I can’t use real names or places, but I want everyone in the United States to read this.
My friend was at a football game. He is fifteen. He is Black. He was at a friend’s football game with four other kids. They left the football game. Got pulled over. No reason. The police looked in the car. Said, “You” and pointed at my friend.
"You," they said, "get out."
My friend complied. The cop (White) put my friend up against the wall.
"Give me your I.D." he said.
"I don’t have I.D., sir." my friend said. This is true, he has no license or any form of I.D. He is home-schooled.
"You have a driver’s license?" the cop said.
"Give me your fucking I.D. kid. Give it to me or I’ll bring Bubba over here." the cop said. Bubba is the other cop riding with him. A huge fat motherfucker.
"You might as well bring him over because I don’t have any I.D." my friend said.
Bubba comes over. Makes my friend spread his legs until he falls forward on his face. Holds my friend’s face on the asphalt with his arm and chokes him. They check him for I.D., stand him up, and let him go back to the car and drive away.
The next day, the police show up to my friend’s school and start questioning his friends. Asking questions like, “He was causing trouble last night, wasn’t he?”. My friend is a good kid. He’s quiet, intelligent. Does what he’s told. He’s a good student. He doesn’t do drugs. The cops showed up to his school and starting questioning his peers trying to cover their asses.
My friend’s mother, who is completely distraught, tries to find lawyers to take legal action against the officers. Nobody will touch the case. Everyone is afraid of the fucking police.
Southern Californians live in a police state. Be afraid of the police, especially if you’re Black. The majority of police officers in Southern California are sadistic motherfuckers who get off on abusing their power.
There is a video of the incident that shows my friend complying, being courteous and respectful. Doing what he’s told. Even with documented proof that my friend was in the right, no lawyer will touch the case.
This is not fiction.
This is not fiction. This is close to me. Close to far too many.
Do not trust Southern California law enforcement. Do not trust them. Fear them. Know your rights, and if you’re Black, hope and pray that you do not fall prey to the fucking police force.
People should read it from the top down and not stop until they’ve reached the bottom. For some reason I feel paranoid right now. I feel like people are going to see two poems in a row and decide not to keep reading, and not see that there are stories there to read for free. Could I somehow tell people that there is art and stories, too? Not just poetry. I don’t need to tell them.
I’m going to be up for a long time trying not to write poetry.
I’m writing a short story called Fires. It should be up soon.
They are people who desperately want to communicate images and ideas to other people,
I would say the first failure of a person who wants to write some stories is calling him or herself a “writer.”
Because then you are going to sit down and stare at your computer screen and “write.”
And not sit drinking coffee on a park bench on a pretty fall day imagining a scene in your head and when you have the scene figured out you go to a computer and put the scene into words so a person that is not you can understand and see what you want them to see so they can feel the emotion you want them to feel.”
This blog will contain all unpublished stories and poems of mine. I have decided that I believe in the internet enough to allow people to find my writing here, read it. The current standard path of a “good short story” confuses me. Say a very good short story is submitted to a literary magazine, something nice and “reputable”, like the Paris Review. They accept the story, and publish it. They pay the writer a fee, a fee that may pay a few bills, and publish the piece in a magazine that reaches less than 100,000 people. Those people have to pay $15 to buy the Paris Review, and most likely will only find three or four articles or stories or poems that they connect with.
With this, with the internet, millions of people can read my story and connect to it and learn. For free. It costs them nothing. It costs them less time than buying and reading a literary magazine. It costs the world less destruction, less use of paper and ink and material.
I want people to read my stories, poems, and thoughts here and, if they like them, email me or comment and tell me. If you are a literary magazine or e-zine and would like to publish something that I’ve posted here, email me.