bratty kids they can’t even control. Their husbands have left them. What it all boils down to is - that there’s not one kosher thought in their head towards humanity. BIKER LOVE They ride with the - wind behind their backs, and the world greeting - them head on. They seem fearless, and challenge anyone - that dares to challenge them in life. ‘Cause they’ve known - happiness and strife, it’s a known fact. They ride leather clad, and in full gear, in full force - with power and command. They are tall, burly, strong - and sometimes reckless men. But, they pride themselves - with their tattoos, long hair, female companions and biker - camaraderie all the way. Biker love is free spirited, and must be endured one - step at a time, day by day. It’s the biker love for freedom - and they ride in pacts, like wolves hungry to - devour more love and freedom, from life without delay. And some ride onward escaping - their pasts, dispelling their fears. Some ride onward in search of - 130
new horizons, in search of a heaven without a hell. In search of a solid love that’ll - last and only time will tell. In search of a world that’ll - understand them, except them, as they are and they travel - near and far for these convictions. Biker love can be a cool love, most regularly a tough love. Where there’s smoke there’s fire. You must avow to their program, and conditions, ‘cause the - biker lifestyle is a test of time, with a pure thrill and desire to - create longevity without dishonor that’s meant to survive by. Those tolerant to the codes, will survive the formats of their world. MARRIAGE You don’t own your husband, you don’t own your wife, you don’t own your children. Marriage isn’t an estate - where both partners are protectorates over the property or each other. A husband and wife - are an entity, one network. Husbands, wives and children - are not things, they are beings. You cannot own people anymore. Slavery is emancipated. Children aren’t clones, - they are extensions of you. They’re little people with - minds of their own. They deserve respect and require - understanding and patience. 131
Freedom is essential for a - family to remain committed to each other within a marriage. Give one another room to grow. Respect each other’s thoughts - so when you’re speaking together you’ll eventually identify - with each other emotionally, spiritually. Communication is the key. Only then can the love flourish - and prosper within the marriage, and strengthen the family. NOTORIOUS I sit on a bench, along the country-sides - meditating, reading and writing. Suddenly, I notice the - biggest of the littlest black ants boards my shoulder. I flick it away but, it’s fearless, notorious, risky and opportunistic. It ventures my direction again, eager to board my shoulder. In the world of humans, the size and weight of a person shouldn’t matter at all, as long as they can get along - with one another. But, in the world of insects - I’m a giant in size and weight, I’m sure through their eyes. How then can the ant be so bold - to explore my presence and territory. Though the ant was no - real annoying threat to me, could it truly believe I was - of no possible harm to it, 132
and trusted my instincts? Can people now learn to trust - each other’s instincts as the ant did mine, and get along together ? Have you ever studied ants - building an ant pile? What a network they are. Have you ever studied people - while working in an office? How chaotic they are. THE SILENCE When the poetry isn’t entering my mind, and the fire and power - of words and thoughts, aren’t shattering my heart - enabling me to express myself, write and impart - with my soul at your mercy to be explored and explore - you inside your world, there’s merely the silence - that comforts me with the love well cherished for you. BLOSSOMING Perhaps if it - was the right guy, it would’ve been perfect … on the top - of a car hood, or in the back - of a car seat, where other girls - became women, when they lost it. 133
But, I lost it - in a soft, warm and clean sack - where I preferred it. Where it was most comfortable, and shedding no regrets, even though I - didn’t marry him. I was an older bird, that didn’t feel embarrassed - featherless, flightless or useless. I felt beautiful, and I knew … I was still blossoming. SARAH Sarah, what a sweet lil’ face she had - like mint julep. Too bad - they govern her mind. She’s the company imp. ENEMY AMONGST THE ENEMIES I’ve played all their games, and found freedom and reform. Am I their friend or foe? I never enrolled as a permanent - member in any of their clicks, or clans. Total submission is their will. But, I didn’t conform - so I’m an enemy amongst the enemies, amongst society but - I choose not to be controlled. 134
INFIDELITY We learn early as a child … how to color the patterns of speech. From the first day of school - when the kids tease you and hurt you, we learn to lie to appease them for friendship. And when the teacher dislikes or ignores you, we learn to invent fantasy, recreate reality for her attention. Or even when the principal scolds you … we learn to cop a plea! even though we were wrong to avoid suspension. From an early age we learn how to lie - to save our neck or hide! Little white lie, or the grand finale – straight faced and bare faced lie! We learn to lie, so why are we so surprised – when we are deceived by each other in our adult lives? Have we not forgotten how hideous we are as animals, and that we are temporary cageless exhibitions, imperfect as prototype, and mainly ridiculous – creatures of habit? SHIMMER He spends his precious time falling in and out of love - with stupid bitches that use him, don’t deserve him. He’s an overnight success. But, shortly thereafter - his fortune, and fame will shimmer, until it fades away from sight. I’m out of my head for him, and my love won’t just shimmer - but will remain a beacon of light forever. He must learn to trust again. 135
