​Ahmad Al-Khatat. He was born in Baghdad on May 8th (1989). From Iraq, he came to Canada at the age of 10, the same age when he wrote my very first poem back in the year 2000. He also Ahmad has been published in several press publications and his insightful. And he currently studies Political Sciences, and move on to study Journalism at the Concordia University in Montreal.

​Kabedoopong Piddo Ddibe'st is an English & Literature Teacher, aged 24, an Acholi by tribe from Kitgum District, from a dirt poor family background. Uganda is the East African nation commonly known as "The Pearl of Africa"; once ruled by the Dictator Idi Amin Dada(1971-9), and then Y.K Museveni(1986-present), and also invaded by Joseph Kony{LRA}(1986-2006).

                                        The Shepherd
 
​
The monster is our shepherd;
We will never want,
He maketh us lie down in dog' s nose cold refugee camps,
He leadeth us beside the still Victoria waters,
He restoreth our lost pregnant tummies' glories:
He leadeth us in the path of wickedness for his name' s sake,
Yea, though we walk through the dale of the shadow of death,
We shall fear no fed-up public clubs:
For he is with us;
His metallic rods and dogs they shield us up,
He distributest public funds on our tables before the starving servants:
He anointest our fat heads with running public tears;
Our empty cups run over with the poor' s cow-milks,
Surely, wealth and fame shall follow us:
And we shall dwell in the subsidized tents of the monster till kingdom come.
 

​Renee Drummond-Brown is an accomplished poetess with experience in creative writing. She is a (Summa Cum Laude) graduate of Geneva College of Western Pennsylvania and The Center for Urban Biblical Ministry (CUBM). Renee’ is still in pursuit of excellence towards her mark for higher education. She is working on her fourth book and has numerous works published globally which can be seen in cubm.org/news, KWEE Magazine (Liberian L. Review), Leaves of Ink Magazine, New Pittsburgh Courier, Raven Cage Poetry and Prose Ezine Magazine, Realistic Poetry International, Scarlet Leaf Publishing House, SickLit Magazine, The Metro Gazette Publishing Company, Inc., Tuck, and Whispers Magazine just to name a few. Civil Rights Activist, Ms. Rutha Mae Harris, Original Freedom Singer of the Civil Rights Movement, was responsible for having Drummond-Brown’s very first poem published in the Metro Gazette Publishing Company, Inc., in Albany, GA. Renee’ also has poetry published in several anthologies and honorable mentions to her credit in various writing outlets. The Multicultural Student Services Office of Geneva College presented her with 2nd prize in the Undergraduate Essay Contest. Renee’ also won and/or placed in several poetry contests globally. She was Poet of the Month Winner in the prestigious Potpourri Poets/Artists Writing Community and in the running for Poet of the Year. She has even graced the cover of KWEE Magazine in the month of May, 2016. Her love for creative writing is undoubtedly displayed through her very unique style and her work solidifies her as a force to be reckoned with in the literary world of poetry. Renee’ is inspired by non-other than Dr. Maya Angelou, because of her, Renee’ posits “Still I write, I write, and I’ll write!”

Crayola
 
 
His wife’s
BLACK
as ‘tonight’.
He’s
WHITER
than snow.
They’re
HATED
out!
This ‘fo’ ‘sho’;
we do know.
No doubt!!!
 
Society
don’t like this game
but
two can play it
ANYWAY
just the same.
Your move~~~
 
Do not pass go,
do not collect $200.
This again;
we do know.
For this crime,
off to jail
‘ONE’
use to go?
Wonder who??
This;
we do know???
 
But when
he loves
‘Tonight’
from the top
of her head
to the souls
O’
her feet~~~
The colour
they worry ‘bout’
is none other
than
THAT
mean green.
NOT
black or white!
 
Her family hates
the Caucasian in him;
his family hates
her blackness within
but
interracial
relationships
exemplifies
the freedom
to love
whomever
 one
desires~~~
So
don’t get boxed in
 
Open
your mind,
Crayola’s come
in all sorts
of different kinds.
Whether your black
as tonight
or
white
as snow~~~
This
for certain;
we do know.
 
 
Dedicated to: A Black tie ‘AFFAIR’.
A B.A.D. poem

​I Love Lucy
 
 
 
Brown dreams
lost
‘inna’
black sea.
Slaves
riding them waves,
passing by
this
so, called,
American dream.
 
 
Identity cries,
theft lies
beneath
the oldest bones
found.
 
 
Who are they?
Archaeologist 
want to know?
Her.
But; do they though?
Really?
 
 
Scripture foretold,
tale; tale signs
of her
long, long ago;
since
the beginning,
O’
time.
 
 
November 24,
1974,
Lucy,
was re-born
again
an’
again
an’
again.
 
 
3.2 million years,
of
innocent blood
sweat,
‘an’
enslaved
tears.
Tarry til’
I come;
He said.
 
 
But how?
‘Sum’ 400 years later,
the oldest fossil’s
children’s
children,
are still
‘beggin’ bread!
Tarry til’
I come;
He said.
 
