INDEPENDENCE With my small hands, strong spirit, good heart, and confident strength - in my soul though still, but a youngster - yet, unwilling to accept laziness, I set out for employment. I was offered a job - in a fish market. Scaling, cutting, cleaning, - stinky but, certainly not too laborious for a - fifteen year old. However, my mother sneered, - replied it was undermining my natural talents. My objective was just to - earn a mere pittance for art supplies and - acquire some independence. CHINESE RESTAURANT There is this particular Chinese restaurant in town. The food always smells - so good as one walks by it. You’re mentally stimulated - to dine there and so, one day I did. Meticulous, clean, full - of orient descent. Yet, the music of Haydn filled the atmosphere, and the aroma continued - to intrigue me. The only setting out - of place that beguiled me 30
was the waiter with his - ridiculous antics and hideous remarks. Though he had intellect, he remained an intelligent idiot - the entire evening. With shabby worn uniform and his cocky, dry sense of humor - he annoyed me vaguely. But, the music enhanced my dinner, so I remained calm and amused. Apparent was his worn out clothing, worn out shoes, worn out life. Obviously he wasn’t paid profusely to entertain the customers - as an over zealous fool or court gesture however, the ambiance was still - beautiful, and my appetite was met with content - but, I could not force myself to leave him a tip. LEAH I was too young and never realized what an adopted child goes through in life. All the pain, suffering, hardships, sometimes happiness, - many times strife. I never knew Leah was - adopted until later on in my life. She pretty much had - a decent family most of her youth but, as she blossomed and became a teenager that’s - when the truth of it all surfaced. 31
Her guardian parents were aging, their life cycle was changing. They became more short fused. Leah felt more restricted, misunderstood and used. She wanted to become a writer and write about - hardships of other youths. I wished her well with much success. Finally, she confessed to me - that her birth mom wanted her back after thirteen years. She regressed about the battling - between the two families trying to tare her apart from each other - like a piece of meat in between the teeth of hungry wolves. I knew her well and loved her dear. I wished her well and coached her with much knowledge as I could. I don’t know the outcome of her - life or the fate of her stories. I pray she’s a happy, content and successful woman. BUS RIDE There they were passengers on the bus. The blind and deaf leading the dumb. Both blaming each other - for the hostility on earth. There’s no merit in persecution. We need solutions to our problems - not blameworthy assailants. And they argued relentlessly. Challenging each others consciousness. Stubborn crows were they - like Heckyl and Jeckyl, 32
the Easterner and the American - both proclaiming they were saved, yet, by different Gods. But, they lacked faith in their hearts and neither - understood each others spiritual knowledge respectively. Their unassurance echoed - a familiar lonely sound from their voices. You can’t educate one another with biased opinions. They both believed in Armageddon. Finally I reached my destination stop - and got off the bus. I walked home thinking - our blood is red, Gods’ blood shed for us. Alternative names for him - matters not when you pray. When we despair we seek his guidance. Your lives are cycled, so your children’s children - will retaliate against your sins carried over from - years passed. MOUNTAIN FORTITUDE When inner city children become suppressed by - the inner city blues, take them out of - the city for a day. Let them get away - to the hills, to the mountains. Escape to the country for awhile. It’s good for them to encounter - the beauty of mountain fortitude. To feel the majesty of - 33
God and mother nature. Away from city turbulence, to rejoice in bountiful - country mountain pleasure. To hear the beauty in the silence. A place where they may smell - and breathe in the fresh air. See and touch the morning dew. Listen heavenly to lucid songs of migratory birds - that frequent there, in the hills where - the trees are tall and verdant green. The sky is crystal clear - and electric blue. You can hear yourself echo - and answer back joyfully. Fish in the lower streams, or pick flowers of - many brilliant colors, some are familiar, some will be new. Peace, quiet, free from worry. No wars, no enemies, - just eternal blissful magnitude. Wild flowers, ladybugs, leaping toads, - a child’s huge garden of wonder, filled with special moments they’ll remember. An expression of freedom - like the verses of poetry, these are the beatitudes - of mountain fortitude. A SNAILS’ LIFE Can you imagine a life without a lot of hard labor, without a real nine-to-five? Can you imagine 34
being next to the one you love all day, pleasure without pain - ecstasy, ecstasy all the way? Can you imagine hanging out by the creeks and riverbanks like Narcissus staring at yourself and - beautiful lilies endlessly. Take the snails in my - fish tank for instance. They hangout on the - walls of the tank, gliding upward, downward, cleaning the scum and residue - for awhile then they, eat and mate and make - lots of lil’ snails. And watch out for those - hazy, lazy days of summer, boy! their in maximum overdrive. Thousands of lil’ snails are born - in my tank like crazy. They must be happy, happy, happy - what a life they lead, simple and happy!. Just enough work to get by - and the rest of the day is spent in reverie. So do you believe in reincarnation? I’m starting to think I’d wanna - come back to this goofy world as a beautiful lil’ snail. FULSOME Once when I was single, a beautiful married woman in a tavern told me - “I was too beautiful to 35
