June Barefield

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I am honored to write this foreword for Mr. Barefield. June is an unassuming, humble man and a very talented Poet and human being. I am going to be brutally honest and say that I ADORE his work. I cannot imagine a bigger fan than I. The poems in this book are a must read! I want to shout it to the world that the man is genius.

His work, some may find eclectic, I find it awakening my humanity, interesting, stimulating my senses and was sorry to read the last page, so I read the manuscript again. He is a modern day Jack Kerouac or Charles Bukowski, with his Beat Style Poetry and creative innovations in verse.

I am well aware that June is well read without him ever telling me, and he has not. Read his works and see for yourself. The man is as educated as anyone with a Master's Degree, with his penning a poem so tight that you fully get his vision. You will feel, hear, see, taste and smell his story. There is love, hate, rage, gentleness and always a respect for his God and Mother.

From these Urban streets you will get a clear view of how it really is. His descriptive verses take you there, and when he is angry, you are angry too! He also shines a light on socially conscious issues and is a very in your face poet, though as a friend, he is as gentle as a lamb, loyal and the kind of man that has your back. What can I say, I love June and all that he stands for. I am happy to call him Brother, for he is like a Brother to me and my new Favorite Author.

I urge each of you to buy this book, and take a walk with June, and to see the world through his eyes, the eyes of a true visionary. There is never a dull moment, or a lag in his story telling. You'll be inspired to get out there and do something to make this world a better place. Thank you June, and Congratulations!


Janet P. Caldwell

Author ~ Poet

Whatever Man

From 'Ole Honest Abe in the dayz of old

to Prescott Bush with his Nazi gold,

FIRE, water, ice & BOMB~BLAST 4 what you've sold

Stolen diamonds, rubies, sapphires & all precious metals i'm told

Secret wars waged in your fathers name

From ancient times to present day

March in bearing the cross, blasphemy iz ya mommas thang, so who's to blame

March out with negro's beaten into submission, to tote the load in shame

Them come that they may civilize the savage with a little christianity,

Eroding the very fabric of humanity, clothed in the sheath of insanity - Contaminating all truths,

A damnation

A calamity iz your vanity

Chickens come home when they roost though, huh?

Same one popped ABE in his dome now terrorizes your home, so you come up wit some new laws, and legislate exasperated sensational fantastic frantic Bullshyt

same chrome you've legalized for a profit, now profits off your tears - The devil's happy too! He's never alone...

Laughing cuz ni99az iz packin' like paupers, killing off they peers,

Geared up playin' copy cat, walkin' 2 1/2 steps back, nap sack full a crack, claimin' this set & that

It's all Brown on Brown & Black on Black

Stacking chips from sunken battleships, and shattered remnants of a hope deemed ameriKan for this evil clan


Promises promises man...

In fact...

Ur mind-state is so inflated you imitate chuck, and partake in fake debate, wait till the proper pawns in place

Framed discussions without percussion, just a bunch a treble, and a lot a nothing', bluffing your way out of what's coming,

Something’s gotta give today, Bee cuz tomorrow may B to late

The games we play for a scrap'a what the fuggs on charlie's plate,

You're being led astray by heretics & thieves

Apostates with reprobate mind-states, straining your faith & love thru a wicked sieve


The Project iz for a new ameriKan century, but it seems it's just been packaged up differently

Principalities & powers still kill off the innocent for a mutha’ fuckin’ dollar bill

"Makes me wanna holler" !!

I'm good wit these hands, but i'm throwin' up 9INE shots like I ought a,

The Earth iz my turf, when I share it with you

Gotta a lotta souljah's holding' down the Truth, putting a stop to the slaughter of our youth

Proof's in Grannies Pudding', and

grannie wouldn't lie,

she's walked way to many miles

in beaten, battered




Magnified in the eyes of them who's retribution iz pollution & crime

substandard food entities placed in your communities to shackle you in sickness with no forgiveness

yep. yep.

We live this!

GUTTER precepts from gutter concepts, like gutter breakfast, gettin' gutter restless

We gotta get up & get, get down

fuck 911,

Negero's need to put it down...

Move further

Momz & fathers

get there faster

last longer

cuz we stronger...

Right or wrong, the watchword & Banner to carry iz our own

Let the tradition B wisdom,

teach 'em metaphysical, spiritual type Ithaca’s

Beyond space & time, or any physical type systems

Steeped from steeples of peoples who aint never been equals

In realms held in helmz, controlled no more by tethers from another’s quiver

delivered by boat on ocean flights, floated up rivers to masters down south,

Left shaken to shiver & cry tearz of trepidation & fear, thru clinched teeth & closed mouth

The 9inth house...

I Am the light of my consciousness, there iz no fear inside this circle; within this sphere


Where a sustainable inner shines thru to the outer, never again 2B suffocated or smothered

God gives grace to souls for life

Him not give grace to EGO's that's trife...

The power of wrong has imprisoned the power of right - Right?

The majority's been silenced

The media's spineless -

frightened by corporate structure's alliance

The masses show no defiance as we sit back & watch the War machine holler TRIUMPH!

The Devil has never been so happy!!

He's got everybody lying...

So resident fellows create A rationale with their IVY League think tankers

stock brokers, big wiggers, politicians & bankers

Life takers

makers of thought

creators of reason & rot

catch on to the hustle?

Them throw the change up, and take it all back to the top

Judges with grudges looked upon like saints

Bought and sold votes, conniving & conspiring

Contriving a new way of keeping you lame

Like the Lioness, and you R her prey...

Yep. Yep.

I'm a talk a lil SHIT today!


