Next door to the fire Chief
His tree fell
Broke our fence
We sued but lost
What niggas doing in Paradise
Where you get your money nigger
You dope dealer
Paradise burned
My patron's house
Fire Chief house
Every house
Every building
Paradise no more
beautiful space
Pine trees
Canyon no more
What about before the fire
Land soaked in Native American blood
No sharing the land
Blood
Yankee hill blood
I lived near Yankee hill
Not far from Paradise
Spent five years in Cherokee
Five years in solitude
Rolling hills
Hawk
Wild turkeys
Deer at my door
Went to Feather River to swim
We had cows horses
Horses love oats
Like a nigga love pork chops
Horses greedy
Push cows out the way
For hay, especially oats
Well water sweeter than juice
Never bought juice
After five years healing
Wrote five books
Return to city of madness
City of fear unhappiness
Trauma grief
But I was healed
Neuroplasticity
Brain cells changed
I will never be the same
After solitude
After the hawk turkeys cows horses
Pine trees deer feather River swim
Bees flies lizards in my house
I never killed
Just asked to leave
And they did
Door was open
But Paradise no more
Cherokee no more
Yankee Hill stands
Blood soaked land stands
Native voices yet cry across rolling hills
Used to hear their voices in the wind.
--Marvin X
10/31/19
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