be married and get hurt”. - I thought to myself, “how ironic and strange because, I felt the magical mystery of healing all hurt was finding - your special soul-mate and getting married”. - Then later in life - someone else so dear said to me “he believed I’d encounter many lovers, but never marry”. Well, I fooled them all - my marriage was beautiful in many ways they’ll never - know while it lasted. NATURE’S SEASONS Winter, spring, summer or fall, the seasons are beautiful - teach your children to embrace them all. My grandmother always taught - my brother, cousins and I, to appreciate the seasons - for they swiftly go rolling by. FALL - The gorgeous cascading of leaves. The crimson, gold, amber and green. The hue that varnishes all - neighborhoods with splendor. God’s rainbow of reverence - distilled amongst the bad, good, rich and poor. 36
WINTER The wintry snowy-white that christens the sidewalks and - streets day and night. Hidden is the scum of the earth made clean, under the magic of each little crystallized-gem. Each snowflake glistening so bright, as our eyes capture each - fallen wondrous mystery with pride. A watery, blurry delight - falling downward from the sky melting on our noses. Each delicate snowflake - rejuvenates the soil on the ground, and cultivates the planet with purity for me and you - as we listen silently to the little snowflakes’ heavenly sound. We stand in awe of it all, watching the children create a scene gliding down gentle hillsides with their sleds. While the sunlight gleams through - white-robed, snow-capped trees well preened of their berries - from birds heading South - as winter refugees until spring. Yes these special moments and memories lead us to believe, there’s a Godly purpose - for this massive white stuff falling from the celestial sky. Though cumbersome for us to try and shovel, we snuggle-up drinking hot cocoa by the fireside - and steady ourselves while managing to get by another long snowy-winter. 37
SPRING The deep sea of grass that lys waiting, inviting - as the tall blades waver to and fro whispering against the wind; a gentle sound so familiar - to us young and old. And coveting the warmth of youthful innocence - hungry, eager to unveil; virgins are they no longer as their inhibitions naturally unfurl. The deep sea of grass in spring, that soaks in the sun - reflecting a vibrant sheen, a radiant green that mystifies them - as they run further into the core. Holding hands, singing in jubilee - far beyond their dreams. Like the meadow lark it brings pleasure - to the precious moments they share, for they know that forever in love - is a long time away. SUMMER Summer - Makes her grand entry too late, and exits her encore too soon. Love lys bleeding - deep within the hearts of abandoned souls who where love - had smitten them once before last year, and this year again remains barren - with the fearful thought that love will never bloom. And a kiss is still a kiss but we won’t tell - how many starry nights have passed without a lover to hold and kiss in the light of the moon. ‘Cause there’s always next summer - and all’s well that ends well, my friend. Yet, she wears babies-breath in her hair, 38
and he counts forget-me-nots, that linger there amongst - the bushes surrounding virgin grass. But a kiss is still a kiss - and summer comes too late, and love diminishes too quickly for those - less fortunate, desperate and stripped bare. BAPTISMAL Steamy hot and - feverish with anticipation; of the Lord’s saving grace - to forever change your life. The pastor is there, the witnesses are there , you are there obviously, in repentance - that your old life will be set free. Wide open at the mouth - of the river bank you stand; naked in spirit before God. With the sun’s illustrious rays burning downward creating - sweat beads of perspiration; that form in the small of your back. You stand at the mouth of the river bank - deep rooted in the South; in preparation for a baptismal. The pastor immerses you into the water. You’re cleansed with the - Lord’s saving grace. Stung by the holy spirit, you pray as the pastor - calls out your name in forgiveness. You surrender your old life - and become renewed into the world by faith. There by the mouth - of the river bank; so many were submerged - deep into the chill of the water. 39
Their bodies became wet, yet, their souls and spirits - never cleansed from their old lives inherited. Their mouths tell tales of salvation, but forked tongues prove - misrepresentation of the truth. They rejoice in the sunlight - yet, they’re as cunning as wolves in the darkness of the night before - the new dawn arrived. They still remain stained once more. Obviously, they were not truly baptized. STITCHES Offer a good joke for a good laugh - to a good friend; and you’ll probably bust at the seams. As the saying goes - “I laughed so hard, they had me in stitches.” But a good joke, a good laugh - is as serious as a good cry, or a good deep cough - when it’s felt from the gut, and hurts after surgery. Ouch! watch out - You’ll only bust those stitches, and that’s no joke! my friend. JEWISH IMMIGRANT GIRL New to this country – her expectations are high. She muses - she shall be rich. For now she labors - 40
day and night, through job and schooling. With temperance in her voice, She reiterates to the - American girl on the bus, that she is a young, dedicated - Jewish girl, and finds no pleasure in the average adolescent - carousing the bar scene in their precious spare time. She has an image - and needs to prove herself to the world. She sighs … again reiterates - I’m a young Jewish girl, what do you expect? She is short, wore glasses. Her hair pulled back tight, - styled neatly in a bun. With her long skirt draping - almost to the ground, she walked with a limp - and dragged her foot slightly. Her small youthful face - governed by semi-frowns, as she sighs. Jewish immigrant girl - She will grow old before her time. THE MUNCHKINS There were three of them; - short like dwarfs and feisty. The munchkins I called them. - They tried to give me a hard time, especially this particular one, who owned the salon. Oh! what an arrogant red-head she was. Fussing, aggravating, promoting - 41