GOD’S WAKE-UP CALL It’s almost dawn, I hear a chirp, chirp here - and a chirping there, everywhere throughout the house. They’re always in sync, their timing’s perfect. Those lil’ darling birds that chirp just before dawn. I open one eye and squeeze out a yawn! I’m slowly awakening to the day’s beginning, without the noisy alarm clock penetrating my mind. They’re God’s natural wake-up call. God’s natural way of terminating the sleep cycle. Chirp, chirp! there on the windowsill – they embrace the glorious new day, and greet the radiant sun at play! Chirp, chirp! they motion me to perform my daily drill. There’s work to do, life isn’t just fun and play! So I hurry! before dusk returns to finalize the night from day. Chirp, chirp! what’s left to say - except there’s a purpose for everything in nature. If we remain tuned to her laws we’ll remain in harmony forever. 136
SLAVE They’ve made us the slave, stolen us as slaves, bought, sold, used, and abused the slave. But, the blackness - was beaten down to the bone of the slave, yet, never quite stripped - from the skin of the slave. Then they finally - educated and refined the slave. And he lives amongst them, unconfined. We live amongst them, much obliged. Though educated we might be, and stimulated we might be - “n ---- r” is what they still, choose to invent simply. A phrase they refer to irrationally - amongst our creed, with their hate and jealousy. Yes, after all these years, freedom is something we - fought for, killed for, begged and pleaded to die for – and now we’re free. Free to breathe, believe. But only to face new defeat, a new battlefield, fight a new war… on enslaved territory! Become enslaved under a - new regime of iniquity. And my God! this time - it’s not them that are the enemies. It’s us ourselves, our kind - to blame you see. How blind can we be? Such shame brought on - by this testimony. We’ve adopted to their phrase, “n ---- r” so comfortably. So cruelly when referring to - 137
one another belligerently. Have we tired of our freedom so quickly! Are we so restless that we’ve resorted to killing? Worst yet; killing ourselves in stupidity! A weapon we’ve learned to utilize all too easily. “nigger”, a living terror! A now permanent fixture … within the Webster dictionary. SKYLARK AND VENTURA I bought a parakeet, named him Skylark. His cage was huge, and decorated beautifully. He was company for me, because I was alone at the time - in my beautiful huge house. But I noticed daily that - he started to look lonely. Obviously he needed company, and not just me the - caretaker who feeds him. So I bought another parakeet, named her Ventura. Perfect, they both were company, to each other in their - huge beautiful cage. But Ventura became aggressive, and battled with Skylark. Stealing his food from his bowl, when she had her own. And dominating the toys - he would play with, when there were others - for her to toy with. She would chirp relentlessly, for no apparent reason. She’d agitate Skylark. Now he chirps noisily so much - I can’t even hear myself talk on the phone. So I separated Skylark and Ventura. 138
They dwell in beautiful - but separate cages. They chirp quietly now. They eat alone, what a pity - they stare at each other from a distance. They couldn’t become friends. They cannot become mates. They will not live together. Kinda’ like humans - wouldn’t ya say?. ME When he gets tired of tolerating their foolish games, as they menace and challenge his - mind with sacrilege and worldly galactica slime. When the money - runs out and the power sinks low, when they earnestly lust - for his eyes, his lips, his hair, but could care less whether - his career charters up or down. When they don’t sincerely - listen to the music in his heart, and merely succeed at ravishing - and draining his soul and spirit, while slithering up against him - tearing his body apart; - when the fans expel and loose faith in him when - nothing dispels his fears, and he loses faith in himself - who’ll be there for him? To caress him, believe in him, love him and watch him - rejoice in his world, with his poetry, music, and be the greatest fan - beside him forever? “Me.” 139
DRUNKENNESS You remember what time - you left home, but you forget what time - you came in. You remember you drank a lot, but, don’t remember what you drank. You remember talking to - many goof-balls, but, forgot half their names. The music was loud to your ear, but sounded and felt - good to your body. You danced all night - and didn’t want to go home. You spent too much money, and will probably never find your way back to - that same bar again. But, you left just in time - before the bartender became intolerant, to throw you out. You manage to make it home, but, lost a shoe and set of keys. You were drunk and lonely - but had a good time, at least, you told yourself you did - in a state of oblivion. You care not to remember correctly, totally … so there’s no trace of regret. And I can bet! you’ve been in my shoes before. We’ve all been there, - Drunkenness... 140
DREAMS ( II ) I dream, you dream, we all dream. God presents himself - in our dreams. Henceforth, sleep provides two purposes, physical and mental rest - from labor, toil and stress. And what’s life worth - without your dreams? A mind that doesn’t cultivate your dreams, doesn’t expand, doesn’t prosper. A mind that doesn’t prosper, doesn’t welcome the opportunity - of plausibility within new dreams. A mind that doesn’t dream, doesn’t except universal change - within its cerebral spheres. Stifling, unreformed, unbalanced cerebral spheres - produce unreformed, unbalanced life patterns. Without the power of life you age. Without the power of thought - the mind sleeps and destroys, its concrete, collective beauty within the self-being that’s governed - by the mind and therefore finally; becoming an internal, diurnal dead recluse. SHARE THE LAND I once sold flowers on the sidewalks of King St. in Toronto. And a trumpeter was selling his - music across the street from me. What a pity, he wanted to feud over territory. He played his sweet blue melodies, before the young bloods - traveling to and fro. 141