 
Lucy your
lineage
camouflage
artifacts.
O’
‘dem’
hidden treasures
of Ethiopia’s
pleasure
beyond
her majesty’s
mystery,
of man
daring to dream
Lucy’s
vivid dreams,
beyond her measure.
No scheme;
THIS IS NO SCHEME ATTACHED!
 
 
FREEDOM
She ‘sangs’!
O’
FREEDOM!
LET IT RING!
LET IT ‘RANG’
I love Lucy.
Lucy I’m home.
Although,
freedom for ‘our’ children
has come
an’
be gone.
 
Lucy’s in Africa
with diamonds an’ pearls
oh’ my!
Dinknesh;
she’s amazing,
she’s marvelous
she’s free.
Everyone’s roots
date back
to ‘ONLY HER’
genealogy;
from sea
to
shining seas!
I love Lucy’s legacy.
Mother we’re home.
But
simply not free.
 
 
 
A B.A.D. poem
 
 
Dedicated to: Arrest #AL 288-1 (Lucy I’m home).

Hard Knocks!
 
He beat me
‘cause’
he loves’ me;
he say’s
“you’re my only one”
therefore,
it’s my fault
he hits me
‘fore’
the setting
of
every sun.
 
As sure as
I’m in heaven;
Father,
Can You try to understand;
his last hit
took my breath
away
an’
I’m ‘beggin’ forgiveness
‘cause’
I loves’ this man.
 
My child,
BEFORE
they laid you
to rest,
adding
insult to injury
at its best;
HE
ALREADY HAD
A
BRAND
NEW
PUNCHING
BAG,
an’
she’s
a real diehard,
soon to meet
the
VERY
same
fate
that you had.
 
Dedicated to: Domestic Violence Awareness!
A B.A.D. poem

​White Girl
 
White girl,
white girl,
what do you see,
what do you see;
when ‘lookin’ at me?
I see favor,
I see grace,
I see humility
I see ‘BLACKNESS’
an’ dignity
wanting
her children free.
 
Black girl,
black girl,
what do you see,
what do you see;
when ‘lookin’ at me?
I ‘saw’ a white girl
who stepped up
during
The Civil Rights Movement
‘PLEA’,
‘TOOK A BULLET’
an’
made the ‘WHOLE’ world
take notice of my children
and me.
Thank you
VIOLA GREGG LIUZZO
for allowing me
to pen y’OUR’ history.
 
Although,
my slain sister,
we’re still far
from being free!
 
Dedicated to: The family of Viola Gregg Liuzzo.
This martyrs ‘GONE’ but ‘NEVER’ is our ‘SHERO’ forgotten!
A B.A.D. poem

‘Rizen’ an’ ‘Fallin’
 
 
Alicia Keys
nobodies ‘fallin’ like me!
 
Been
‘fallin’ an’ ‘rizen’
All ‘deeze’ years;
don’t know night from day
been ‘cryin’
from
‘dem’ ‘dawgz’~~~
‘sum’ real tears
‘Youz’ ‘knows’
‘who’s’ ‘youz’ are???
Trouble in my way
‘gotta’ ‘SWANG’ sometimes!!!
 
‘Nevatheless’
‘Iz’ wear
Poet Dunbar’s mask
‘dat’
grins an’ lies
‘wit’
UV ultra-protection
‘dat’ disguise
My WISE eyes
 
Who’d she coo?
Not you!
‘Twaz’ me
‘fallin’
an’
‘rizen’.
So
let
me
be.
 
Dedicated to: I keep on ‘fallin’ and can’t get up!
A B.A.D. Poem

​America!
 
America;
America,
God shed His plagues
on thee,
and
crowned thy hood
with WOES
as He should,
for disobeying
His commands
from sea
to shining seas.
 
His commands
are 
misunderstood.
Therefore,
as
Scripture vents~~~
reprimands
are
visibly
cognizant
 
Prayer removed
from schools~~~
THANKS TO YOU
now
our children
are
sophisticated iPhone
fools!
‘Walkin’ ‘round’
‘bustin’ a sag,
while mommy’s half dressed,
daddy lags
last;
bringing up the rear
without child support
in sight
and ‘nada’ a care
or
offering reasons why???
 
America;
America,
God shed His plagues
on thee,
and
crowned thy hood
with WOES
as He should,
for disobeying
His commands
from sea
to shining seas.
 
Dedicated to: What happen to the beautiful spacious skies for amber waves of grain?

​The NO Sense
 
 
I see
dumb people
and
they don’t know
they’re dumb.
Pants
‘sagin’ down;
‘slangin’
‘dat’
dope,
‘takin’
their own
 communities
for
broke!
 

 
I see
dumb people
and
they don’t know
they’re dumb.
‘Walkin’
round
like
‘ev’ry’body else
‘CEPT’
jobless
‘havin’
big fun.
Stupid ‘iz’ ‘az’ stupid ‘doez’
too dumb
to learn
how to spell;
let alone,
want
a job;
on their way
straight to hell.
 
 
  
 
I see
dumb people
and
they don’t know
they’re dumb.
‘Makin’
‘kidz’
‘wit’
‘ev’ry’
Tom, Dick,
and
Harry’s son,
sayin
“I do”
an’
he’s already married too;
let me guess?
Hmm
NOT TO YOU.
 