her bitchy attitude towards me constantly. Ha, ha! but I fixed their ego-tripping, and boomeranged their poisonous arrow - right back at them. I showed them life is tough, but I can be tougher. With their lollypop - shade of red boring hair styles, they went bopping their dizzy heads back into their own territory. And that was final ! THE DREAM OF AUGUST 16TH I dreamt I saw the sun magnified a zillions times over - high above the ground semi-blinding the naked eye. With a touch of blue - still visible in the sky. Behold the fixation of my eyes - on this magnificent sight, as I saw through a wide-open window in a small room - with the door slightly ajar. And frantic people and children - running here, there seeking refuge afar; - anywhere from this powerful light. Could it be the almighty - powerful source of life on earth, had people in a sudden state of fright? I never feared this magnificent sight. As I stood quietly amazed, and bewildered by its majestic glory. The streets were nearly white - from the suns’ brightness. What did it all mean - as the earth stood ablazed, not by fire but by the incredible light rays 42
with a touch of the blue sky - still visible in sight. I didn’t see the people - reach their destination. Suddenly I awoke from my dream, and still await God’s reasoning for - this precious memory of my dream of August 16th God reveals his message and image - through our dreams. HOW MANY MORE WARS BEFORE ARMAGEDDON God created man equal. Man created inferiority, and superiority. Red is the color of our blood. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, - we need oxygen to live. We cry, laugh, love and lust - for the same vitals in life, you, me, one and all. But how many more wars before Armageddon? Skin heads, nazism, - they brainwash tomorrow’s youth, teaching them hate, and prejudice in schools. Kids hating kids, kids killing kids. Searching a perfect race; lil angels of the devil cycling the earth in - a hellish cyberspace. Enforced by religious leaders wanting to be politicians and politicians wanting to - be religious leaders, aiming with power to extinguish - 43
an entire race of people. And upholding their own armies - to control our kids’ minds and civil rights to choose - their lifestyles, and freedom of speech. How many more wars before Armageddon? Swatstikas commemorate their history of hate. Are they born murderers? Is it too late to change - their hearts to love and peace? War begets war. Yet they open fire in public domain. They have lost their minds. Insane, they are the lost wandering souls from this universe’s spiritual redemption. They are the living dead - wanting to swallow up the earth. Shall they succeed? How many more wars before Armageddon? DARK WIDOW There - beyond the window I watch his beautiful face calm, and gently placed - within the fold of the pillow, and fully ablazed by the sunlight. I kiss his eyes that - are solemnly shut tight. I ponder his thoughts as he sleeps, - but silence is all I receive. His dreams are sacred and are all his own. But for the moment he is mine, Safely locked within my arms. Our hearts are beating - our spirits are one. I love and respect him. God forbid he doesn’t awake - 44
and I live on without him forever. Yet, I’ve said my prayers - for the blessed times we’ve shared together. And will try not to cry bitterly, for his soul that was once - joined with my soul, will be no more. But the gracious memories stagger-on in the mind of the dark widow that must also live on. A JOB Be prompt, never tardy. Kiss ass, kiss ass - all the way. Now hold out your hand, here’s that big fat raise you bitched about, - a quarter. What! You expect a promotion, and extra benefits too? Whose kiddin’ who! Some say it’s better than nothin’. Take what little you – get and shut up. A year goes by, then another. No growth, no stimulation, no career, just a job. And in the employees lounge, what; with all the - banal conversation amidst the air! You’d swear everyone was running for gossip - columnist of the year!. And then there’s the others, who profess eloquently to be your friends - until you’re down and out, 45
and short of luck. Until something goes - wrong in your life, that’s when you realize - your loving friends are but mere mannequins - with practiced smiles, and robotic gestures. As they pat you on - the back and say don’t worry! lil’ buddy, call me - when things get back to norm. So you’re left to grieve in solitude. But grieving won’t do much good. And the bossman reiterates, the holiday’s are approaching. Overtime is expected from everyone. No warning, but a few pennies are earned, here and there. Not only is he encroaching on your personal time - but, he actually believes those few pennies will - justify all your expenses. So you should be - jumping with glee. Damn! those few pennies. It’s my aching body - that needs the rest. A holiday should be a holiday spent - with lovers and family. Time off I say!. But others still say - it’s a job. Yes, my friends it’s a job indeed. Less’ you can - mastermind a better plan, it’s a job - take it or leave it. 46
WHY CRY WHEN I’M GONE He loves me - He loves me not, She loves me - She loves me not. - Why is it always a toss-up between the two? If they really love me; why can’t they prove to me their feelings are true. Why cry when I’m gone? We are here on earth - for but a short-while, and peoples’ excuses - are always that they don’t remember to say they love you – because of their busy lifestyle. All my convictions - I uphold to be sincere. I’ve sworn-in my love with gratitude to all those – who’ve reciprocated their time, and love to me whether far or near. Why cry when I’m gone, we’re all here on earth - but a short-time. I am me, I am you - I am a part of it all. None is all yours, none is all mine - I am one for you - to love all unto yourselves … a fair share. Those who cry when I’m gone - we’re mainly selfish to me when I was alive, and full of discord amongst themselves. 47