As my refrain echoed out - in the dry, thick, drab of the evening, “flowers, flowers anyone for your ladies, flowers, flowers anyone?”. My flowers were fresh and beautiful! But lost in the reverie - I heard the trumpeter’s high “C” notes ring-out his heart’s longing, yearning! Yet he sneered at me in dreadful despair. I could tell he wanted me to disappear, allowing him to credit all the - local talent unto himself and make all the money. Talent is a gift from God. We we’re both salespeople and - needed to make a living that night. Why couldn’t he share the land! THE LIES The lies, lies, lies oh the little white lies - she tells constantly; to help shield her from the pain. While they say she’s - living in suspense. Her refrain to the world - is that she’s happy and content, and has a lot to live for. But do they know this for sure. She wears a face of solitude, while holding a full bouquet - of faith and hope held high in the sunshine. But deep inside she fears there’s danger in the skies - that the faith will die at night and the hope will wilt - when gone is the sunlight And so the lies - breed within her mind. 142
But she smiles to the world a kind generous smile; trying to hide the sorrow reflecting deep within her eyes. She tries to disguise the - void in her heart. The barrenness in her womb, and the injustice tainting her pride. So she lies these little white lies - all year round to conceal the truth from being revealed - to people about her dysfunctional youth. Some people love her, wish her well. She may be confused - because she’s been severely hurt. Can she believe their love’s sincere and awaiting her, is it a lie also? Sometimes it’s hard to tell. FAKE EXPERIENCES Goofy people; they have their college degrees. They wear their life - and heart out on a sleeve. They’d kill and die for what - they believe in life to be known as truth. They compete with me and you, the old against the youth. Except, they’re always fronting, talking, smiling, and practicing in disguise. They epitomize the intelligentsia. But they don’t realize those educated fools; how nervous they are as they fake their experiences. 143
Liars at large. So I can see through their lies because their actions prove - the idiocy and insecurity of the characters they continually project. They need not prove anything, or project something. Just be silent - and correct beauty. MISUNDERSTOOD ( NOVEMBER 28, 1956 ) I love me - respect me, believe in me, and understand me. What a pity though; I had the right - ingredients blended inside of me and cooked tenderly - inside my mommy’s lil oven. Yet I was born prematurely. Yes two months too early you see. I guess that’s why - most people misunderstand me all my life. I’m always trying to prove myself simply. Guess you could say - I’m chronically misunderstood. BEWARE OF THE DISGUISES Dread locks, braids, curls, wavy hair, straight hair, blondes, red heads and brunettes. Blue eyes, brown eyes, amber, hazel, green, black eyes. Reggae style, American style, Eastern style - don’t forget a snake is a snake by any creed. Beware of the disguises. 144
MASKED I saw a very pretty girl on the bus today. She sat uptight and rigid, with arms crossed-bowed and locked like a stern Court Marshall - awaiting a prisoner. Unrelenting to smile - she peered straight ahead meditating, and focusing on nothing - positive or beautiful. Even though her features pronounce the perfect façade, - beauty is still skin deep. And the look on her face was taut, oblique and reflected - her cold spirit from within. But what a pretty face she had. Yet she grimaced and frowned - during the entire bus ride. With such negativity in her eyes - I caught her staring at me with much ugliness twisting her lips. I thought to myself - someone so pretty masked by such grave jealousy - and smitten with such evil thoughts. If she could only hear me reading her mind out loud - oh how she could fortify her beauty and recreate a master painting; of herself that would remain - priceless to the world. YOU ( II ) As I lay here beside you - caressed by the warmth of the sun, I slowly awaken with you - 145
tapered securely to my side. Like a solid shield - your body rescuing mine. And so I can enter the world peacefully; having escaped the harrowing - fears from the night before. And all that I want to - say to you in a thousand words is spoken ever so clearly - through the silence. And I look in your eyes, and see the beauty - of our existence. I unfold and unwrap layers - of you, embracing your soul, as I feel the power of your - spirit sending me into rapture. Again, I look into your eyes and realize that I am - safe within this world. For you are my fortress, you are my knight, you are my love. I needn’t be wanton of anything more. My past is forgotten. My future is before us, and the present tense - distinguishes our solidarity. With faith I adore you, and only ask for forgiveness if I’ve made any misjudgment of you. I merely succumb to you. I pray our love lives on forever. INNER CITY BLUES Peter and Paul - say they’re friends. They attend the same school, they’re in the same - 146
