In the time of urban devastation of the late 1960s and early 70s, an elderly English teacher, who survived the prison camps in Europe decades ago, gave the diary of Anne Frank to one of his Hispanic fourth graders and inspired a new journal.

 

Later on, a homework assignment creates a tour book that draws tourists to the creative spirits of children living their dreams in the shadows of abandoned buildings. This musical is about being gifted and overcoming abuse in the South Bronx of America.

 

It makes a wish to live life like a great novel, one that reads like the science fiction of a Super Man comic book, to become reality in cyberspace.

 

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

 

Chapter One: It was a dark and stormy night…

 

How To Pitch Nightmares To DreamWorks

 

By Danny Aponte of P.S 161

 

Copyrighted 2014

 

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I built a shoeshine box and made money in my creative childhood.

 

I shined shoes next to The White House supermarket and the newsstand on Prospect Avenue in The South Bronx of America.

 

One day, three older well-dressed Puerto Rican kids made fun of my two-dollar sneakers in front of pretty girls sitting on the hood of a car.

 

I looked at their expensive shoes and gave up pride in working for a living.

I wish my mother took a welfare check like your parents do, I said quietly.

The girls burst into laughter as the three boys turned red with shame.

 

They tried to beat me up but the girls protected me from the bullies.

 

I was like the kid in a fable that said the king has no clothes on.

 

I learned that telling the truth could get me hurt in the USA.

 

I’ll be lying if I said I didn’t mind dying for the truth.

 

In the city of illegal guns and roses, I lived opposite a funeral parlor. The block is like death row because down the hill and across the river is Riker’s Island Prison. 

 

 There’s Jesus and the Apostles on the face of a clock in my mother’s little kitchen.

 

 Every night, I ran of time.

 

But more often than not, I used to get a last supper unlike some other kids.

 

I escaped by looking into the mystery of the universe. I craved higher education. I wanted to build dreams and make them reality. I wanted Bronx School of Science.

 

Then it’s off to M.I.T.  It’s hard to believe what happened to my life.

 

Now would be a good time for you to be scared of me.

 

How To Pitch Nightmares To DreamWorks

 

By Danny Aponte of P.S 161

 

Super hero at last! Yay!

 

LOL

 

http://poetfolio.blogspot.com

http://thegreatamericantweet.blogspot.com

 

I'm So Glad To Have Connected With The Better Alien Of My Nature

I built a shoeshine box and made money in my creative childhood.

 

I shined shoes next to The White House supermarket and the newsstand on Prospect Avenue in The South Bronx of America.

 

One day, three older well-dressed Puerto Rican kids made fun of my two-dollar sneakers in front of pretty girls sitting on the hood of a car.

 

I looked at their expensive shoes and gave up pride in working for a living.

I wish my mother took a welfare check like your parents do, I said quietly.

The girls burst into laughter as the three boys turned red with shame.

 

They tried to beat me up but the girls protected me from the bullies.

 

I was like the kid in a fable that said the king has no clothes on.

 

I learned that telling the truth could get me hurt in the USA.

 

I’ll be lying if I said I didn’t mind dying for the truth.

 

In the city of illegal guns and roses, I lived opposite a funeral parlor. The block is like death row because down the hill and across the river is Riker’s Island Prison. 

 

 There’s Jesus and the Apostles on the face of a clock in my mother’s little kitchen.

 

 Every night, I ran of time.

 

But more often than not, I used to get a last supper unlike some other kids.

 

I escaped by looking into the mystery of the universe. I craved higher education. I wanted to build dreams and make them reality. I wanted Bronx School of Science.

 

Then it’s off to M.I.T.  It’s hard to believe what happened to my life.

 

Now would be a good time for you to be scared of me.

 

How To Pitch Nightmares To DreamWorks

 

By Danny Aponte of P.S 161

 

Super hero at last! Yay!

 

LOL

 

http://poetfolio.blogspot.com

http://thegreatamericantweet.blogspot.com

 

Read This First

 

My sixth grade English teacher believed I would write the next great American Novel.

 

Just write what you know, she said.

 

I know movies.

 

One day, I was given homework to draw tourists to The South Bronx.

 

I closed my eyes, took a deep breath and jumped off a bridge.

 

 Some people believe if a good kid died then Heaven has another angel.