CONTROL He claims he likes the gentle type that - are ladylike. But, he chose to settle down - with a roguish bitch. Not bad looking, but she’s snobbish. He’s fallen from grace many times - but, is true to his honor and remains committed. He’s a good - provider to her. She’s demanding and aggressive. He’s unhappy, feels rejected. She marches ahead of - him all the time. He constantly trails behind. I never see them side by side. Of all the – women he’s had, he chose to live with a - woman who controls. OLD AGE Like ripened sweet fresh fruit shining - in the sun, fertile with seeds that - can be sowed for future crops, so well shaped and succulent, flesh almost too - good to eat but, 48
too shameful to let - rot as a mere centerpiece for the table. The anticipation alone; stings his tongue, - making his mouth water. This is her beauty, her youth. Suddenly he bites deep, then swallows. Moist are his lips, wet and tamed are his senses. His belly is satisfied, he no longer hungers. He’s fortified with vitamins temporarily. But, she is now a memory in his mind. Chapter closed! A season has passed then he opens his eyes. Reawakens to beautifully, sun dried sage fruit - shining in the sun. Dried are the seeds that cannot fertilize future crops. Yet, so well reshaped in new form and polished - from the natural oils of the skin. Flesh lifeless, a cycle complete. But, the contemplation alone, stings his tongue, - making his mouth water. This is her serenity, though she’s aging. Yet, almost beautifully - tantalizing with deceit. Perhaps, it would be shameful - not to use it for a mere centerpiece for the table. He recaptures the memory of - 49
when she was sweet fresh fruit. His senses die. She’s now dried - and old, but polished. He’s rectified and her - beauty will remain a youthful - picture in his mind forever. MID-LIFE What’s worse … hangin’ out with old idiots, or young jackasses? MARTY She was full of life and love. She was inspiration to all - who knew her. A short lil’ spunky Spanish gal - from the hood of Bedford Stuyvesant, Brooklyn. Both of us worked in a - fast-food-joint trying to survive. She was strong-willed, had dreams and a good head - on her shoulders just like me. We both just needed someone - to believe in us. They nicked-named her Marty. Her birth name was Amarillas; a derivative of amarillo, - the color yellow, and also a flower. Yes, Amarillas - a beautiful name for a female. The sound of Marty can’t compare. Amarillas, I’ll never forget her. 50
SADDLE UP They’ve taken all the fun out of old - Roy Rogers, John Wayne and cowboys and Indians films. You know who they are. They’re in the - business to make money, and morale is the last object - on the list when they’re dreaming up subjects - to make a film succeed. So the lil’ ones, watch too much T.V. by the time they’re - four years old. And they’re inundated - with warrior type movies, where too many people get shot down, dead cold. And there are too - many guns lying around the house - where parents are lacking control. So they learn to - aim and fire a gun, and are dead - by the time they’re twelve years old. MY GRANNY SAID Once as a youngster I presented some of my poems to my granny and she replied, “The world wasn’t ready for them yet”. - And then again at another time when I was older she said, “I was going to be rich”. 51
Well, the world appreciates my poems now however, I don’t know if I’ll ever be rich - yet, she’s not even here to share either experience with me now. BELIEVING Many things in life - end in failure. Some things in life - produce a win-win situation. But, nothing in life - is really easy, except daydreaming. Still, you can excel by believing. SIGNIFICANT OTHER Many years ago there was a man - I loved very much. Every breath I breathed - was virtually inhaled; with him in mind. Every thought I cherished about him I believed had strengthened - my love for him. My heart always swelling - in desperation to please him. He consumed my mind, - my actions, my life. While losing my identity; to my significant other - just to love and be loved. But, love holds no bondage, acquires no slaves. My zombiefied administrations to - continually please someone left me spiritually unfortified and maimed emotionally. You can continue loving - someone deeply but, you needn’t covet them in your sleep. Love is free, - 52
together you’re two entities, that combine one unity. One being cannot succeed - by destroying the other. INSECT BITE I once had a friend who I loved very much. One day she became ill from some type - of insect bite. Her whole world was shattered, tormented - by this infection. The doctors couldn’t cure this unpleasant infiltration. Tranquilizers were prescribed - to calm her down. Others felt she - lacked a social life, needed a vacation out of town. This bug that bit her, sent her parents - and myself into a frenzy. Quite frankly, I - felt my friend was on the verge of - a nervous breakdown, and slowly going crazy. When suddenly, it hit me! My God! she’s lonely. She was suffering - from a severe case of loneliness that was the infectious bite. All she needed was - to date more, be patient, and not worry her - precious life away. Later on she found him - and got married, had two beautiful children. 53
A MAN OF GOD He’s a wise man, well groomed, experienced and kind. He claims to be saved - with a steady relationship with God. He’s married, and financially stable. But one day - the clerk made a mistake at the bank - with a five dollar deduction from his account. Not five hundred - or five thousand, just five dollars. He became so - furious he roared just like Goliath - wanting to immediately exhaust his account with them. Eventually the mistake - was amended. A man of God - displaying such anger over a simple - monetary transaction. How ironic, yes, a man of God - is but still a man. Imperfect. UNLUCKY BLONDE STRIKES - OUT AGAIN Once I remember dating a guy who paid attention to me attentively when I spoke by plugging - his ears up with his walkman, and bouncing his head back and forth - 54