history class together. Both like football, and hockey. Both can take a woman down - to the depths of her soul, and make her bare all. Both get drunk - and become assholes at the same bars. But Peter and Paul don’t dwell in - the same neighborhood. One lives two blocks from the other, and the other - lives around the corner from the two blocks. Peter and Paul - are inseparable some say. They’re known to everyone, except their parents. They don’t visit - together on holidays. They don’t patronize their cultural festivities together. They both share Biblical names - but they worship separately. They’re excellent, intelligent, kind, loving men. But Peter and Paul, share one dilemma called - inner city blues because, together their color - defames society’s orthodoxy. MARRIAGE I don’t want to lead - I don’t want to follow. Like Siamese twins neck and neck, 147
like Adam and Eve limb to limb, we inhale, exhale - breath to breath. Latitude and longitude - the waltz of matrimony taken step by step. An extension of you - together we endure side by side, til’ death do we part - as we gracefully age. But I love you endlessly. LOVE Love … The nucleus The in-explosive atom - That Hitler couldn’t split. The nucleus and its’ neutrons: Maternal matter Paternal matter Filial matter The nucleus and its’ protons: Fraternal matter Heterosexual matter Unconditionally, irreversibly, universally - together they combine one matter, one cell. Love, an eternal source. 148
CHARTERING THROUGH INTERMISSION My feet are callous right now, my fingernails need manicuring. I’m tired, weary and chartering - through intermission. I must settle the score. But I am alive - and full of tuition. So I hold the - music and poetry, in my head. I must trail onwards - and prosper towards eternity. OBLIGED I didn’t come - from the gutter. I came from the ghetto. I’m no million dollar superstar. But I’m much obliged - to thank God because, it could have been worst for me. So I’m doing fine you see; and made it this far - from whence I started. HELL He split a particular atom - henceforth, the bomb was born. And he tortured six million of God’s creation; watching them die, vanish. The other beautiful zillions of life form - tarried on but, torn by the beasts, madmen, savages. Political and religious leaders quarrel over denominations - on earth, heaven and hell. Who will or won’t be saved. 149
What’s next, whose left? Who’ll live to feel it, see it, hear it, write it, tell it, smell it; the last decaying - smoldering ashes of dead bodies that once lived on earth, under God’s glorious heaven. Who would’ve thought all along - We were treading on a living hell. THE OPPOSITE OF - COLD HANDS, WARM HEART He was so strong. His face so beautiful - his hands always so warm. They stayed warm. Like a warm blooded reptile - he’s practiced his every move. My mind is strong - my face is beautiful. My heart is full of love, but, my hands are - sometimes cold. My circulation is getting low. I’m getting older. His warm hands - could comfort me forever. His warm hands - his cold heart. Why won’t he be good to me. HUMBLE BEGINNINGS The sun suddenly rises, you wake up in the morning grumpy or happy; once more - be thankful you’ve returned from the night before. You brush your teeth, comb your hair, get dressed, eat breakfast, 150
read the paper, kiss the kids off to school - then, it’s off to work for you. A ritual so perfect, so well rehearsed. The sun slowly sets, you return from work safely thank God. You cook dinner, assist the kids with school work. Discuss daily events with your husband. Then sober-up with an evening cocktail and with a little family prayer - a day in the life was successful without arguments. The moon has finally shone forth. The kids are fast asleep. The radio is playing our favorite song. A little kiss here, a little dance there, we realize all the worldly snobbish people - aren’t half as happy as we are. With their lavish cars, homes, riches, rings and things of great - value or importance. Their lives aren’t rich and somber with love and peace. As the mere thought of you and I trading places with any of them, would poison our souls, killing us instantly. Because our humble beginnings are priceless, bearing no regrets. Yet, every breath we take - means everything to us. There’s nothing left the world could offer us - ‘cept more strength to go on together living humbly forever. 151
SILENCE The traffic ! The traffic … Oh, so much traffic! There’s no stop and go signs. There’s so much noise - from the traffic. The screeching, blatant noise stirring from the traffic - in my mind. Stop, make it stop! - before I have an accident in the real world. Slow down the traffic, then the noise will stop. There must be silence upstairs - so I can function properly downstairs. There must be silence, enough silence, to hear him speak - to me softly more often. MY HUSBAND SAID My husband said - I could have any man I wanted in life. But why couldn’t he see; I only wanted him in life - with all his faults, etc. I made a choice in life to love him till - death do we part. I didn’t choose to pass - him up for someone better. He was special to me, and special in my heart - but he couldn’t change 152
his demeaning ways. Finally the hardships - took its toll on us, and left us fewer - days of happiness. Our marriage was short-lived. We have separated, and it is not easy; to find and have - any man I want. MY LOVE I’m in love - with brown eyes. I’m in love - with blue eyes, green, hazel, amber and dark black - velvety eyes like onyx. As long as those eyes - have a soul. A soul that reflects love, God and the beauty of nature. As long as those eyes - perpetuate understanding, patience and forgiveness, then my eyes - must meet theirs straight on. Then I will - love him, marry him. My love - will abode in his house. GHETTO TALK I ain’t come from no gutter - I is from da’ ghetto. 153
