Neighborhood Schools and My Bicycle

neighborhood schools

The bicycle knows
names like
neighborhood schools
say neighborhood
mean segregation
The bicycle rides the roads
the bicycle rides smooth roads
in white neighborhoods
rough roads in black

the bicycle sees
neighborhood roads


Want your road paved?

Make enough to avoid taxes

then my bicycle

can ride your road


can I?


My bicycle and I travel the roads in my county. The roads in the rich communities are beautiful and smooth and newly paved as I write this. The richer neighborhoods have twice to three times as many publicly built street lamps and publicly built sidewalks as the poor neighborhoods. Bicycles love smooth roads, the rich have those. I just wonder when I ride these perfect neighborhoods why do they get more of the tax funds than neighborhoods that may pay more taxes? Why do the rich want to pay less and get more. Are they against government and first in line to call about their roads and best at getting the benefits of government?
My bicycle knows about “Neighborhood Roads”.

My bicycle and I know exactly what “Neighborhood Schools” means. I grew up riding a school bus in the south. We passed the “Neighborhood School” for the blacks every day. There was no grass in the yard and the county didn’t even paint the building. I saw neighborhood schools. I was a little child but I knew something was wrong with what I saw out of that window. What I saw was the same thing my bicycle saw.

Bogota Bus Poem by Dandelion De La Rue

Bogota Bus

Solemn saints and
careening through
chaotic streets
of early
morning dimness
getting me
to work on time
only slightly bruised
and only slightly sane.

The man beside me
sleeps, snoring
to the music of the radio
music fast and loud
surreal morning
as we speed by
shuttered shops
and blanket covered
sidewalk shapes.

A man sells
magic bracelets
to protect us from
the evil emanating
from computer screens.
A singer climbs aboard
and sings a love song
blending with the
snores and radio.

I’ve never seen
a robot
on the bus.
They take a taxi
or a private car
fearing damage
to their rivets,
or rust perhaps
from other people’s

I Am Not So Good But I Try

I am not so good
but I try
we all try
we are happy when we move,
when we dance,
when we sing,
when we see birds fly
and bees
when we see
the children of the animals
and the people play,
when we play
we are happy when
we stand in the doorway
and the light from outside
shines in our eyes

we a le a we a le a

let the peace make us happy
let the peace allow the silence
of our thoughts, the
symphony of silent joy

we a le a we a le a

The mermaids sing
the mermaids call
we a le a we a le a

david michael jackson

Mouse in a Hole

I’m a mouse in a hole
pretending divinity

a heaven would need animals
and plants
My heaven would need a mouse.

Carl Sagan said that the trees and plants
are genetically and organically like us,
that they use the same organic compounds

that life began before there was an atmosphere
life created the atmosphere

life began with organic compounds
created by lightning

We have so much

The universe has been here for
fourteen billion years and
that is a grain of sand…
take a hundred billion of those
and that is a grain of sand

We’ll see each other in a few
universe explosions
and it will seem as if
it were a second
we’ll look at the two suns and
three moons like they were
always there
and the mouse and the plants will be in our heaven

david michael jackson

Jack of Hearts Queen of Hearts Jack of Spades Poem by Phil Coyote

by Phil Coyote
The Jack of Hearts
who gave us new starts
had his brain blown away in Dallas’ Dealey Plaza
as the whole world watched
by television.
The Queen of Hearts
who unchained hearts
rode the pure white steed
went downstairs to buy some cigarettes
and went back up to her room
and breathed her last breath
of LA’s smog
so says our Pravda.
The Jack of Spades
who gave electric, life changing serenades
and freed the slaves
mixed pills and wine
and left for all time
in a London ambulance
choked to death.
The Lizard King
who could do anything
and change your mind
when he’d sing
rode the pure white steed
that he never, ever would heed
and found his only friend
the end
in a bathtub
in the City of Lights
The walrus who everyone knew
like a Jesus Jew
who’d help you to do what’s true
was shot by an intelligentsia sleeper
in the Big Apple
another Casualty In America

Barefoot Review

bare footprint

Barefoot Review

Principals:  Jason Teeple (Founder)  Mel Glenn   Nicholas Gordon   Amy King    Jamie Sue Austin


In their words:

The Barefoot Review publishes original written work by people who have or have had physical difficulties in their lives, from cancer to seizures, Alzheimer’s to Lupus. It is also a place for caretakers, families, significant others and friends to write about their experiences and relationships to the person. They are a vital part to being able to live with an illness.

Some websites aren’t like others. Most websites emerge because of profit, ego, or simply personal expression. In all of these ventures good can occasionally be done. There are a few websites, like people, that emerge because of a giant need to somehow be a candle in the darkness. When you encounter such a place, it is a time to bow and honor. We are proud to bring the Barefoot Review to your attention..

Long ago and Far Away, a Panther Sings his Song by Dandelion de La Rue

Long ago and Far Away, a Panther Sings his Song

Brave and rude
young Panther
smile and eyes
so cynical
from 17 hard years
and Sixties
grime and glitter

I’d like to find you
thank you,
for my education.
Where are you now?
An old man,
white haired
This isn’t what we
planned, expected,

This isn’t why
we read those books
all those books
and talked philosophy
and politics
late into the night.

We wanted love
peace, tolerance
not hatred.
We never thought
of fear.

We were
The People.
There were no strangers
just friends
we hadn’t met.

We scoffed at
those who
wanted things.
We wanted nothing,
just the air
and midnight dancing streets
and friends.

We needed nothing.
We had youth,
and hope.

Where are you now,
my youthful guru
I think of you.

July Poem

My mother was born
in July
and my wife
was born and died in
That makes July a
two thirds
a pretty good month,
certainly hot,
but warm for sure.

I can recommend the month generally
but have had problems with it.

david michael jackson