side by side in slow motion to the music, revolving around in his head. Guess he never heard - a goddamn word I ever said. SWEET BIRD O’ YOUTH As I awake - to the sun smiling in on me, glaring through my window piercing my eyes as - its golden rays cleanse my face, and welcome me once again - to this glorious place. I can only count my blessings - and keep the faith. Lord God knows - how long it took for me to make some sense out of my life. Through the ups and downs of it all, with his help - I can still feel special, and realize there’s - a mission for me to accomplish. Someone, someday will appreciate me - and Lord God will be my deliverance. THE STRENGTHS OF A WOMAN (THE WALKER - PART ONE ) My car is history. I couldn’t afford the insurance. So I walk a lot, occasionally bus - to the mall, my job, the theater, clinic, bar, here and there. My legs weary, tired but, strong - without varicose veins. People stare constantly, 55
always scrutinizing and judging me - in blatant ignorance. Trying to label me a s some - strange woman, strange creature. If they only knew how strange they appear to me - they’d move to another planet I’m sure. The fact is - I’m destined to my journey, however, near or far. Foolish, lazy idiots; - what did man do when he couldn’t afford a - horse and buggy, or before there were buses, trains or cars? They walked. So I take a daily stroll. For me it’s exercise - for my limbs, heart, mind and soul. So there you’ve just been educated oh mighty ones! Walking is necessary, vital. Walk, there’s no parking tickets issued. No speeding tickets issued. No D.W.I.s, no carbon dioxide. We see you all over the city - people protest. Again, they label me. Oh! The goofy blonde. The call-girl-street walker? A fanatic? Really! People are - cruel unnecessarily, how pathetic. But, she’s always dressed clean, beautifully, properly, dainty! Silly morons, so, so confused. I’m just lil’ ole’ me strutting gracefully, why be alarmed? 56
People judge each other unmercifully. Quite frankly, I’m amused - by their evil thoughts. Their misleading gestures, and catching their wicked glimpses - from the corner of their mistrusting eyes. Like spies, they try to read - through me sternly. Try to pierce through my body - with their deceitful energy. Forcing their hate upon me like rape. I pity them and so - I walk onward alone. Straight forward in peace towards my destiny. My head held high in - respect for myself. My faith to guide me essentially. My love for my life - to dispel any fear of insecurity. Rain or sunshine - I pursue the better half of the day - knowing my future is, just hours away makes - me happy inside. So I walk on earnestly. Soon I’ll have a car again, and drive all the way - to the stars until then, it’s a pleasure I reminisce. So I’ll walk but - not for one moment do I miss the beauty - of the scenery. I’m enduring the journey. Those are the strengths - of a woman. 57
SUPERSTAR Like the rise and fall of the tides on the ocean, day after day spawned are - your highs and lows. Feelings of bliss and content, mixed with confusion and lament. In amusement, in suspense - you sit, ponder your dreams. They beckon you to - try harder to excel. Fortune, fame are tapered within the next silver lining - prone to burst at the seams of that now apparent ominous cloud. Will you make it to the top? Will you make it then flop? It will be sweet music to - your ears upon that lucky day. Your name on the billboard, a myriad of fans. Fame, fortune will it last forever? Superstar will there be - regrets thereafter? Some say you’re here today - and gone tomorrow. Talent is the test. It’s hit or miss. The fans, the foes, today triumph, tomorrow strife. Amidst the rise and fall - of the tides at twilight, ever present are the daily - highs and lows in everyone’s life. You’re a superstar everyday, by any name when - you believe in yourself. Cultivate your dreams, 58
whatever it’s worth. You’ll smile, cry, it’s pride. Just don’t be fooled. Don’t take anything for granted. Inhale, exhale, listen - the last tide is rolling in, there’s a quiet whisper on the wind it says, “take a chance”. GINGER BRANDY Can she ever be happy again? She’s had her share of hardships. Yet, she’s labored to make - her children happy, content. But, she’s unsatisfied, ungratified - not fully appreciated by others. Given a sunny day - she laughs, rejoices. Under a full moon - she laments, hears voices - of regret. She sips and drinks - ginger brandy, into the deep dark - hours of the night. It’s her flight of escapism - from reality. She’s contemptuous of mankind - and full of envy. Her living in denial - won’t dispel the fears or pain corrupting her heart. Torn apart she’s addicted - but, won’t admit it. She’s filled with misery - lacks control of her sanity. Anger, hostility are her ways - of showing the dismay when her plans collapse, 59
and finally decay. With each sip of ginger brandy - she transforms the two faces of Eve. She wants to love but - her heart’s a sieve. I do believe there are - two sides to us all. THINGS REMEMBERED I remember grandpa making kites - the old fashion way with worn sheets, and bamboo sticks. I remember him digging - a pit in the backyard, for an old fashioned barbeque - and playing marbles with us. And playing darts, making go-carts - from milk cartons and baby carriage wheels. I remember playing cards with grandpa at the - family card table, and playing relentlessly - the twenty-two key organ he bought. I remember singing - “Moon River” by Andy Williams, and entertaining the family. My brother and I sometimes - pretended to be bartenders, and serve the family cocktails. I remember going for walks in the snow at Christmas Time, and wonder amazingly at - all the beautiful lights that illuminated 60