If y’all come from da’ gutter, and da’ ghetto - be strong ya’ hear me? Pull yo’ selves together - home boy, home girl. All y’all brothers and sisters. Y’all can survive dis.’ Y’all can rise above dis’. Y’alls gonna’ succeed one day - Y’all will. I did. YOU ( III ) The clock I set the night before carefully and timely - awakens me to prepare for the day ahead of me once more. So I clutch you so tightly in my arms and emphatically - embrace your warm body that teases me with your charm. I squeeze and squeeze out - those last special minutes, moments with you in loving care. Unwilling to leave you bedside. Like a cat tempered by catnip; I purr and purr in hopes of finding an excuse to delay leaving, - and making me stay. But nothing ever subsides. I would like to kiss it all away. I mean the reason why I - set the clock in the first place. But I don’t dare be late - for the bus ride to that mundane job. So like a starving, hungry leopard I growl and tare away from - the tantalizing lust for the 154
salt of your skin. The intriguing flesh that will satisfy me deep within my soul. And the look in your eyes puts me at risk every time. But I refrain and venture - out into the jungle governed by my daily chores. But oh God! how it’s hard not to be attached - and lured by you. Mr. GOLDEN DEAL It’s another day, another dollar. We’re somehow all slaves, no matter whether you’re - white collar, or blue collar. When we feel down - in the dumps, when life’s unbearable, and really sucks - when done with that nine-to-five, adrenalin kicks in. You needn’t call us twice. It’s oh so very nice, the high. Just a flick of the switch - and there you are, on the radio, stereo, carrying the magic - in your hands. You spin the sounds - of tomorrow’s hits, and we listen collectively - filling our world, with musical bliss. Mr. Golden Deal - you know who you are. Tougher than steal, you might tease us - 155
when we call, or sometimes hold back … our favorite song. It’s your way of - making us beg but, eventually you’ll come through - ‘cause it’s what you do best don’t you? Just spinning the songs - on the radio that we long to hear. The message is - all to clear. Our days and nights, are baptized into a - new life of musical sanctity. WHO’S THE BOSS A job is a job. Hopefully, you’re secure - and happy with yours. ‘Cause we all bear some form - of servitude in our lives for mere sustenance. Some jobs, and careers measure up - to the titles achieved. But there’s one secret advice - that I’d like to share with you throughout my experiences. You can portray a perfect picture - of an outstanding employee, but, a great employee is only half - the merit of an outstanding employer, who’s a genius at portraying a - perfect picture of a great supervisor, not just a loud-mouthed, bad-ass boss! Some could be, would be, if they only knew how to be - great employers forgot to 156
take the course on - Common Mechanics of Supervising. And with mediocrity they settled on - fronting the image of an over-powerful, yet, successful pain in the ass, do as I say, I’m a stupid bitch, like it or not but, I’m the boss; - with in your face boss’s attitude. Get the picture? You go figure! JAIL And you’re snatched-up from your nice warm, soft - cuddly bed and pillow, where you blanket your dreams - in peaceful serenity, and transferred to a hard - cold, stiff, narrow cell bench, where you’re anything but comfortable - as your dreams are millions of light years away. You lay there alarmed, wretched, forbidden - and the only thing you blanket, are the drastic noises of the gates - slamming open, then slammed shut by the enforcers who without pity - happily condemn you as the damned, subjected to scrutiny - and rejected from freedom. A hell-hole in the wall, a place where no one should spend - their precious time. GRAVEYARDS You contract more muscles, and produce more lines - and wrinkles when you frown. 157
And if looks could really kill - then all the dirty evil grimaces people solicit to each other daily, would have murdered over - half-a-million people in life, and there wouldn’t have been - enough graveyards to bury them all in. “ THE WALKER ” (Part Two) She’s very tall, six foot three perhaps. She’s Caucasian, approximately late thirties, early forties. She’s dirty-blonde, pretty, - could’ve been a model however, she wears too much make-up. She’s dressed casually, colorfully and clean. Her name is Donna. Rumor has it, she lost her mind during the madness of a bad - marital relationship with her husband. Henceforth, she lost her only child, her daughter to her relatives, and never seeing her daughter again; - then she became the walker. Morning, noon and night constantly, steadily reluctant to stop; - only at bed-time. Rumor has it, she lives - with an older, scummy, domineering, and cruel man. Rumor has it, he pimps her. So what, he feeds her a menial - plate of food here and there. Or buys her a cheap glass of wine here and there. To hell with him, - she needs medication, counseling, rehabilitation. Perhaps she’ll be able to recover custody - of her daughter one day. 158
Perhaps she’ll be able to live - successfully on her own again. Perhaps she’ll be able to develop, a career for herself, and the future - of her still blossoming daughter. He sits comfortably in a bar watching her parade - up and down the streets. Sometimes even across the street - from the bar he’s drinking in. People see her, Donna, and fret, complain, sigh, laugh, pity and even muse - at her whereabouts. She endures. She stays with him - repeatedly, willingly. What else does she have, who else could she turn to? He claims he cares. Obviously, he’s just security. Yes she’s the walker. Sometimes, she’s called other names, rude names by bastardly neighborhood children - who weren’t raised with decent morale. Donna is her name from birth. The walker is her street-name. How sad, perhaps she’ll get help for herself - when her consciousness finally collapses. When her heart and soul can no - longer continue aching in despair. When her mind suddenly reveals, the final truth that she’s decaying - slowly, and time’s running out, and her daughter grows up alone - raising her future daughter possibly in anger, regret and with mental instability. Who’s to blame for Donna’s condition? She’s still not yet beyond help. Where there’s a will there’s a way. For now she continues to walk - morn, noon and night. I don’t condone her, I pity her. 159