 

I see
dumb people
and
they don’t know
they’re dumb.
60 years
old
still
‘livin’
at home
with mom,
no job
no future
an’
no plans
to EVER go.
 I see
dumb people,
too stupid
to want
to grow.
 
 
 
I see
dumb people
and
they don’t know
they’re dumb.
They walk amongst
us
everyday
Is it you?
Hmm;
just sayin,
just sayin.
NEWS FLASH!!!
The only dumb question
‘IZ’
THE ONE THAT THEY ASK!!!
 
 
 
Dedicated to: How often do you SEE them? ALL THE TIME.

​Boy.
 
Oxygen
cut off
as he ‘swangs’
10 yrs. ol’
but
considered
a man.
Eyes bulging
from his head
sweat pouring
from his glands.
Breath slipping fast.
Numbness
in both hands;
Mob ‘yellin’
“Swing low
sweet chariot
no-ones
‘fennin’
to carry you home”.
 
 
 
Boy’s
minds’
the last to leave
as he
FORCED
to
swing
and become
a man
from
a
 poplar tree.
 
 
 
IN LIGHT OF BLACK HISTORY MONTH 2017; LEST WE FORGET.
Dedicated to: Mr.

​Go To Hell!
 
 
Restore
that blind mans’
sight.
Give
that murderer
a second chance
at life.
 
 
 
Take away
those drugs.
Mature
that hooligan thug.
Feed
that crack baby.
Addiction
to bondage
minus
the subjugation
of slavery.
 
 
 
 
Black lives matter?
Yeah right!
If not here;
then where?
Definitely,
 in the
hereafter.
 
 
 
Bang; bang
shoot ‘em’ dead
an’ let
that piece of steel
be still;
and/or
“Go to Hell”
die ‘tryin’
if
you will.
 
 
Dedicated to: Dead is as dead does (‘piece’ be ‘steel’).
 

​Kim
 
I saw this photo of you
today
and flashed back
some 30 years,
with a heavy heart
I asked the Father,
Where do I start?
What shall I do?
He replied
Go to Habakkuk 2 verse 2,
write your visions of her
make it plain
others will read it
and
just like Kim,
just maybe
they’ll too come to know Him
by name
 
 
 
Only then
this vision came clear
write a poetic account
that mounts
of her quiet nature,
beautiful smile
O’ to have
that awesome giggle
return to us
if only
for a lil’ while.
 
 
But somehow,
I know Kim’s alright
‘RESTING’
In His bosom you see,
with her big wide smile
lighting that path
for us…
in those pearly skies
to be received 
one by one
when our mission test
here are done.
 
 
 
I even thought of her beautiful child,
‘an’ grandson,
named like her,
which would make her so very proud
And I know,
 that I know,
that I know,
because of her genes
they too
are ‘gonna’ be alright
 
 
 
Because of Kim
and how she lived
I no longer question Him.
I know to cry at births
rejoice
at our loved ones’ goings
which gives us hope…
In the
Father
His
Son
and
Holy Spirit.
 

​Two Special Grand-kids
 
 
Kia,
I still remember
the day
you named her
“Barb Dawg”
for none other
than
‘barkin’ out
‘dem’ orders
to ‘ev’rybody’,
anybody,
‘an’
equal opportunists;
all for one
and
one for all.
No-one gets exempt
from grans’
SHOUTING
CALLS
Woof, woof
woof~~~
 
Yeah
especially,
to
‘dem’ grans
merely
fusing
for a just ‘cause’.
‘Cause’ she taught
Kia
and
‘HER’
Lil’ Wayne
Love,
R.E.S.P.E.C.T
but
most importantly
humility,
courage
honor
and justice
for all.
That is fact;
hmm
‘sustah’
Aretha Franklin
ain’t even
got ‘nothin’
 on this
nor that!
 
 
She taught you both
how to
stand
stay
believe in self,
try very hard,
and
to the God of
Abraham,
Isaac and Jacob
PRAY!!!
 
On bended knees
she taught you
‘wit’
an iron fist,
so the world
couldn’t get
hold
of your innocent
heart felt bliss;
thus
knocking you out
1st round
hit or miss.
 
No,
She taught you both
how to PRAY up,
look to the hills
ONLY
from which
‘HIS’
HELP COMES!!!
RUN
FROM TROUBLE
for-ever
and a day.
For gran,
‘THAT’
was the only way.
And ‘THAT’
he said; she said
was simply
NOT
ACCEPTED~~~
NOR
A OK!!!
 
 
She absolutely loved
‘Her’
Lil’ Wayne
‘ev’r’ so,
Lawd, Lawd, Lawd knows.
Yeah
Lil’ Wayne knew too;
through those history walks
an ‘dem’
late, late night
confession talks.
 
Kia and ‘HER’ Lil’ Wayne,
just to put it mild,
“BARB DAWG”
 loved you
like
NO OTHER
GRANDCHILD.
IF
you don’t know
‘HER’
by now;
I’m penning you her thoughts~~~
“Barb Dawg” 
carried you
to her grave
and
returned you both  
back
to God.
 
