Maya Angelou Interview

P & S

the irony of the day is that it is supposed to rain


and wash away the grass seed planted days before,


but even with the laying down of straw, the seed


was eaten by the birds just minutes before and we


managed to find the right excuse to explain the


pain and suffering we felt from all our wasted labors.


17Mar18

Hesitation

hesitation blinks its tired eyes in my direction,


justice lays on the ground like a trapped rat


being chased by a legal cat on a mission,


we rant and rave at a moment’s notice with


or without justification as if our cause is the


only one in the world worth fighting for when


in real terms, it is just another dying cause that


people gave up on years ago before hesitation.


17Mar18

Contemplation

overcast and cool, the morning starts


one for the books I would have to think,


singing birds and flying owls mark the spot


at which I have found myself in life, as                                      

I contemplate the beginning of it all


as well as the end of what it might have been;


doggedly, we pursue whatever course of action


strikes our fancy hoping it be more productive


than originally thought, but expecting


disappointment just in case we were wrong


as we have been so often before this day.


17Mar18

Sounds of the City

owners bark out at their dogs trotting around corners


looking for a quiet place to silently defecate,


sirens of police are drowned out by the sirens


ambulances heading on more direct routes,


vehicle horns blast out for seemingly no purpose


as pedestrians walk in between parked cars and


engines growl out their impatience,


walking and talking above the crowd is an art,


especially when talking on the phone,


barkers and non-sexual harassers make ever


attempt to sell you a ticket inside,


drunkards piss in the alleys beside the homeless


who dare no snore too loud and hailers’


raise their arms in a Statue of Liberty gesture


hoping to retrieve a cabby to their location,


doors open and close and blasts of heat


warm those who pass through,


jack hammers tear up concrete right beside our feet


as we tip-toe past the congestion, and if,


if were not for the changing street lights, we


would have no quiet here at all.


23nov17

Monument and Cities

down through the city streets I walk


arm-in-arm with my emotional defenses,


waiting to see if the light-of-day


really is as bright as they claim it to be;


figments of my imagination fly by


as the chilly winds of forgetfulness


blow hard down below the buildings


that stand tall on either side of me;


crucial monuments stand in my way


as streets are crossed at each intersection                                

and avenues are over-looked because


they head in the wrong direction;


fleets of observers’ flock to my rescue


as coffee spills out of my cup and I


forget my apologies have been left


in my room along with my wallet.


23nov17

Cracked Glasses

inside the cupboard of the mind

desire for loneliness supersedes

public opinion as instinct rests

in a dark, black alley with the

rest of the rats that freely roam the

city once thoughts are dismissed;

traitors of the right that have gone

to the liberal left cannot be blessed

without seeking redemption

from those who take their place

and must also hide in these

dark alleyways until discovered;

readers review the credentials

of the dying writers and decide

that too much knowledge is

not near enough to escape the

ravages of the mind once it has

been discovered that all the

glasses in the cupboard are cracked.


23nov17

Waiting Alone

except for the light in the makeshift kitchen,

in the dark, here I sit,

waiting for my thoughts to arrive in rapid

succession as they have done before;

but, my request has

been denied by a higher authority

and empty again am I.


23nov17

VALENTINES 2020

We remember the good times…

We remember the bad times…

while memories are held captive on photographs

and the years flow by like a raging river;

The days of our lives obscure the words

that are so easily tossed about like

cats toying endlessly with mice, labeling

conflicts as healthy byproducts of love;

Over the years we have endured and

lured into our minds, abstract symptoms

of what might not have been meant to be

yet somehow persistence survived it all;

There is no mediation assigned here

only that which was our destiny as if

we had no choice in the matter even

though brutal choices had been made;

Perhaps no courage or honor lives

at the foot of our bed, but the blanket

of loyalty covers us in the winter and

cools us in the summer without fail;

We are with fault and limitations

We are careless and reckless with words

We live on the fine edge of maturity

We depend on each other’s silent forgiveness;

Years float by us like last night’s dreams

oftentimes forgotten before remembered

still, in the wake of time’s flowing river

we will always be each other’s Valentine.

alone...
in a vacuum of
self-awareness thoughts,
traveling...
one side to another,
unable to grasp,
drowning...
without contact
without touch
without communion,
seeking...
that which is not
in my realm
of possibilities.
3-16-20