Fred Is Dead

In our last post, we profiled Benjamin Mitchell, a former resident of Project HOME who is now involved in advocacy and peer support. Today, we print one of his poems. It was first published in Home at Ten, an anthology of creative writing and artwork to celebrate Project HOME's tenth anniversary in 1999.

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This is dedicated to Fred R., who was killed on October 27, 1982. Unable to send flowers due to incarceration, I wrote this.  

Fred is dead, yeah, that’s what I said.

Drug pusher, gangster Fred is dead . . .  

He had a tombstone heart and a graveyard mind . . .

Wonder what his thoughts were as he lay dying . . .

Wonder if he repented for the road He took,

or did he go out like a super crook . . .

As he lay there bleeding in the street,

did he think of the families he’s made weep . . .  

Now he’s dead, they’ll bury him deep,

He was gunned down gangster-style on Oxford Street . . .

Please give me a moment of silence,

Please bow your head,

This is a toast for Fred R.,

Cause Fred is dead . . .

He died in true mobster fashion.

His life was a crime of passion,

but he was who he wanted to be

Made his mark, now he’s history . . .

  From those of us who weren’t envious of his fame,

We bid him farewell – The game won’t be the same.