Dedicated to: Kia and Dwayne Drummond

Barbie
 
 
The original Barbie
came to life
March 9th
-1959.
Or so were told.
She arrived
on the scene
blonde,
brunette,
and bold
as can be.
Not
the likes
of my kind.
Cause none
was made
to look
‘JUST’
like me.
But
I loved, loved, loved
her world
anyhow;
them paper dolls too
‘playin’ alone
was so much fun
when there was ‘nothin’
else
left to do!
 
 
She was cheap
as can be.
Her commercial raved
‘ONLY’
$3.00
for a vintage
Barbie
YOU SEE.
 
 
 
1961
‘MEANT THE WORLD TO ME’.
Ken,
AKA
 Sean Carson, that is;
makes his grand
debut
as none other
than
 Barbie’s
main squeeze
an’
blue eyed
beau.
Mod also
comes along,
‘wit’
Malibu Barbie
‘sangin’
a new tune
to a different
type
of Barbie song.
 
 
 
Finally,
JUST FOR ME,
The VERY first
African American
 Barbie;
came into being.
The year
1968,
and boy
was she ever
so VERY late!!!
She launched
in the 80’s,
nevertheless,
none
really knows her
by name.
Her history,
timeline,
an’ use
of fame
remains a mystery
in
“Christie’s”
guessing game(s).
 
 
 
In 2009,
Farrah Fawcett
an’
Toy Story
attached their names
to Barbs’ brand;
adding ‘bendable’s’
minus
the ‘twistable’
arms, legs
and yes
rubber face and hands!!!
 

 
 
2017,
hard to believe,
but
Barbie’s in her
late 50’s!!!
We drove her car
to the mall,
played in her
carousel kitchen,
lived in her dreamhouse;
yep!
Camper
right outside!!!
O’
sheer bliss.
Sewed her
some clothes,
told her secrets,
that only
she knows.
Barbie knows us well;
as does
Mattel
but she’ll never tell;
a single soul.
Nope
she won’t~~~
even tell
her lil’ sis Skip.
Skipper that is.
Nope
she don’t
even know
who cut her hair
Shhh~~~
But one thing
for sure;
to every lil’
boy and girl
Barbie and Ken’s
memories
of love
are
genuinely
pure.
 
 
Dedicated to: “Who wants to play Barbie?”
 

​Dig Deep
 
Now,
I lay me down
to rest,
on
Merriam-Webster’s,
Collegiate
Dictionary’s
enormous chest.
‘Wit’ ‘sum’
‘Psycho-babbling’,
structural jargon’s
an’
esoteric language
to create
this impression
of
digging deep
at my
utter-most
best.
 
 
 
What did I just say?
Don’t know.
‘Twaz’
just a test.
You failed
though.
 
 
 
For
where there are two
or
three words
gathered
in
research
an’
resource;
compare
an’
contrast
erupt
on one accord,
in-
harmoniousness
discord.
Just like poetic thoughts
lost
in THE “Red Sea”.
‘Sumthin’
floats my boat
within me!
Something ‘ain’t’ quite ‘write’
So, I ‘right’
Hmmm???
 
 
 
 
There are
no words
that
entirely
define
my poetry.
Peculiarity.
Hmm.
No,
that is not me.
 
 
 
My poetry
‘iz’ ‘az’
un-unique
as can be.
Harmless,
as Noah’s dove;
have you not heard?
Well
maybe peculiarity
does
define me.
‘Cause’
that Raven bird
sure does.
 
 
 
Yeah,
a black ‘byrd’ set free
‘wit’ absolutely
NO
return address
to return thee.
 
 
 
I get way too lost
an’
cogitate
poetically
CORRECT
thoughts.
All
in
all;
all is at lost,
when I write
as I
set sail
them pages
in braille.
My ears see
what others
dare dream
My eyes hear
What my mind can’t conceive
My poetry speaks
LOUD AND CLEAR
to those who believe
or perceive
whichever~~~
 
 
 
 
Did you not know?
My heart sets precedence
of a prestigious poetic lepers’
writing prose?
Who knew?
Webster knew,
that his poetry defined me.
Yeah,
I’m in it
way to deep.
 
Dedicated to: Mind games; don’t get ‘em’ twisted.

One on One
 
 
Just saw this photo
of Ty,
and
reminisced
in my head
‘ov’r’
the years;
O’
them gyms
we played in.
Schenley High;
Fall league,
comes to mind.
 
 
Basketball
in her head,
heart,
and
hands.
Two thumbs up!!
Awesome layups
free throws,
foul shots;
always on point
‘whomever’
she guarded.
‘Ev’n’ when
against
my very own daughters.
Yeah
her cousins;
now that’s what’s up!!!
 
 
I recollect
Ty holding
her coaches baby
on her lap,
if
given a break.
Then
guarding her opponents,
rotating back
‘ov’r’ to us
WITH A KISS
‘anna’
SMILE
saying
“I’ll be back at half time”
‘ev’n’ if
for
a lil’ while!
 
 
 
 
Well God kept
Ty’s score.
Now she’s
on
point,
dribbling
The Fathers’ ball
halfway down court,
guarding His gate;
never needing
time out,
nor
worrying
‘bout’
who
she has to fake
out.
 
 
Score is never kept,
cause
she’s on
that
winning team:
“The Heavenly Host”
with none other
than
her Father,
His Son,
and the
Holy Ghost
AKA
The Trinity.
What a dream
on Ty’s team!!!
 
