Poetry

Brooklyn N.Y. June 17, 1978
Man found dead in bathroom
of warehouse on Utica Avenue.
Detectives at the scene said he died
from a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head.
Daily News reported.

(The story doesn’t end here.)

June 4, 1983.
Robert Leone;
son of the above-mentioned deceased,
was arrested for possession of stolen property and drugs,
sent to Rikers Island to get his feet wet,
ready himself for what lies ahead at the
end of his rainbow.

May 2, 1986.
Frankie Leone,
brother of the deceased,
was found dead in his apartment.
Medical examiners ruled the death a heroin overdose.

February 16, 1998
After years of in and out gymnastics
throughout the D.O.C, Robert Leone
once again finds himself behind the wall,
severing a fifteen to life sentence for attempted burglary.
No pot of gold at the end of this rainbow.

Pulling that trigger, did you figure, know
how far the bullet would travel.
Your head not its final destination.
Exiting wounds thirty-one years.
Destroying all in its path.

We’ve buried many close to you.
Watched them dissolve,
ruin their chances,
always trying, but
never solving,
the why?
that monster of gadflies.

What were you thinking?
The world was better off without you?
That you didn’t matter?
No one loved you?
No one needed you?
That pulling that trigger
would end the pain? Fool!
Coward! Others carried it for you,
carried it in their hearts,
hot leaded pain.

I carried it through countless
self-medicating mantras, while
sailing through three in the morning drug spots,
hot spots, just to get it fixed.
From police stations to D.O.C situations,
I’ve carried your pain.

Now its journey ends here,
caught it in my pen,
and that’s where it’ll stay,
here in my pen.
No more damage dear father.

Robert Skelly 

aka Bobby Blue 

Rest in Piece