DARK VICTORY I won a lawsuit that granted six-thousand and managed to diminish my debts; - only to be smitten again with disappointment while - being temporarily severed from employment, and once more - fallen prey to my debts. CARPE DIEM My grandma adored - the story of Auntie Mame. I remember her and I watching - Auntie Mame on T.V. together. I also adore Auntie Mame. So with all do respects - and in the words of Auntie Mame, I quote “Life’s a banquet, and - most poor suckers are starving. So live, live, live”. And I say - to all of you darlings “Carpe Diem!” I’M STILL WAITING I’ve heard so many people say - “there’s someone out there, for everyone”. Well - my God, where the hell is he? I’m still waiting! 160
QUERY What’s worse … being young, miserable - or old and restless, or alive, happy, healthy - yet, coarse and selfish? ODE TO MOTHER TERESA They are the torn, worn, beat-down, unarmed. The marred, scarred - by work, toil, labor, life. They are our needy - and our poor. God bless Mother Teresa for all her endeavors – to christen their spirits, and salvage their souls. RIVERSTONE And you appear before me as a mist o’er the sea - a lavender and purple cloak that blankets so serene. Your face shines in the background - of the sun’s pale-orange haze. With you I’m never afraid; just simply amazed. Your soft spoken words of vision and hope - carry o’er the rocks, breaking gently ‘round the reef. Believing in you; my life’s made simple with room to cope. - You dwell with tranquility, you steady me. Your spirit calm, peaceful, and prickly to my skin, - as my blood’s rekindled with new life, I’m born again. You reveal yourself within the clouded mist o’er the river - you are love and your oneness has been delivered. I can’t swim unto you, yet I know I belong. Your presence greets me, I am made strong. My thoughts continue to ponder beyond the great deep sea - but I close my eyes forever feeling your eternal majesty. You appear before me under the mist o’er the sea, 161
‘neath it all you’re like a special little riverstone - I hold in reverence to thee. ‘‘SORRY, WRONG NUMBER’’ And sometimes the phone - is ringing off the wall. Is it someone important? Yet call after call; I surrender only to hear - “sorry, wrong number” my dear that’s all. SONG FOR SHARON You’re a good woman Sharon, Raised decent children too. Damn he didn’t appreciate you Sharon But the woman he chose – Will never replace you. Thought I saw a tear in your eye While listening to your heart confide I know you’ve endured the pain So I hope you fall in love again To have loved, lost and still can’t find Leaves me broken and it’s hard to smile – Guess it’s all the same inside, You learn to go on, what’s the use in crying 162
MORE HUMAN THAN HUMAN (A Metaphor) More Human than Human; “ To portray the world’s best image of : ” The Dedicated mom : To tolerate him and the brats 24 - 7. The maid : And be a clean, charming, meticulous housewife. The exquisite, exotic chef : Doctored-up T.V. Dinners and if necessary ; The sexy, romantic lover, don’t forget viagra. The loyal, trustworthy friend : Listen to his lies attentively. The energetic, intelligent playmate : His pet after a hard days’ work. The sultry, beautiful family entertainer : That means busy yourself during his business meetings, footballl, hockey and baseball nights. The thrifty, inquisitive accountant : Manage to pay the bills before he gambles them all away. The spiritual, gypsy, soothsayer : See into the future, predict the next win at O.T.B. The patient, devoted, teacher, nurse : When he’s sick, or thinks he’s sick; just serve him his favorite cocktail and let him whine. Nevertheless, you have to be the : Womanhood, Motherhood, and the perfect role-model in Wifehood . More Human than Human : And a man didn’t write this piece of history. ---------------------------------------------------------- 163
BUFFALO SOLDIER Put down your guns young boy, whether you bought one - or stole one I don’t care. Guns aren’t your meal - tickets out of strife. Guns aren’t a way of - life young boy. Don’t play with guns - they’re not toys. Lack of education, lack of pride, I see the hate in - your angered burning eyes. Withered soul, civilian - of the state. Prisoner of poverty, drug infested neighborhoods, - the warfare escalates. Jobless, homeless, you’re tired, will you survive? Wealth and power - don’t come easy. Dispel your fears, harness your faith deep inside. Buffalo Soldier, you’ve learned the hard - way all along. Time to learn the right way. Be strong now before - it’s too late. Buffalo Soldier, young and old, you’re tomorrow’s generation. But, you sell your own soul, abuse and kill your own kind - and overpower each other. Buffalo Soldier, 164
people continue to fight - for freedom until they die. Opportunity knocks here and abroad. The others come from, across the borders - across the seas. Fight for your civil rights - through discipline. It’s still a land - of milk and honey. Your color, their color, any color race won’t - set you free. Wisdom, my dear young lad, you’ll survive with wisdom. Strength and dignity - alone won’t compete. Wipe those tears - from your eyes, don’t be sad. Must women tarry on - in a world all their own. My God are our men so - useless to tend to, our simple needs? Put down your guns young boy. You’re our only hope - as God’s lil’ savior you see. You’ll become stronger - men tomorrow. You are mankind. Stand tall and - strong old man. Die with respect on - the burial shroud. Weak minds murder weak bodies. It’s not funny! So burn your sons’ guns. Bury your shame. Buffalo Soldier - that’s your name. There’s a new world, 165
