes of existence.

 

I died in The South Bronx of America and went to Google Heaven

 

Thanks for sharpening super visions, NYPL.

 

It’s my time to make you see.

 

See book. Read movie

 

Hope sequel’s better

 

LOL

 

 

 

http://thegreatamericantweet.blogspot.com

 

http://oscarporlarenta.blogspot.com

 

http://poetfolio.blogspot.com

 

http://teleeclectic.blogspot.com

 

http://hobowithalibrarycard.blogspot.com

 

First Cell Contact With The Better Aliens of Human Imagination by Dan Aponte

 

 

Teleeclectic

I spat out blood violently in front of two cops.

 

They called an ambulance: ETA in 9 minutes. Officer Gonzales of the 41 Precinct and FDNY medics asked the same question: Have I been to West Africa lately?

 

I wish.

 

I’ll do anything to get out of The South Bronx.

 

I always wanted to travel Earth and beyond.

 

Oxygen mask on as sirens wailed in rain.

 

Oh my! How exciting! An adventure!

 

I spent 10 hours on a bed at Lincoln Hospital.

 

I saw young and old crowded in ER. They all were like children afraid of the dark.

 

Health care workers of different nationalities talked about movies as they surrounded me. A medic strapped on gloves with a snap and a smile. You remind me of Dexter, I said. Please don’t kill me. He laughed. Blood work came back fine. No Ebola. No HIV. No Tuberculosis. X-rays came back fine. No Cancer. My heart bled in gratitude.

 

I thanked every professional for his or her service.

 

I thanked God like a little boy saved from lions.

 

Ulcer, blood pressure too high and a violent reaction to Advil were the reasons I was spitting blood like an actor screaming in agony in Alien and gory sequels galore.

 

I humbly ate two hamburgers at Mickey D. They tasted so good without extra salt.

 

I drank pineapple juice. I walked home past a park under stars and saw new country.

 

I saw The Wonder Years go on forever for future generations.

 

Truthfully, I’m dying for salty fried chicken wings.

 

And hot sauce hotter than Hell.

 

It would taste so sweet.

 

It would be Heaven.

 

http://thegreatamericantweet.blogspot.com