 
Ty
I ‘seen’ you play today
“One on One”
if only
a “cherry pick” away.
 
 
 Dedicated to: LaShawn Lewis, in memory of her beloved daughter “Ty”
(HAPPY 27th BIRTHDAY TYLER “Ty”).

                                I AM A HURRICANE


I wish I were a star
To beam my radiance
Upon your gloom
And chase away
Your darkness.
I wish I were a sea
To hug your tired soul
And give you succour
Whenever the vehement sun
Has worn your strength away.
I wish I were a tree
Gigantic, vast and shady
Like the mighty banyan tree
Branching into poles of the divide
To shield and shelter you
From the snarls and torments
Of the vicissitudes of life.
But I am a hurricane
Which has brought you much pain
I am such a pisser
Galloping on your emotions.


                         WARMING YOUR POWER


My tongue is full of spears
Biting bitterly bewildered,
Into inundating icicles
Of offaly obfuscated oculus.
Disarm me of my haywire prance:
Scouredly scooping sourly salmon
Fecal fighting foully 
Stomach stench straddling saracens
Quacks quaking quackery.
And let me get lost in your frowns
Warming your power
Beside the hit of a glowering lightning.

              THERE IS NO PERFECT MATCH


You were my dream: which
I always longed, come true;
Yet seem like a faraway land.
We are distantly closeby:
Never seeing each;
Like the eye and the ear:
Of a selfsame head.
When I thought I have held you,
I woke to futility;
Of knowing, you, have slipped away
Like a dream,
Which I have woken from,
And never to hold again.
Why do you keep taunting me:
Pouring scores of gold dust into my palm,
Then, blowing them away 
With sneer in your eyes,
And stormy breeze, in your hands?
When I met you, I thought;
I had found shelter
Under your powerful embrace.
But now, I can face the world better:
Knowing when it comes to loving,
There is no perfect match.

                         Coffee with Mr. Conscience
 
​
There are a lot of people like me 
neither rich nor poor, idling 
in the middle who have never wanted 
for anything in our lives.
 
We were reared by parents 
who fed us and sent us to school.
We graduated and found jobs 
and then moved on to better ones.
We raised families of our own.
 
We have pensions now
and can pay our bills.
We can buy a new recliner
when the old one breaks.
 
Which is why I hate to stop 
for coffee at Pete’s Diner
and find Mr. Conscience there 
sipping his and waiting to ask me
what I’ve done for the poor lately. 
 
He’s an old caseworker who 
worked in the projects until retirement.
He volunteers now with a group that 
caulks the gaps public grants don't cover. 
 
He never gives me a moment’s peace,
always after me to help a needy person.
He’ll take cash or a check, isn't fussy.
He’s Mr. Conscience and he drives me nuts. 
But I wouldn't have coffee with anyone else
after watching the inauguration.
 
 
 
 
                          A Question for Dylann Roof
 
 
Dylann Roof defended himself
in the sentencing phase of his trial
after he was convicted of killing 
 
nine people during a Bible study, 
the nine people who welcomed him 
after he walked into their church.
 
Had I been the judge I would have 
asked Mr. Roof to approach the bench
for a private consultation and I’d have 
 
said the court knows you’re sane
because you were certified to stand trial
and you have said insanity is not 
 
the reason you killed these people.
You said it had to be done and you did it. 
Mr. Roof, are you possessed? 
 
 

 
 
                                        An Askew Life 
 

On a clear day in the day room
he will tell anyone he has
had an askew life.
 
When he was a small boy
out for a Sunday walk 
with his parents
his father would shout
not to walk on the edge
of the sidewalk
 
and in grammar school
the nuns would get upset
because he didn’t always
write between the lines
 
and at jobs after college
despite doing things well
and getting promotions 
he had a habit of being late
 
and in a long otherwise
satisfactory marriage
his wife would get upset
because he didn't put stamps 
on envelopes straight.
 
On a bad day in the day room 
he will tell anyone none
of those people is still alive. 
 
 

 
 
                           Mourning a Child at Midnight
 

Some choose not to have children
others maybe one or two 
three seems to be the max now
 
it’s not like when Paul was young 
and a family might have had six or more
the wife at home, the husband working.
 
Families were big back then.
Now families are considered big 
when a couple has more than three.
 
Years ago Paul and Faye had five
but after she took that midnight call 
and learned they had lost a daughter
 
Faye cried for awhile and then
hugged Paul and whispered 
why didn’t we have seven.
 
 

                              A Visit to Charlie’s Diner
 
A corner sentinel for 40 years,
Charlie’s Diner is the only 
landmark in a neighborhood
of blue-collar people
who love their burgers thick 
and juicy along with fries
and a giant pickle.
 
Nina has managed Charlie's
for 30 years and says 
customers never complain.
Prices go up when costs go up
and customers understand but 
they like to moan because it's
the fashionable thing to do. 
 
I ask Nina about Charlie, 
for whom the diner is named.
She says she never met him
but folks still come in and say
Charlie said to feed them
and to put it on the cuff. 
They’ll pay the bill later.
 