awaiting you to - challenge and endure. It’s your world Buffalo Soldier - Buffalo Soldier, Buffalo Soldier ! LOVEJOY There amongst them some are - my friends, some enemies. But many of them confess in the eyes of God - that they’re true Catholics. They profess in the eyes of the public - that they’re true Americans. Wealth and power control their domain. I live there amongst them, the people in Lovejoy - and peer through my window, at the prejudice and hate, staining their children’s eyes. As the vulgarity solicited, from their mouths threaten - foreign tenants - newcomers to the neighborhood. Catholics, Americans - yet, their doctrines are lame. I question their morale - as people like them; put this country to shame. TWILIGHT ZONE Hello what’s your name? My name is so and so. And so, again I repeat - what’s your name? You havn’t told me your name. What’s the matter - are you afraid? Are there noises - in your head. Can’t you remember your name, 166
or don’t you even have one? Are you sure - you even exist? Are you sure you’re - who you say you are? Can’t remember who - you are either eh! Maybe it’s written down - somewhere in the Twilight Zone. Have you been - acting strange lately? Have people been getting - on your nerves suddenly? Quite frankly, is everything just going - all out of wack? Find yourself running - from your own shadow, within the world?. Are you running - to someplace where - you can regain your sanity?. Are you living in fear, temptation, illusion, anger - and frustration? Are you subdued - by the dumbest, little remarks, from people’s quirks? Are you that smart jerk - that everyone knows can be taken advantage of? Do you ever feel like - you wanna’ die sometimes ‘cause you’re tired of - crying yourself to sleep at night, pretending everything’s - gonna’ work out alright, when there’s no one to - communicate to, and you wanna’ scream ‘cause no one’s - hearing or seeing what’s really 167
eating you up inside? Go on, ‘fess – up! Admit it. It’s staring dead at you. The truth I mean we’re all kooky members of - the Twilight Zone somehow. And you thought - you were just watching an old Rod Serling flick. C’ mon, we’ve all - played a part in his, erie stories. Some people play - so many weird parts, they can’t keep up - with them all. Sometimes, they try - to blame their guilt on their counter parts. Their other twin - floating around out there in that mysterious, dark hemisphere. Don’t worry - I’m still your friend. I won’t let you down. This is between you and me. You cover my goofy gypsy ass, and I’ll cover yours. Did you remember - your name yet? I mean the name - you were born with, not the fictitious street - stage names given to you good or bad, and characterized by others. Are you the butler, maid, chef, chauffeur, thief. How many crimes - did you commit? 168
How many crimes did you - think about committing? Are you the lawyer, prosecutor, judge, devil or angel? Who cares eh! In this Twilight Zone - everybody’s anybody, they wanna’ be. It’s all in their mind. You just have to deal - with the consequences. Rod Serling didn’t have time - to write about the whole world’s crazy thoughts and actions. So we just sit - back and laugh, at all the poor schnooks - that got caught on that famous T.V. program - that still lives and creeps, into our souls at night - when we think no one’s watching us. But oh!, How mysterious, with that erie - dee dee, dee ding dee dee, dee ding music. Are you still with me? Lighten up. When we die, that erie dee, dee, dee ding - music will stop. And we’ll be up there - on another zone. Good or bad - we’ll find out, the music up there will - have a different sound. The characters we portray - will be staged for different reasons. Whatever the price - for now don’t worry, relax, 169
if you’re reading this story; - you can’t be all that bad. Stick around. You probably have time - to read the next sequel, to the Twilight Zone. LUCID DREAMS And we all - go to sleep at night blanketing our dreams - filled with wondrous thoughts, and precious memories. And for the moments - that we are silently asleep, measuring in our minds are sacred words - designing beautiful picturesque landscaping of what our life’s to become - in the future. And just then as we slowly start to awake, heartfelt and true - are the videos replayed, that stimulate us, to succeed in life - whatever, it is we must go through. And with these lucid dreams safely in store - we wake and rise, to the world once more. MARGO’S Dedicated to - Jerry Marchette, and the late Stan Sluberski, 170
As I age - with sage and soon to retreat, I will remember always - my good times spent at Margo’s. A place culminating many faces - some bitter, some sweet. And Jerry - you can ad-lib. (Smile). ASK THE MAID I’ve cleaned many houses before - for a mere pittance to help curb my bills. I’ve seen many rooms elaborate - fit for a king and queen. And many rooms of squalid and decadent conditions - belittling the poorest pauper. This one particular family’s home, was huge, meticulous and beautiful. - Highlighting their living-room, bathroom, kitchen, entertainment room, den, backyard and veranda - all beautiful except the bedroom. Yes, all except the bedroom - which was reminiscent of a pigsty, a dog-house, slop-hole, - an area where they only screw. A room where their kids were conceived, yet, they awake and wonder why - they constantly battle and argue in disbelief. A room where they sleep without - faith and trust in one another. As they face each other in the morning sunlight, without the comfort of love. Their bedroom, master-bedroom, their barn where they lay their heads - to rest and don’t pray together. Suddenly, a continental breakfast is prepared - 171