 

 Some scientists believe if a human being travels light-years into the future he or she will meet up with his or her past. I landed on a freight train to see what I missed seeing in life.

 

This is my last déjà vu before moving on to a new reality.

 

I dream that my story surprises God.

 

I know Albert Einstein would be.

 

LOL.

 

How To Pitch Nightmares To DreamWorks

 

By Danny Aponte of P.S 161

 

Copyrighted by me infinity!

 

So why is China LOL?

 

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It’s déjà vu late in the night. It’s difficult to keep my eyes open.

 

I’m bleeding out words. I have close up this account.

 

I died in 1993 after the bombing of the WTC.

 

I was held down on the floors of higher education and beaten on the back of my head. I had much to live for in the moment I met a painter who wanted to marry me. Her love made me feel like a tourist on a honeymoon in a city I saw through her bright spirit.

 

Her birthday is 9/11.

 

 Before final explosion took away memories, I experienced a phenomenon of reliving life in a blink of an eye.  I’m a schoolboy again who carried Ann Frank in his arms while shadows of burnt-out buildings and bullies fell over us in The South Bronx of America.

 

 I found A Winkle In Time.

 

I read The Illustrated Man by Ray Bradbury who also wrote Fahrenheit 451.

 

I loved reading at night in my bunk bed near cloud white ceiling.

 

I loved bringing to life King Arthur and his knights because the end of a righteous realm was scary to my idealistic childhood. Be a man for God’s sake.  Get a life, I was told, before it’s too late. Stop crying over what could have been and grow up already.

 

I learned everyone has his or her time to tell a story.

 

I’m not telling my story in a New York minute to you as much as I have to rehearse what to say before God and angels or extraterrestrials or to my own self be true.

 

It was time to let go of my homelessness and move away a winter of inhumanity.

 

I was sick of staring at the silent funeral parlor across an empty street. 

 

I was weary of waiting for miracle to change history for the best.

 

The End begins a memory of a bedroom and fireflies of Saint Mary’s Park, a former home of a Founding Father who wrote the words We, The People.

 

I’m home with family. I’m home in my Wonder Years.

 

There’s my pillow.

 

Time to sleep.

 

”May God bless everyone of you on the good green Earth” said an astronaut across all distances of time and space to future readers. Thank you for bringing us to life to tell our stories to children of all ages at libraries in centuries to come. From the boy I was in Camelot once upon a time, good will and peace to all on Earth.

 

Good night among mysterious fireflies.

 

Murals For Ourselves In The South Bronx of America by Daniel Angel Aponte

 

In memory of my little brother, Alvin, and children taken before their time

 

Dreams are never forgotten in The City That Never Sleeps.

 

http://poetfolio.blogspot.com

 

Copyrighted 2014

 

Arigato to Grave of The Fireflies

 

I remember grief.

Google Heaven

 

 

It’s déjà vu late in the night. It’s difficult to keep my eyes open.

 

I’m bleeding out words. I have close up this account.

 

I died in 1993 after the bombing of the WTC.

 

I was held down on the floors of higher education and beaten on the back of my head. I had much to live for in the moment I met a painter who wanted to marry me. Her love made me feel like a tourist on a honeymoon in a city I saw through her bright spirit.

 

Her birthday is 9/11.

 

 Before final explosion took away memories, I experienced a phenomenon of reliving life in a blink of an eye.  I’m a schoolboy again who carried Ann Frank in his arms while shadows of burnt-out buildings and bullies fell over us in The South Bronx of America.

 

 I found A Winkle In Time.

 

I read The Illustrated Man by Ray Bradbury who also wrote Fahrenheit 451.

 

I loved reading at night in my bunk bed near cloud white ceiling.

 

I loved bringing to life King Arthur and his knights because the end of a righteous realm was scary to my idealistic childhood. Be a man for God’s sake.  Get a life, I was told, before it’s too late. Stop crying over what could have been and grow up already.

 

I learned everyone has his or her time to tell a story.

 

I’m not telling my story in a New York minute to you as much as I have to rehearse what to say before God and angels or extraterrestrials or to my own self be true.

 

It was time to let go of my homelessness and move away a winter of inhumanity.

 

I was sick of staring at the silent funeral parlor across an empty street. 