each house continually throughout the new year. I can still remember good things. And to switch places with - the kids of today, I wouldn’t dare. Unfortunately, so many of their lives are bleak. It’s hard realizing how - tough it is to be a kid today. THE BABYSITTER I used to clean - the apartment for him. I tried to befriend him. Young or old - there’s no difference when you’re lonely. He worked hard all his life, - this he told me. A former navy member; he’s earned a decent - livelihood and pension. He’s now free - from toil and labor. But, he’s a living extension - in disillusionment of what retirement should really mean. He pays for two marriages, a couple of kids - and a couple of grandkids. He’s somewhere in his late seventies. He’s healthy but, extremely lonely. He’s not a very cultured man, sort of narrow-minded - in his own way perhaps. That’s why he doesn’t attract - neighbors, friends, girlfriends, for comfort and company - 61
til’ this very day. Give love and you’ll earn love. But, his eyes are blind, and he’s running out of time. All his money has left him without - a future, a destiny, a life of his own. He has no integrity, no dreams - so he’s perpetually dying, miserably and alone. He wakes daily just to - babysit the grandkids, and buy them their hearts desire. As he pays tribute to the taverns - where he drinks constantly, until he’s tired, hungry and - then stumbles on home. He’s bored and alone. His daily chores are set before him. He eats, sleeps, dresses, drinks and babysits. Once in awhile he visits - a family member to dine and wine with, or attends an outside function. But, he’s not active in the community, not to mention active with - exercise, church or anything. When he’s not called upon - for money or a deed - he eats, sleeps, dresses, drinks and babysits. This is his lifestyle - sadly in disbelief. One day the babysitter became ill and passed away. I hope to God - he will be remembered as a loving dedicated person - and not just a babysitter, who was taken advantage of. 62
RING – RING - A – LING Ring – ring – a – ling, Ring – ring – a – ling! Who could it be - On my answering machine? Sorry! but I’m not home - Sorry! that you phoned. Leave message at the tone - Ring – ring –a – ling, and I’ll return something. SURGERY There you are laying - on the hospital bed; in the waiting room, strapped in. Being attentively addressed - and coached by your doctor, and his assistants - as they prep you on; the technicalities of your surgery, statistics and effects thereafter. You stare deep into their eyes - and study their facial countenances, and deem the aura of - their presence to be positive. Suddenly, the chemistry is right. It’s one last glimpse at your - doctor before surgery. As you clutch his hand - tight in silent prayer. Immediately, you’re rolled - into the surgery room. The anesthesia quickens - through your bloodstream. Your eyes release little puddles of tears - as everything is fully blurry. Your mind is somewhat still skeptical - 63
of a safe return to this planet. Voices are heard sporadically. The nursing staff offers - final assurance and comfort. It’s too late to withdraw - from the ordeal. Your lil’ eyes are sealed shut, and you’re now technically in - the hands of your doctor and God; for a safe return. RAGS TO RICHES If I waited for all my friends in life to pay me simply - to tell them the truth perpetually, I’d be flat-broke as a pauper. Yet, if they all paid me - to lie to them constantly, I’d be a multimillionaire. SHE WANTS TO HEAR VIOLINS She’s been down and lonely all her life. But, she doesn’t want to breakdown - or hear the melody of loneliness tonight. She wants to escape - through a new door, like a lil’ bird. Feel free to explore - new horizons, new dimensions undiscovered. Soaring higher, and higher. Her tranquility mustn’t expire now - ‘cause she’s at her peak. Her mind and soul - 64
are at peace. She wants to hear violins - fill the atmosphere, ‘cause she’s aware - that in a soft whisper on the breeze - she’ll hear him calling her. She’ll hear his calling of love. The music astounds her. The sweet music - of success, love and life surrounds her. She wants to hear violins - playing madly to caress her gypsy spirit - as she releases the sadness buried within. She wants to hear violins - and prepare herself to dance before - the man she loves. She wants to be - wined and dined. And wear something sheer, with flowers in her hair. Her life is no longer a fallacy. She wants to reminisce - about the sixties, and frequent small - speakeasy cafes, where everyone’s carefree - like back in Greenwich Village. She wants to hear - men recite their poetry, and see her beauty - through their eyes. She wants to hear violins - the music she knows can disguise all the madness - in peoples lives - 65
that they deny. She’s been down and lonely all her life. But, she doesn’t - want to breakdown or hear the melody - of loneliness tonight. She wants to hear violins - playing for her, “La Seniorita Amor - Especialamente Para Ti” is what the matador - would say if he and she were in Spain. But, she speaks - not in vanity . She’s merely ecstatic and - free from the calamity that mangled her soul. So let the music play on. She wants to dance - and sing a song. She wants to hear violins - fill the atmosphere. ‘Cause she’s aware – that in a soft whisper on the breeze - she’ll hear him calling her. She’ll hear his calling of love. SHOPPING I’m in the supermarket at the mall. It’s shop, shop until you drop. I’ve found everything - to my heart’s content. I’m in the checkout line. There’s one goof-ball - that’s holding up the line. 66