She laughs and tells them 
Charlie hasn’t told her that yet.
And it’s no wonder, Nina says.
Charlie died 40 years ago, 
the week the diner opened.
He was a quiet mynah bird, 
never said a word.
 
 

 
 
 
                                                      Invitation For Confiscation
 
​
the nakedness of a bag of lies
is clothed in a shifty sea
of hollowness and leakiness
 
those who always seek to act unimpeded
in search of the curtailment of other souls`
rights forfeit their right to be respected    

​                   Rising To The Challenges Of Today
 
 
History is a story of now,
a story of today’s activities
that becomes a story of the past.
 
History is not only a story of sorrow,
but a carefully-crafted story of tomorrow--
a story of what to initiate, swallow or follow.
 
 
History is a drawing shaped
by people’s decisions and actions--
usually bold, boring but big and beautiful.
 
History is a victim’s fight to claim a future,
it is an aggrieved people’s stride to a destiny
through a clearly defined collective and active voice.
 
History is yesterday’s atmospheric pressure
playing out through today’s barometers of life.
History is more than a story—it is an awakening.
 
History is not a passive past,
but a present progressive response
to the challenges of today and tomorrow.
 
It is our upset tummies crying out day and night
for nothing short of the detoxification and protection
of our bodies from yesterday and today’s abdicables.
 
 
History is you and I doing something
about our present and future situations,
making life-changing decisions and actions.
 
Therefore, be brave, be ready because history
is certainly coming for and counting on you.
Today’s actions are tomorrow’s light or shadow.
 
 
 
  

​                                     What She Said
 
 
From a mere village girl
Who was raped by a man--
Dudu is an international icon
 
I was listening to her
She did not say that
People are saying things
 
 
She did not discuss
Her love life at all either
People are saying things
 
 
She said she will enhance
Africa’s voice against
Those who abuse others
 
In the name of love
She said what sat high
On her agenda was justice
 
What is this story about
Her being saucy and weird
And dating low little men? 
 
Yes she said she will step
On the big testicles of men
Who abuse vulnerable women
 
Does that make her saucy or weird?
Who says the castration of wild bulls
Is a bad idea in a world that needs no beasts?
 

 
                                  Unswayed Folly
 
 
 
a tortoise
has a clownish tendency
of farting and urinating
and sleeping and defecating
on the heads of those who
keep it for whatever reason
 
when people lie and claim
they’re unable to be affected
by dung and damage or unaffected
by bigotry or untouched by suffocating odor
or immune to indecency or impervious to thuggery
then all this begets a big question: are they real?
  

​Rick Edelstein was born and ill-bred on the streets of the Bronx. His initial writing was stage plays off-Broadway in NYC. When he moved to the golden marshmallow (Hollywood) he cut his teeth writing and directing multi-TV episodes of “Starsky & Hutch,” “Charlie’s Angels,” “Chicago,” “Alfred Hitchcock,” et al. He also wrote screenplays, including one with Richard Pryor, “The M’Butu Affair” and a book for a London musical, “Fernando’s Folly.” His latest evolution has been prose with many published short stories and novellas, including, “Bodega,” “Manchester Arms,” “America Speaks,” “Women Go on,” “This is Only Dangerous,” “Aggressive Ignorance,” “Buy the Noise,” and “The Morning After the Night.” He writes every day as he is imbued with the Judeo-Christian ethic, “A man has to earn his day.” Writing atones.

                                           Bigot
 
 
I feel like I’m in a collapsing box
All is too tight from my shirt to my sox
I’m pushed inside to the unsteady ledge
Getting the ride ready to leap off the edge
casablanca sri lanka china carolina goa samoa gambia zambia libya namibia prussia russia
altoona laguna andora sonora aruba cuba
 
Ahhh okay...chant to the max
Helps me relax
Even though I toe the rim of mean
I have to go to words to escape the scene
With nothing to lose
Home of the blues
I’m just gonna’ ramble
And let the words scramble
Not for you to appreciate
It is time to depreciate
Do not attempt to realize
What logical mortals can’t surmise
I need not your permission
To simply own my sedition
 
By now you just may be aware
Said he as if I should care
Of all the media hip hop hyping
That yours truly is stereotyping
Saying that my mouth is like an open spigot
Damning me with a label of a broken bigot
I may be many things including uncouth
But BIGOT stands for Big On Truth
With such a masterful def to dine
God is a bigot not a chef divine
In his omnipotent self
Impotent tenants on the shelf
All kindsa’ shapes and forms
Judging others became the norms
No matter your programmed objections
Avoiding your liberal damned reflections
I won’t buy into your mark of wrong
As I continue to hark my atonal song
Just insisting that you feel and reveal
Beyond your listing to undo the real
You may beseech the reasons why
As each will certainly live to die
Don’t plug in your blanket of politically correct
Like it or not you have to disconnect
And stop blaming me for spouting clichés
Even Stevie can’t drive with directions from Waze
My rant can not be a one plus one equals       
Setting us up for soporific sequels
The world’s meal it deals is not a sensible fad
You can’t conceal the reprehensible bad
Take off your shades ‘n see what you find
Look in the glades and peel back the rind
Throw a dart in a part of the human condition
That charts the heart of prescient perdition
 
Okay time to get on to the nefarious track
Here are the facts for your elegant snack:
 
