Planet Poet

My mother’s husband tried to drown me in the bathtub.

He didn’t know how I amazed my friends by holding my breath longer than anyone in the pool at the Saint Mary’s park recreational center where hallways are painted with the images of Marvel superheroes like Captain America

Not ready to breath water, my brain flashed exit strategies until it settled on one:

PLAY DEAD

The boy I was went into violent convulsions and then lifeless in the waters. And that horrific scene made my poor mother’s spouse let go of my neck and run out of the apartment with an awful shriek into the streets of The South Bronx. 

I stood up on golden sands of Orchard Beach, The French Riviera of The Bronx, and pulled down my first diver’s mask purchased with money I made from shining shoes opposite a newsstand next to The White House, a supermarket on Prospect Street.

 I walked on water before a galaxy of an ocean made me feel the power of flight span wider than the white wings of seagulls in shades of blue skies.

The waters washed over memories of belt lashings on my back and healed me from the brutality of gangs, police, politicians, bullies jealous of my grades, drugs and addicts in burnt out buildings and other social ills spoiling a beautiful planet.

As the boy I was flew deeper into a part of Heaven on Earth called The Atlantic, he heard the sea sing like angels in songs never heard by human beings. Not a word. Experience.

Freedom.

This is freedom

I was free.

Freedom to find Atlantis

How poetic I’m Aquarius

The Water Bearer

To Be Continued

http://admericaintechnicolor.blogspot.com

Copyrighted Art & Text & Photography By

 DAAD/ Daniel Angel Aponte Dreamer 2017

When I was a boy, I looked at an eclipse with my bare eyes in The South Bronx of burnt out buildings.

A strange thing happened afterward.

A bright light appeared in front of my bedroom window, as did a hurricane inside my room that scattered my comic books around, among other objects.

I was being pulled into the light.

It was sheer force of will that prevented the little boy I was from disappearing into another dimension.

I wasn’t ready for a new reality.

This is the persistence of my memory. 

I recall being gifted in childhood with photographic memory and creativity.

I remember doctors that wanted to administer a new drug designed to dissolve a gland in the head of the little boy I was.

 I stared into the eyes of a doctor. He didn’t give me the drug.

The place where it happened was destroyed.

Today, it’s a parking lot of sorts for The New York City Police Department.

In The New Millennium, a young American man tried to get inside the building my mother has resided in for decades.

 He identified himself as Mark Wilson, a reporter for The New York Post.

He wanted to interview eyewitnesses to several bright lights across the building that hovered for a few seconds before taking off at unbelievable speed.

I studied pictures on his cell phone. 

Mister Wilson, I am sure you are reading this, as I am sure of scientific evidence to prove aliens have been on this gem of a planet for thousands of years.

One of the aliens is called poverty.

Make with the mild mannered reporter thing and help change the world for the best.

I am transmitting this final message from a public library in The South Bronx.

Afterward, I will go out into the street and look into the eclipse.

I wasn’t ready to leave the world when I was a kid.

I am ready

Now

My Re@l Life @s @ Comic Book

New York Radiology made MRI of my brain. Conceptual art and text by

D@niel @ngel @ponte

Copyrighted 2017

http://admericaintechnicolor.blogspot.com

 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

 

http://poetfolio.blogspot.com

http://thegreatamericantweet.blogspot.com

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?

 

http://poetfolio.blogspot.com

 

http://thegreatamericantweet.blogspot.com