Paradise Management tormented my mentally disabled mother
with harassment to move out of her apartment in a region where I carried Anne
Frank in my arms while shadows of burnt-out buildings and bullies fell over
us. It seemed clouds drifted from Europe
after World War II and over The South Bronx of America.
Here is an old saying renewed and redone: poverty leads to
crime and Riker’s Island Prison across the East River. And then there are
revolutions.
We had war games in abandonment not far from the military
recruiting stations where some of us enlisted for adventure and see the world.
We, The Children of The South Bronx of America were in our version of
Apocalypse Now. We loved the smell of firecrackers and skyrockets in the summer
mornings that rehearsed us for the 4th of July.
I discovered the true meaning of freedom when I jumped off a
bridge and onto the back of a freight train heading into a red sun on the
tracks like a wormhole to another reality.
Of course, I came back from ‘Krypton’ to fight the SS, short
for Savage Skulls.
They were a Puerto
Rican gang with swastikas sewn onto the backs of cut-off denim jackets. Their
Doberman Pinchers patrolled streets spotted like leopards in cages at The Bronx
Zoo. Compare that to Puerto Ricans drafted in huge numbers to liberate Great
Britain, France and on and on to fight Nazis that made Jews homeless in
Holocaust.
This city of the world of illegal guns and roses is, in
part, shades of Nazism.
I’m fed up with the narcissism of inhumanity. They produce
pain and death.
Yet I see potential for a musical in all this like Les
Miserables. I’ll write it.
After I give Paradise Management Hell From Above. It’s
lawsuit time.
Poetic Justice is the first warning shot from my pen.
After the smoke clears, let’s make movie.
It’s more believable than real life.
To Sleep, Perchance To Pitch Nightmares To DreamWorks: Real
Life Comic Book Cyber Journal Of The Better Angels Of Our Nature By Danny
Aponte of P.S 161
Chapter One: It was a dark and stormy knight of Jedi
journalism
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