While I was serving
Afghans unnerving
My wife whom I loved but did not like
Wavered ‘tween sane and nutty psyche
Still she was once my wife
Who just so happened to lose her life
By trying to escape the perennial dues
Of human gloomin’ doomin’ blues
By cavorting and snorting an escaping drug
As deadly as a gaping .45 slug
I may be bent but not broken
A heated need heard but not spoken
Repeated the creed to get satisfaction
A man ain’t a man until he takes action
So when I left the lives of braying motherfuckers
Afghanis sell their wives to low paying truckers
Turbaned hustlers are like a leaking boat
While you plug the holes they steal your coat
With too many teeth missing amid stolen fuel
They lay a wreath while dissing casually cruel
 
My wife was crazy but she made me laugh
Her mind was hazy like a silent giraffe
Yet she mos def didn’t deserve to O-D
So I had to even the scales for me ‘n she
When I left the force I asked around
God’s Favorite Children of course I found
Yes I did a Duterte on the spurious gang
Folks got furious when the Latinos rang
But regardless of sharing your sensitivities
Ignoring your caring baring proclivities
God’s Favorite Children is the name they chose
Their goods go through the vein or the nose
God’s Favorite Children are the Mexican crew
God’s Favorite Children cook up their stew
And distribute a heaping of Amb-Fubinaca
A kilo gets half a mil and that ain’t no caca
By now you may have derided
The end of their game I decided
It was time for the planet to be finally rid
Of God’s Favorite Children whose highest bid
AK-47 24 Karat they labeled as master choice
Discarding any dissenting voice
Drugs made zombies out of all the users
And killed more than half of the weakened abusers
God’s Favorite Children left a deep taste
As I eliminated ten on a heap of waste
Three women and one lone teen with a gun
Fourteen years old and stoned for fun
He looked at me and couldn’t be higher
I aimed my piece and triggered the fire
But I was lurching and searching for the chief
Who got too rich on a bitch of grief
I finally located the drooling pig
Who was mixing and fixing in a bad wig
Jefe fed a dog AK-47 who had convulsions
I saw his eyes pleading in heaving revulsions
I asked el Jefe what did the dog do to you
Fuck him he said it’s from another crew
You shoulda’ seen the face of this ugly dude
Staring at me with a trace of crude
Daring me to challenge his realm of sin
Tight corn-rows, chipped tooth, an evil grin
I wounded him in his bad shoulder
But he stood up strong and got mad bolder
Charging at me I shot each of his legs
He collapsed like white boys’ fraternity kegs
Still alive he ventured to curse me boldly
Through dentured teeth I hearsed him coldly
I said comerlo porcina to this human depletion
Shot him in the heart for this swine’s completion And ripped off his Gucci gold doom necklace
Laughing coochie coochie in the gloom of reckless
Did I tell you the teen who I shot through the eye
He tried to surrender he didn’t want to die
But for me and my wife he had to go
I killed the puppy if you have to know
It was as if his aorta sprung a leak
As blood poured through his acned cheek
I feel like I’m in a collapsing box
All is too tight from my shirt to my sox
I’m pushed inside to the unsteady ledge
Getting the ride ready to leap off the edge
Puppy guppy baboon racoon bat cat beagle eagle calf giraffe crow doe deer steer eel seal fawn prawn germ worm buck duck camel mammal clam lamb
 
Ahhh okay...chant to the max
Helps me relax
 
So does all that rankle you comfortable folk
Who thankful eat eggs without a yolk
To say that the Mexicano dealers
Have nothing to do with Latino healers
That Mexico is filled with positive people
From great parks to churches with elegant steeples
From the Zocalo assuring us you can find
Mexicanos who are pouring and kind
Hiding in your exclusive liberal kinders   
It’s time to remove your delusive blinders
Here’s some info that will strike some fear
In Mexico’s first ten months of the year
There were seventeen thousand homicides
Swallow that with your bromicides
No I’m not validating that ignorant Trump
But we can’t ignore the score from the dump
No matter what your chosen stand
Opinions will not find a lost remand
It’s time for niceties to dissolve into lewd
Reality won’t absolve and will mos def intrude
 
Speaking of which
Try this bitch
Who deemed to favor
And seemed to savor
Condescending tough love
From the worn bench seat above
And no matter how I tried to nudge
No room at the inn from a black on black judge
Oh there you go I can hear ya’
Racist tags don’t make me fear ya’
As you try and punish me with blame
Asserting in God’s eyes we’re all the same
Don’t lay it on God with obstinate lies
Differences in races are not hard to surmise
Black dicks ‘n lips ‘n women’s butts‘re bigger
You can say the n-word but you can’t say nigger
Because we’re all the same is your redundant retort
But stop and look at the world of sport
Like in women’s tennis who is the best
Serena wins with her substantial chest
She’s going to wed a guy who is white
A match instead that’s outta’ sight
And 90 percent of the NBA
Are black men in the field of play
Speaking of the game
What is sadly lame
Is them playing muzac during the action
As if they need to juice the traction
But before it gets lost while your outta’ joint
Stop judging me and admit my point
That stereotypes and clichés
Are accurate in most ways
And if you think this indulgent limerick
Is just a rhyming chiming gimmerick
Or simply a matter of semantics
From a grown man way too pedantic
Insisting that this kinda’ contextual rapping
Was invented by Blacks in Bronx basement trapping
But even that is a canard
Check the rap of the Bard
Or Emily Dickinson or Robert Frost
Poets paid dues at a demanding cost
Like the rapper Bankroll Fresh was killed one night
His real name was Trantavious White
And many players of NBA fame
Have a distinctly different name
Like yes Kentavious Juvale and Tarik
Originality perhaps is what they seek
No I’m not doing a racist contriving
Black names are their spacious striving
 