in the kitchen and served in the family dining room. As they finally speak of divorce - and I witness the tears from their eyes. IMBALANCE Mommy woke up in a bad mood. Daddy woke up in a vile mood - and the kids woke up in a monstrous mood. So they all left the house in a wreck-less mood. Daddy dropped the kids off on the school bus - and their nastiness spilled over on him as he went to work leaving mommy - incredibly miserable and she’s now evil and winds up - going to work and spilling her madness over on me her co-worker. I’m trying to work my job peacefully, and she’s trying to drive me crazy - ‘cause she’s miserable. Go head! make my day! I understand your imbalance. YOU’RE IN DEBT The money you give me only soothes and temporarily heals a financial loss. But, you cannot buy - my love with millions, or send me a rain-check, pay with a bill, take out a loan, or a tab. 172
Love is priceless - there is no cost. You pay with time - devotion and endurance, and right now - you’re in debt. HIS IMAGE I met a lot of people in my life that said they knew God - and I believed them because I saw the truth reflected in their eyes, and felt the life in their spirit. Then I met a lot of people in life that said they knew God also - but, were still filled with racism. And I said, “you know - of an image of God, and memorize Biblical text.” But, that image is - reflected in your eyes yet, - not felt from your spirit and heart. Because, you’re still ignorant. God is not a particular race of anyone - he is a spirit, that dwells amongst - us all. RAINDANCE Goodbye sun, hello cloud. And during the concert - 173
it started to pour down suddenly. Yes, it rained. And no one really cared - that it poured down on us all so heavily. What’s there to fear - a few raindrops? The sun was hidden behind the clouds yet - she was still there, quietly, probably dancing - to her own tune. But I saw the - beauty of it all. The rainbow of nationalities, - a myriad of people dancing happily together. A clear snap-shot, through my eyes of - a wet picture of humility, drenched in peace - dripping down on life’s window pane. THE BAR LIFE Too many lonely nights spent amongst too - many restless, nosy people. And too many unfulfilled dreams lost in the reverie - of one or two drinks, as you watch your life dwindle away like - a dry crumbling leaf. Perhaps, there were one or - two friends who lent an ear, and shouldered your troubles before they themselves - 174
drank their loneliness and feelings of unworthiness into - oblivion before they died. NAMES When people love you you’re given a good name. When people hate you you’re given a bad name. I decline to count and - legitimatize the references of which clan loves - or hates me. However, I’ve been given - three names from birth. My first name, my middle name and last. Right now, I can only remember one name that - stands out in my memory, that name is - Mrs. Wake up, Get up, and Pay the bills. ONLY NINETEEN He made love, like a man - of thirty years! Yet, when we were done, hours later we spoke - of a family and responsibility. But, to my surprise! His replies - were all along just sunflower lies. 175
Oh! how could he so gently disguise - to an older woman so wise, that his tender age was of a man that’s - only nineteen. I LOVE FROM A DISTANCE They don’t visit. They don’t call. Must I look into my crystal ball - to foresee whether they love me at all? For now I love from a distance. MAILBOX NUMBER And I queue into their mailbox numbers occasionally. They change their age, and persona daily. All their creamy lines and disguises - about their devout interest in love especially. Sometimes you can detect over the phone - the sincerity in their voices however, you’ll soon realize the truth and finalize - an appointment to meet and greet them, but be prepared to review their deceitful lies. RUMORS Gossip; offering disparaging words – that slander one another, instead of encouraging words - of grandeur towards each other. A rumor is still a rumor – until proven legitimate evidence. 176
HOW FOOLISH OF YOU How foolish of you to think I continually - allow you to apologize for all your sappy, - phony, little ways that you won’t change - because you think I desperately need you, and that there’s no one else to - coach me through, or that I can’t make it without you. You say you love me, only wish the - best for me, but you’re really - not there for me spiritually, and don’t measure up to things you say - you’ll do for me. Can you now realize you’re careless words - of love are merely lies that rush the rolling - blood through my veins. Have I made a mistake in believing in you? How foolish of you to front a disguise when the pain - I feel deep inside is because of you. But it’s ok. I don’t expect anything from you anymore. You no longer personify 177
the values I adore. You’re not the person you once were. And what a shame, - how foolish of you, I’m no longer inspired by - the beauty of your eternal flame. DECOY If you are smart and you’re pretending to be stupid - though you’re not stupid, then it’s just as - damaging to your credibility leading people to - believe you’re stupid. What are you setting - yourself up for, something stupid? BRIDE MEETS GROOM Here’s to all the bitter divorcees I know who said - the first time they married for love - the second time they’ll marry for money. Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, (ad-lib) 178
OLD ADAGE As the old adage states, “sticks and stones - may break your bones, but, words can never defame”. But, it’s not always the - words that hurt so much, as it is your pride and dignity - that’s bruised and maimed. MOOSE As a youngster my uncle used to - call me moose. That was his affectionate - pet name for me. Not that I ever - resembled a lil’ moose in any way. Nevertheless, it’s a simple - display of affection that made me love my uncle more. And I miss him much. ANSWERING MACHINES Ring, ring, - ring, ring. Who can it be now? Reluctant to answer - the phone, I sit patiently, awaiting each - new mystery, as the messages are played, and all the - lies are submitted. 179