Before the Dawn has been lingering inside of me for many years; as I have always written. Essays, Poems, Short Stories, and Thoughts that mostly I was unable to share or express in any other way besides writing them down. This collection of thoughts & poems comes from that place just before the dawn. A dark place mostly I'd venture to say. It's a collection of memories, theories, and observations of all I have encountered in this dark place up until now. There is certainly a sense of majesty if one has the where with all to encounter the dawn, and experience that dark, quiet place it provides just before the sun comes up and brightens not only the earth, but our countenances as human beings.

Over the years I have trained myself to rise early, and embrace this place; this darkness and calm. Often times I consecrate these early morning hours to writing, and studying. Most of the luxuries, and many of the so called comforts in life are not only not indispensable, but positive hindrances not only to our own development, but to the development of mankind in it's entire. I have lived a life mostly clouded in darkness, and clinging to despair as a sort of off beat strength, understood by no one including myself. This darkness became very visible to those around me earlier on in my life, while I let false pride and anger cloud everything. This anger; this torment if you will you shall encounter within the pages of this work. I'd hope it serves as a source of empowerment, and provides any one who reads this work a bit of awareness, and power to move through life a giver.

When I was very young I had an uncle who was one of very few who knew my passion; or almost need to write things down. He would teasingly call me a poet, and tell me that all poets are poor. He'd say, "boy you are going to be a broke ass poet, but that's o.k. I think you have got a story to tell so tell it; don't hide it, tell it..."

I smile inside when I recall him and his teasing, and today joyfully I think he may have been correct. I have found that sometimes the very nature of this art is absolutely lonely. Before the dawn delves into this loneliness, and despair with an unending will to persevere and to triumph. Before the dawn is complete with a street vernacular and attitude some will maybe have to have translated. Throughout the entirety of this en devour of mine to bring the darkness to the light; you shall encounter faith, and hope, and love. Love for people even in darkness, hope for the survival of humanity, and consciousness, and faith in the life giving power of the ALMIGHTY.

It seems I have traveled a million miles in one second on the one hand, and one the other it seems as if the million miles have taken a million years! I've felt the wings on the winds of madness, and I have also succumb to the gentle breeze of tranquility. I have found that life more than anything is a balancing act of compassion coupled with it's opposite, and we must be wary not to fall by the wayside of violence, and intemperance for others. B 4 the Dawn has a distinct autobiographical tempo and tenor at the core. It is a journey down through plush valleys, up over rugged mountains, scaling dreadful cliffs, and it also delves darkly at times into a very depressed state where this Darkness is very visible.

I often dream of the times I hear people speak of today when poets would sit around a table and rap into the twilight about departed souls, and the night, and the sunshine, and a cloudy dream where peace reigns listening to music, and really being alive. Innocent times if such a thing really ever existed. If so I believe this world lost it's innocence long before I came to be. I believe if the world was ever; at any time in balance and harmony that today, sadly it is wildly off kilter. I have personally spent the majority of my life all alone in the teeming crowd, desperately searching for an identity to cling to. I painstakingly thought this was the way I would uncover this darkness and poke through the other side of the chasm into the light. Always a lost seeker somehow drowning inside the invented common identity.

Before the Dawn I like now; was always a secret dreamer, but I willingly placed a revolver inside the pocket of my heart which extinguished any trace of light. I have since been able to greet solitude as a friend, and build a comfortable place for my soul to be at ease and at peace there. Amazingly I am never alone! I believe I can see traces of light up ahead where the dawn inside of me is beginning to arise while the poem of creation remains uninterrupted before this dawn and on into the next...


June Barefield 


June Bug

People need Hope

Readily do I recognize the devil

Him steady shoveling shyt for a promise, promised to several

painting perfect pictures painstakingly in vain through some preacher in his prose

People, they need hope; so

Him sell it like dope

Steadily do I dance in the light of only half moons

Headily I’m cautious w/0 a healthy seed to plant, nourish, and groom

Soon them say...

In the meeting places of man & his religions

A greeting house of fakeness

Nickel slick hustle of fancy talk, and educations

replacing real with dress code, concert quire, and 5dollar CD package

Hustling the Truth, and guarding it with lies...

Them "dancing with the devil in the shadow of the pail moonlight"

Sight unseen right?

Inside minds EyE I contemplate meditations now a gasp

Perhaps a remedy will relieve this unsettling poison lying dormant in my gut

The Lion of Judah; Him courage don't corrupt

Iz your love of God a mere mental masturbatory copulation?

A fraud?

Your morality to me iz odd...

From the preacher in the pulpit,

I see a culprit who interprets Truth; then sells you some bullshyt

Frustrating signs from a bunch of baffling, babbling buffoons’,

Silver tongued diviners who dine with golden spoonZ

I have taken a look around,

I've actually walked the ground, from my town to yours

I see the poor sent off to War,

still we pity the un-pretty & aint no love in the city

From the boulevard in which I grew, to the avenues of my youth



U sell it like dope,

an old Wino comes into the church house in order to get out of the cold

U rush him to the back pew

sit him right by the doe'

When U leave the sanctuary you snicker & joke

The sinister inflections I can hear in your voice

U pull up to the store & lock all your doors

U see sufferers all around

Ur self righteousness abounds

Your astounded, surrounded by what seem to be your own

Old woman inside, she 'bout a dollar & a half short

U standing' right behind her & could have easily given,

you're to pious inside to even consider a loan

So you sway back & forth with nothing refreshing to say

thinking, I’ve given to my church home, I wish she'd just get out the way

"What would Jesus do?" written above license plates,

Can't U see the church staring you right in your face?

Your message iz toxic, quixotically nauseous, extravagantly nonsense

all you really do iz take, and you expect your recompense

Suspended in your animated, made up cheap grace,

Easy believe-ism schisms, running the rabbits race,

I see it in the eyes of the despised

What you obviously don’t realize...


Y U sell it like dope?

02 Save the Children.mp3