 

I was weary of waiting for miracle to change history for the best.

 

The End begins a memory of a bedroom and fireflies of Saint Mary’s Park, a former home of a Founding Father who wrote the words We, The People.

 

I’m home with family. I’m home in my Wonder Years.

 

There’s my pillow.

 

Time to sleep.

 

”May God bless everyone of you on the good green Earth” said an astronaut across all distances of time and space to future readers. Thank you for bringing us to life to tell our stories to children of all ages at libraries in centuries to come. From the boy I was in Camelot once upon a time, good will and peace to all on Earth.

 

Good night among mysterious fireflies.

 

Murals For Ourselves In The South Bronx of America by Daniel Angel Aponte

 

In memory of my little brother, Alvin, and children taken before their time

 

Dreams are never forgotten in The City That Never Sleeps.

 

http://poetfolio.blogspot.com

 

Copyrighted 2014

 

Arigato to Grave of The Fireflies

 

I remember grief.

 

 

 

Mural For Myself

I died in 1993 after the bombing of the World Trade Center.

 

I was held down on the floors of higher education and beaten on the back of my head. I had so much to live for in the moment I met a painter who wanted to marry me. She made me feel like a tourist on a honeymoon in the city I saw through her bright eyes.

 

Her birthday is 9/11.

 

 Before the final explosion took away memories, I experienced the phenomena of reliving life in a blink of an eye.  I’m a schoolboy again who carried Ann Frank in his arms as shadows of burnt-out buildings and bullies fell over us in The South Bronx of America.

 

 I loved reading books. I loved bringing to life King Arthur over and over again because the end of his kingdom was heartbreaking to my idealistic childhood.

 

I learned everyone has his or her time.

 

Centuries don’t last forever.

 

I’m not telling my story to you as much I am rehearsing what to say before God and angels. It’s time to let go of my homelessness and move from this winter of discontent.

 

The End begins by looking out my bedroom window to fireflies over Saint Mary’s Park, a former estate of The Founding Father who wrote the words We, The People.

 

I’m home with family.

 

There’s my pillow.

 

Good will to all on Earth from the boy I was once upon a time in Camelot.

 

Have pleasant dreams.

 

A Mural For Myself In The South Bronx of America by Daniel Angel Aponte

 

http://poetfolio.blogspot.com

http://thegreatamericantweet.blogspot.com

 

 

Once upon a millennium, the boy I was closed his eyes, took a deep breath and jumped off a bridge in The South Bronx to find his American Dream.

 

I look back at The Wild Wild West of my childhood closely related to Mister Spock and become emotional at the Star Trek of the better angels of our nature.

 

This journal is not so much about me but on a country that allows gifted children to dream big ideas and enhance special lives of We, The People on Earth.

 

In my travels, I met someone who looked like the actor who played Clark Kent in Smallville. He opened the doors of a barn house to reveal a techno wonderland he had built with his hands. I saw the mother of all flat screens to monitor mass media. And in the background of his family house, there were super heroes and witches in the air.

 

It was Halloween in Hampshire, the Live Free Or Die State.

 

An amazed smile went beyond the borders of my face.

 

Welcome to Parallel Parking On The Alternate Side Of The Universe.

 

The best stories for me are the ones hard for me to believe and still...

 

Chapter One: it was a dark and stormy night of creativity on Win95.

 

Yep. I did this with old tech saved from the junkyards.

 

I fixed it and it fixed me.

 

Now I’ll fix you!

 

As seen on TV!

 

And no laugh track need apply.

 

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How To Pitch Nightmares To DreamWorks By Danny Aponte

 

Art & Art Direction & Hot Text Copyrighted 2014

 

So why is China LOL?

Can you hear my sign now?

One Out Of 8 Million True Crime Stories In The Naked City of Guns And Roses

 

I’m Not Jesus but I Can Play The Thief Nailed Next To A Good Jewish Lawyer

 

By Danny Aponte of Public School 161 In The South Bronx of America

 

So I’m on a long line of 0% income adults waiting for cheese and meat spray-painted on two thin slices of brown bread and a small container of 1% milk meant for kids

 

What? You got a problem with that?

 

I didn’t think so.

