The Art, Poetry and Music of Anthony Russomanno
Poet, Sculptor, Artist, Musician, Inventor and Story Teller
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Sunlight filtering through the lace curtains shimmers on the vinyl floor covered in crumbs minute shadows stretch beneath the table stained by the oily hands that polish them thin. 
Voices mingle with the wind who whispered why. Their shadows chased after them disappearing under the hood of night a starless immortality that ends nowhere
Nimble fingers that frolic effortless on the black and white keys somewhere a child frozen and motionless as a soundless sheet of music on a broken black box piano 
On the street children play hide and seek among the shadows, chasing fireflies in the dark summer night they run like the wind jumping from rooftop to rooftop into the night. 
Music drifts through the house distorted sounds of people evaporate into nothingness. I want to be out playing, running, running right off the earth on a ribbon of light into oblivion.
My feet move faster than the speed of light thru the stratosphere beyond the Moon past Pluto leaving a trail of light a thin umbilical cord the theaters my heart to Earth.
Blue lights flickering On, Off nothing new on the News tonight broadcast lambasting bitch a shot in dark, bullets blast thru walls thin barriers By-by baby who cries no more. 
Red lights circle the darkness; they shimmer thru the window stretch across the wall slicing the darkness that pull my covers siren penetrate my ears. 
Pushers peddle poison, children, surrender their minds an even trade for the willing wanting to belong to something stolen long ago missed and forgotten but desired beyond measure.
Heartless defend turf to the death no sword to surrender, forged in words woven in hatred. Crusaders run gallantly into the night crazed jazzed, jammed, with twisted minds .
Honor defended to the death. Justice superimposed in the mind of children who kill one another for a lost cause a crusade of darkness their innocent lost to the streets.
Their lives meaningless to them, so precious to us remorse, rattled with rage beneath the surface. Mothers tear falls liquid diamonds that cry for the precious souls lost to eternity.
All that's left is a white outline of a nameless body sketch on the blacktop written on faces in remorse, whose silhouette fade underneath the forgotten footsteps bleached by the sun.
 I hear "Baby Be Careful" as I slip out the back door leaping four steps into eternity, I fly down the back porch  running from the rat, roach infested tenement house.
I want to be with my friends those who stand by you thick or thin I am one of them win or loose no matter what.