She has fifty-thousand items and still forgot something. She ventures to go on a search. Just then, immediately - my intentions fall to the floor. It’s err’ err’ cuse me, ‘cuse me - “Excuse me, let me the hek’ out of here!. A -TRAIN It’s up at six, and out by eight. Make the A-train - arrive to work at nine, better not be late. At the station you wait patiently, amongst a myriad of people - packed tightly together like zombies standing at the - tip of the platform, dressed in their best nine-to-five attire; anticipating the train until it arrives. And when it does - It’s madness and mayhem for your life. As the train pulls in - and the doors swiftly open. The discharging passengers - fight to get off. The boarding passengers - fight to get on. Neck and neck, eye to eye - they’ve got to reach their nine-to-five. It’s a tug-of-war, but you board the train. Suddenly, your over-sprayed - hair style is mashed flat. You lose a shoe, run your pantyhose, lose a purse, a hat. Lose your morning paper, your breakfast bagel - 67
and perhaps gain a bloody nose. It’s madness and mayhem, and a tug-of-war - to reach that nine-to-five; hopefully safe and sound once more. The morning frenzy of - New York’s rush hour as you board Brooklyn’s A-train - to arrive to work in Manhattan. Yes, you’re on the train, the eyes of others stare at you - like contaminated exposure. You can’t get a seat, but you breathe deep and - regain your composure. You now appear like a squashed sardine - and worry about pick-pocket thieves, and morning drunkards’ stale breath - from the night before. Another day-in-the-life - to and fro that nine-to-five; on New York City’s famous A-train. EXIST IN PEACE When people don’t understand you; they say you’re weird, different. I am preaching my point of view, and they are preaching theirs. No one is listening simply. The message is lost. How can they understand me? No man or woman is an island. There needn’t be so much dominance. We need each other’s patience, tolerance - to exist in peace. I can understand this, can you? 68
SHE IS GONE She was so powerful with her ways, and manipulating many say. But she transformed - before their very eyes her own image of a martyr. They either loved - or despised her. She was kind and loving often time, but also offensive and - jealous too many times. Her message of peace, love, wisdom and spiritualism, will continue to excel - in the minds and hearts, of acquaintances she knew. But of all those special moments flamboyant - and shared with others, rekindled in their minds - are special memories of her cherished in a time capsule. Yet, my love for her was so divine, sage. Yet, all I have stored in my memories are empty - moments, days filled with grieving, longing. Small empty hands that, were ready to hold - her with gratitude. An empty heart that’s filled with void; lacking the love - she never reciprocated to me, through the years as we both aged. But she is gone and can – 69
no longer bridge the gaps, of lost times between us - when I needed her most. This bestowed much solitude upon me, what a pity. Such a wise woman who, couldn’t love me without - control and jealousy. EINS ZWEI G’SUFFA ! Eins zwei g’suffa! one, two, three, drink!. Loose yourself be merry. Forget your bills, don’t think about tomorrow’s misery. Why worry it doesn’t - help us anyway. The name of the bar doesn’t matter it’s - the one where people sell everything from food stamps to the shirt off their back. It’s the one where - credit, rain checks, loans, tabs and Canadian money - are all welcomed at par. Whether you’ve traveled near or far, whoever you are - drink and be happy, be cheery. See the goofball sitting - next to you on the bar stool, pretending to be aloof, well after a couple; here and there he’ll wink - his eye at you, that’s proof you’re still very pretty. It’s the bar where everybody can be anybody, even if they’re pretending - because they boast the most, and like to toast to - 70
good times, and bad times. And the bartender - your ex-boyfriend is your evening host. Eins zwei g’suffa!. It could be smoky, dirty, less populated. But who gives a damn - it’s where you feel elated because you’re - not drinking alone. Tomorrow brings another day. Dispel your fears. Shed your tears with - everyone, get friendly. You’re welcomed and known - by your name even if the people there - sometime seem insane. Eins zwei g’suffa!. Forget yesterday’s troubles, count the bubbles in your beer at the bar where every day’s - New Year’s Day!. EIGHTEEN I wasn’t financially secure, but I knew I’d succeed for sure - because I’m a survivor. So at eighteen I ventured off from home. I wasn’t married, had no children. But, I was married to my soul, spirit, and my love for life. I gave birth to my freedom. Freedom from peer pressure, and family congestion. Freedom from society’s - rules and regulations. Freedom from fair-weather friends - and superficial phonies. Freedom to be me – 71
undaunted by chivalry, or rivalry of adversaries. Yes, on the long bus ride - while touring the beautiful scenery and country-sides, with my little suitcase in hand, I sat comfortable peering through the windows taking one - last look at my former neighborhood’s boredom, and continuity. I ended up exploring new - horizons and finding myself, finding new friends and - respecting new peers because, they didn’t control, or pressure me. I’m forty-two and somewhat - financially secure however, my life’s one long bus ride full - of adventure, and new horizons. If I could change one major event or episode in my - life that tormented me the most, I would have to gather - up all those lonely days, filled with anxiety and fear - though I smiled an angel’s peaceful smile. And I would then refill them - with God’s inner peace and donate those new found moments to - others in despair but, tell them have no fear because they’re - never really totally alone, with God’s love inside them. 72
PERFUME A splash here, a splash there. A squirt here, a squirt there. It exhilarates me, exonerates me, captivates, motivates me. I feel like a goddess - floating in the universe. I feel sexy, sensual. Perfume - I smell every flower God created. I feel cozy, dainty and unforgettable. I feel loveable, desirable. I rap myself selfishly - in a blanket of my own spirituality. I feel free like - a mermaid in the sea, swimming endlessly - through the coral reefs. Teasing the sharks, barracudas, as they chase me. And cleverly I put myself at their risk. I feel like - an immortal banshee wanting to dance frantically - and run straight into his arms. Held captive in his arms, breathless, enchanting - hungry for his touch, panting for his caress - hissing for his kiss. With perfume - 73