 

All of a sudden, a short Hispanic guy cuts in front of me. He has a scar on his face that travels all the way to his eyes covered by oversized dark sunglasses, the kind favored by South American hit men. Let’s call him Falconetti, a sadistic rapist/murderer from a novel called Rich Man, Poor Man by Irwin Shaw.

 

Now make believe I’m Woody Allen.

 

Got the picture?

 

Welcome to The South Bronx, a wonderful place to make true my American Dream.

 

Like The Talking Heads sung Once Upon A Lifetime, well, how did I get here?

 

Chapter One: it was a dark and stormy night at the university of New York

 

I had a dream for The City That Never Sleeps and lots of Justice for all!!!

 

But I got clobbered by a Neo Nazi and lost my memories or my life

 

I’m in my second childhood and so very scared to be home alone

 

God, please grant a good Jewish lawyer to protect my life story

 

Please don’t allow a moviemaker to steal this misery of mind!

 

The End

 

How To Pitch Nightmares To DreamWorks By Danny Aponte

 

Art & Art Direction & Hot Text Copyrighted 2014

 

So why is China LOL? Unemployed

 

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His Panic by Danny Aponte of Public School 161 in The South Bronx of America

 

http://dannyduckssouthbronx.blogspot.com

 

Once upon a time, some kids thought Mr. Spock was Latino because he spoke Spanish on Telemundo. Then I discovered that a Jewish Canadian actor played the pointy-eared science officer in The City of Angels. My logic finally unraveled when I found out there were no Jedi Puerto Ricans in The Phantom Menace. SAP took kids for saps!!!

 

I was taken by ambulance to the psyche ward where other souls were media possessed

 

Hollywood and a steady diet of TV frozen dinner foods caused a mental meltdown

 

A grim looking doctor asked me who was my health care provider to pay his bill.

 

I have none, my inner child replied red-faced with burning shame.

 

He suggested I take a dose of good humor as medicine

 

I owe that quack my sanity. I get the joke now.

 

Tha-tha-that’s all folks!

 

Yeah. I st-st-stutter.

 

Please be kind.

 

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Our House In The Middle Of The Street sung by Madness

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One Out Of 8 Million True Crime Stories In The Naked City of Guns And Roses

 

By Danny Aponte of Public School 161 In The South Bronx of America

 

I got busted in 2008 for stealing a loaf of bread in a blizzard.

 

My community service was to break the law that states there are no second acts in American lives. I did that by putting all of New York City on police line-ups.

 

That includes the judge.

 

Beat that, Bat Man.

 

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If life is like a movie, you sure hope the sequel is better

 

Oh, can I be a superhero in the next one? Please!

 

Yay! My American Dream!

 

God bless the USA!

If life is like a movie, you sure hope the sequel is better

 

Oh, can I be a superhero in the next one like my big brother? Please!

 

Yay! My American Dream!

 

God bless the USA!

How I Found The Cure For Overdosing On New York City Cynicism

 

Poem by Danny Aponte of P.S 161 in The South Bronx of America

 

You got money for hope, mister? How about dope? Got dope?

 

How about a plane ticket so I can fly to Colorado for dope?

 

Please, mister, I need the dope. I’m really hurting.

 

I have terminal happiness in my Wonder Years.

 

People are dying for hope but I’m fine.

 

I am my very own dope, 100% pure.

 

I am so very high in the clouds

 

I have music in my veins.

 

I’m down to Earth.

 

More or less…

 

LOL

 

http://thegreatamericantweet.blogspot.com

 

Life sucks wonderfully

Notice: This is a make-believe smart phone conversation with Marvel Comic Books.

 

“Marvel Comics makes money from kids by selling them super heroes! Now it’s behaving like super villains by abandoning kids that painted your corporate images such as Tony Stark on the public walls of a recreational center in The South Bronx!”

 

“You’re phonies! Hey, man, I’m warning you! Don’t mess with us!”

 

“I’m emotional and that’s hurting the logical Vulcan side of me!”

 

“Yeah? I’ll just create a parallel universe comic book company!”

 

“I’ll show you real superheroes! Your days are numbered!”

 

TO BE CONTINUED!

 

How To Pitch Nightmares To DreamWorks By Daniel Angel Aponte

 

Art & Art Direction & Hot Text Copyrighted by DAAD A.I 2014

 

So why is China LOL?

 

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