Two Shots Heard About One

About one this morn
Two shots were heard.
Some folks thought
There might been a third.

A body was found
Slumped in a truck.
Witnesses said it was
A drug deal gone amok.

He was such a good boy,
Helped everyone.
Had a great smile.
Was a lot of fun.

Don’t know who would do
Such a thing on our block.
A quiet neighborhood
At around one o’clock.

If you've seen anything,
A person with gun,
The police have asked
That you call 911.

Or call Crime Stoppers,
423-9300.
You’ll remain anonymous,
In case you wondered.

If your tip leads us to
Arrest and indictment
You get five thousand
As our little present.

- Bennie Bell

- copyright – 2012
- lifeslittleverses
- @http://lifeslittleverses.blogspot.com/
- all rights reserved

Six Brothers Had She

Six brothers had she
In a prior family.
Sister Cyril taught art
At Holy Rosary.

Probably was tomboy
Surrounded by guys.
Knew why young boys
Didn't like wearing ties.

In her 8th grade art class
She noted I would draw.
Had eye for bright color,
Perspective, some flaw.

Taught me the ways
Of oil crayon and chalk,
India ink on bark paper,
Ochre paint, a cake walk.

Time flew off the canvas
In her home room studio.
Let me do what I wanted,
Doo-wap on radio.

I owe one to Cyril,
The advice given me:
"There are no straight lines,
Color has no boundary."

When it came time to leave
And say our good-bye.
I knew that she knew
Big boys never cry.

Sister's colors live on.
Pastels and earth tones
Dance in my head
As friends when alone.

Six brothers had she
In a previous life.
Knew boys became men
If art eased their strife.

     - Benny Bell - 2012


India Inks

- copyright – 2012
- lifeslittleverses
- @http://lifeslittleverses.blogspot.com/
- all rights reserved

Box Stores

Concrete block and slab
Rectangles do sprout.
Garrish light overhead
At entrance, a tout.

Grab a cart for a stroll,
Try not do it drunk,
The stuff you will see
Is China's best junk.

But be not afraid
It'll all fall apart
Before you get worried
Or death do you part.

Eternal damnation
Might just likely be
An endless box store
With nowhere to flee.

      - Benny Bell - 2012

- copyright – 2012
- lifeslittleverses
- @http://lifeslittleverses.blogspot.com/
- all rights reserved

Smart Phone

How did we survive
Without a Smart Phone
Or custom ring tones
That'll make you moan.

"Was that Dijon or Poupon,
I cannot recall,"
She said in the aisle
In earshot of all.

"Will you eat corn beef?
What do you mean you won't?
Then go get some take out.
Cooking for you, I won't."

I regret effort made
To build cell sites
For it seems like we all
Got a bad case of the trites.

Not polite to text
While eating your meal,
Or driving the car.
You know the spiel.

See the family eating
In the local diner.
Kids are all tweeting
Conversation is minor.

The phone might be smart
The apps more so clever.
But medium's the message
For now and forever.

     - Benny Bell - 2012

- copyright – 2012
- lifeslittleverses
- @http://lifeslittleverses.blogspot.com/
- all rights reserved

Torn Down

Too much was torn down
In the old Inner City,
In name of renewal,
What a great pity.

Did you say it was all
So very progressive?
Or did I hear you say,
Was more like regressive?

Folks were rousted out
Of their meager abodes,
Thought to be slums
That didn’t meet codes.

Relocation they called it,
For the poor and meek.
Moved them to places
About just as bleak.

Who will remember
Their station or plight?
All done with great purpose
To fight urban blight.

Scattered to the winds,
We’ll never quite know
What really did happen,
Not very long ago.

Only the simple minded
Will continue the lore
That tearing them down
Was better than before.

- Benny Bell -2012

- copyright – 2012
- lifeslittleverses
- @http://lifeslittleverses.blogspot.com/
- all rights reserved

Sit In

I raced down on The Lex
To Washington Square Park
For a Con Law grad class,
Trying to keep my C mark.

But lo and behold
A sit-in I do see
With pea-coated squatters
Protesting with glee.

They were wallowing in
15 minutes of fame.
Blocking elevators
And for why I came.

Tried picking my way through
The mass of rear ends,
Only to be jeered at
By revolution's best friends.

"Hey," one black bereted lass
Shouted out in my face.
"You a dirty rich kid?
You're right in our space."

You'll find them today
Taking bread from the poor.
Dreaming of the time
That they all stopped the war.

They'll go to their graves
Thinking they changed the world
By sitting on their arses
With epitaphs hurled.

      - Benny Bell -2012

- copyright – 2012
- lifeslittleverses
- @http://lifeslittleverses.blogspot.com/
- all rights reserved

Militaria

Insignia and medals,

Canteens and bayonets,

Will come to auction

As militaria sets. 

Seabee pics are rare,

Show wounded and dead

On battle fields past

Where many have bled. 

Do I hear one hundred

For this soldier’s rucksack?

And yes, a one-ten

From the fellow in black. 

The mementos of war,

Are assorted by lot,

Sold to high bidders

With nary a thought. 

Who’ll give me two hundred

For these sweetheart wings?

Airmen gave them to girls

Among other things. 

Militaria collectors,

Listen-up if you will.

We have a bronze star,

You know the drill.

Given during The Big One

To a brave P.F.C.

Died later on D-Day.

Good condition, you see.

We pass war artifacts

From one to another

No family wants them,

Not even a mother. 

Does anyone fathom

The true worth of it all?

Or is all that’s left us

Etched names on a wall?

Wearing her sweetheart wings

     - Benny Bell - 2012

- copyright – 2012
- lifeslittleverses
- @http://lifeslittleverses.blogspot.com/
- all rights reserved