I want to allure him, seduce him. A squirt here, there, everywhere. I spray it on, perfume. Whish!, a delightful mist pervades, filling the atmosphere - with my emotions of love, that cascade downwards - towards the floor, stirring up a heated fire - burning inside me, drowning me in a pool of bliss. I spray again - whish!, a delightful mist that won’t fade. Perfume, perfume! Oh the wizardry - of naughty men that dream their days - away inventing perfume, and fantasizing about luscious - women in every room in the universe wearing - silk, satin and linen, saturated with perfume. As they dance like fairies in the night - seduced, enticed, lost in the scent of beauty. Charmed, caressed, losing themselves in - wild untamed spirit. Splish, splash! - The glistening fingers creep all over my body each time I spray - the scent that enchants my mind, frees my soul, fills my heart with music. A song that is remembered - 74
on my tongue. I sing in reverie. I hear violins; - a mood that carries me to heaven - to greet the stars. To see my beauty - in the brightness of the moon. I’m in love forever - with the one perfection of man, perfume. RENDU HOUSE Rendu House - A place of refuge, room and board. A hostel accommodating - women from all walks of life, every religion and creed. For me it was a temporary - layover until I became stabilized and situated - before I became married in the vast, expensive - city of downtown Toronto. Rendu House - It was a learning experience indeed. It housed women who were at - crossroads in their lives, but who wanted to start anew. It housed women who were angry, full of grief, misery, loneliness, confusion, and battered, - illiterate, inexperienced women. As well as women who were - 75
adventurous and needed guidance. Rendu House - Open twenty-four-seven, and instilled with mandates. Like any community service center - there are rules to abide by. And if broken, there are consequences. Named after a French missionary, I found sisterhood, friendship, family counseling, strength and peace - at Rendu House. If you’re stranded, lost or jobless, and seeking help for yourself, and don’t mind lending a hand - to help someone else, the door will be open to you at Rendu House always. It is a place of love, and equality. Yet, so many women in downtown, Toronto torn and abused - choose to walk the streets. LIL’ BIRD I was so young, foolish, naïve; when love flew into my life. So I let him fly and get away. And he’s gone from my life. My lil’ bird flew away! Perhaps, he was meant for me. He was so strong, gentle, loving, caring, understanding, trusting, Yet his - presence was as light as a bird’s feather. And I looked into those dark brown eyes, I knew he was capable of making me happy. Taller than me, a member of the Navy. But, I was too blind to see - his virtue, his radiant beauty. I was so inexperienced. What else can I say – 76
I simply chased him away. I was too cold-hearted, to hear his powerful soft voice - whispering words of love, affection and security. I was so childish, silly. What did I really know - about love and life. But, who was I kidding! Why was I so brave hearted? I painfully refused him - while admitting I was lonely. So stubborn, I painted my own - picture of what a special love should be. So certain of my destiny - and confident of who I was, what I wanted and expected in my life I didn’t consider - for a moment that he could be a gift from God - with special ways. So I didn’t take time to - include him in my life. Deep inside I’m sure I - wanted and needed him, but held my head high with - too much pride. So I couldn’t find the words to tell him, and just constantly - teased him with lies. He loved me in the purest, greatest way I’ve ever known. A sincere way I’m not sure - I’ll ever know again. His hope fading, his love wilting - like a dying rose. I close my eyes in memory, dreaming of a love like his. He’s flightless, featherless, useless. Gone from my life - my sin, I didn’t appreciate him. 77
SELFISHNESS Their mom; she was more attentive - to her men than her own children. And the oldest daughter’s - careless, frivolous behavior, was no example or shining armor - for the younger siblings. So vainly cruel, thoughtless - and selfish were they. But, you can dump food on - the table for hungry children, and toss toys in their - play-pen for amusement and retreat. Clothe them, subject them to - their friends, neighbors as they find interest in the - streets for pleasure, when truthfully, you’re only - isolating yourself from them. Rejecting them and consequently - depriving them of your love daily. This one family guilty - of these characteristics stole the innocence and beauty of - their son’s youth when he had to assume the position of an adult, and rescue his younger sister’s - life through a house fire. Their mom’s selfish lifestyle, was to blame for his permanent - burnt disfigured face. As an adult I pray a woman - still sees his beauty. 78
SCAR TISSUE A nightmare - in broad daylight. And there it stood, the beast on four legs, with jaws of a lion. The terror before my - beautiful but horrified eyes. And as my eyes met - its eyes of evil, that’s when the - harrowing nightmare began. As the inertia and force - spirited this beast to motion towards me, galloping until the - horrific deadly attack. I felt its teeth - pierce my precious body. Alone, isolated - I lay there helpless, in fear of my death. I called out to - the heavens above, and with one gasp of air, suddenly beast and master - were withdrawing away from me. Red liquid smearing my skin - is what I could see. Luckily I lived to tell - a nightmare I’ll never forget. Because, I have the - scar tissue to remind me. 79