Thursday, March 10, 2011


When I find material too thin (rare), or too busy (normal media day), I often turn to poetry. Just what you'd expect from a Vietnam veteran, Right? Well, loyal pilgrims, I promised surprises. And before Def Jam Poets move me off the planet, I thought I'd treat you to a little quality time:


Black, no cream, no sugar
Night just beginning
Long way to go
To daybreak.

Night creatures awaken
Real or imagined
Common mission
Extract peace of mind.

Keep it simple
Souls of present and past
What are you doing here?
Come to visit?

Agenda decided
Discomfort disclosed
Bitter sweet memories
Enter on cue.

Cinnamon Hazelnut tonight’s flavor
Offered to welcomed & unwelcomed
Untold stories seeking daylight
Their place in history.

Custom blend for the party
Dancers of the night
Lost in the mist
Souls in need of voice.

Voice that cries within
Release me
I am you
Your eyes alone.

Characters come alive
Argue, love, hate
Imitate passion, lack of
In spite of my command.

Vision released, uncontained
Enigma astonishes
Life’s journey claims
Victim and survivor.

Sleep will not win tonight
Victory is in the pen
Ink that dries
In the mind of humanity.

Untold stories rejoice
Night just beginning
Java left to brew
Black, no cream, no sugar.

It’s been said: Multitasking is a woman’s work;
Man lacks the tools.
His cranium is absent the proper compartments.
Who said that?

It’s been said: A woman’s threshold for pain exceeds man’s;
Birthing the undisputed example.
Man’s role limited to procreation and transportation.
Who said that?

Let us not forget: Who stands behind every successful man;
Which says it all, I suspect.
As any self respecting wise man will attest.
A closed mouth serves him best.

Freddie loved all seasons, on the ready to assist neighbors,
Sharing parenthood without retribution.
Community report cards made a reputation,
Not lost on Freddie and family upbringings.
Locked doors in Bed-Sty were the exception;
Shared aspirations filled the streets.

The borough of churches arises every Sunday,
To sooth sinners and the disenfranchised,
Who compose the other family, a gangland sanctuary.
A day of rest for Freddie and friends,
Stompers vs. Corsairs a recurring meet, location discreet,
Displacement activity for king of the street.

Blood flows freely for the unlucky when the glow appears,
Steel under streetlight, the homemade zip-gun;
Casualties are black on black, as the whites run.
To inhabit suburbia before the next wave of immigrants,
Dreamers all from injustice imposed,
Hysteria, case closed.

                     ANGELA’S GIFT

Angela was my first call of the night.
Welcome to WLIW. May I take your pledge?
Her voice soft and wrapped in subtle coarseness
Spoke of mystery and caution.

I want the highest level, tickets and dinner for two,
It’s for my mother, you see.
Mary Ann’s biggest fan.
Said she, surreptitiously.

Mary Ann, the evening attraction,
Icon of kitchen notoriety;
Image of mothers world wide
Who create recipes with pride.

Extraction of ID a challenge,
As voice recedes to a whisper.
Repetition of the perfunctory no easy task;
Bronx address established, lucidity masked.

Playing field altered;
Red flags come into view.
Veteran of inner city, I see Satan’s work:

Drugs that stupefy,
Drugs that remove childhood,
Drugs that take no prisoners.
Drugs that ….

Angela, are you there?
I can barely hear you.

Reluctant to disconnect,
Protocol replaced by urgency.
My felicitous theatrics conceal not panic;
I am undressed by Satan’s scourge.

Sorry, I changed my mind. You are kind.
Mary Ann would be fun; her books Momma read,
Please, tell no one,
Momma is dead.

Angela, are you there?