Okay let’s not limit but dare to spread
The specious wealth of the living and dead
With dark humor at the tip of uncaring
Let’s take a look at our political daring
In fact it really makes me merry
To cop a peek at Rick Perry
Who yearned to be nominated
Or is it to be dominated
Insisting a department is out of date
But couldn’t remember midst debate
The Department of Energy...Ooops, too late
Rick Perry’s a clown to repudiate
In case you aren’t getting drunk in bars
Watching Perry Dance With the Stars
Check out the lout in Cabinet-Trump
Rick Perry will run the Energy’s sump
And how about a man with an attention span
Of a street kid playing kick the can
America’s demise is now evident
By electing him your president
 
Look at me who’s being busted
Only just because I dusted
Those who earned
The right to be burned
While Generals galore
Kill by the score
Drones dropping bombs
With graceful aplomb
Mothers dying
Military sighing
Apologizing target was an error
Tell that to orphans living in terror
And back in the good ‘ole u.s. of a
We’re in the grips of the N.R.A.
Mass murders of children in American schools
But the 2nd amendment keeps us fools
As the lobby got congress by the buns
Supporting sales of more and more guns
Remember the song Chicago Chicago the toddlin’ town
Murders galore is now Chicago’s renown
Killing in Chi-town is now routine
Black blood flows on the streets of mean
And if that ain’t enough
Things got more rough
Americans now own three hundred and ten
Million I said million guns and then
Each owner has an average of eight
Not only to kill just out of hate
Six hundred accidents every year
People die not intended I hear
Kill and kill sister and brother
Unfortunate deaths of one another
Families with children under fourteen
Ooops sorry you’re dead if you know what I mean
Even a two year old boy
Thought it was just a toy
When he found a gun on the floor
Of daddy’s car near the door
He pulled the trigger and shot through the seat
Killing his mother an NRA feat
I know it is a merciful respite you seek
But a toddler shoots someone once a week
And every thirty-eight seconds in U.S. of A.
Many try to off-themselves every day
And daily one hundred do the do
Eliminating their living view
At a rate of more than twice a day
Kids are shot ‘n killed without a say
 
Violence and war are not our way wink wink
We’re really just folks by the kitchen sink
While we raise the flag and sing U.S.A.
Leading in Arms sales as of today
Forty billion dollars at the arms bizarre
We’re ahead of the world near and far
We sold seventeen billion to Qatar
Including devices that will burn and char
Buildings and if people are near
Eliminates their fate have no fear
And to balance things in the middle east
Egypt’s twelve billion adds to the feast
Lest they feel left out eight billion more
To Saudi Arabia’s arsenals’ score
We love peace in the U.S. of A.
But drilling ‘n killing is the American way
And I’m being busted
For those that I dusted
To be burned at the stake
Give me a break
I feel like I’m in a collapsing box
All is too tight from my shirt to my sox
I’m pushed inside to the unsteady ledge
Getting the ride ready to leap off the edge
 
Altruistic nihilistic realistic angsterism gangsterism alaska nebraska I’ll ask ya noise poise boys toys girls curls best breasts light fight
 
Ahhh okay...chant to the max
Helps me relax
 
I’ve been asked why I rhyme
Taken to task for my crime
I do it as it amuses me
I do it because it confuses thee
Including the man with the power
Who sat up there with a glower
The judge the black one was deriding
That I was not law abiding
But how can a person abide
To what is rotting inside
Even the Chinese call the USA
Polarized night and day
Dissolute is a word they used
Dysfunctional and confused
With politicians so often corrupt
Treasonous reason is abrupt
Who can abide to what is not fair
There are no sides in this nightmare
So riding that thought and those words
I rocked on assuming the glooming turds
Would be easily and clearly heard
Even by an academic black nerd
So I told the judge don’t take a side
When there really is naught to abide
He may have heard but did not listen
With dull eyes staring nary a glisten
His orbs glazed as if I was dead
Not giving an inch or even a thread
I tried again and again to make my point
But even then the judge was out of joint
So I shouted you’re not hearing me judge
He glared and just would not budge
Grabbing my dick in an implosive diss
I snapped and rapped then abide this
Which of course the judge did not admire
My rant on his judicial pyre
When he pronounced out his sentence
I announced-not repentance
He said may God have mercy your soul
Mercy from a maniac is not my goal
Oh I can hear from every brainiac
Your God is not a maniac
He is a benevolent force from above
Who offers of course eternal love
And if I go too far in your judgmental libel
You refer me to God’s book the Bible
Which is a dastardly bastardly combination
In Leviticus gays are an abomination
Or selling your daughter into slavery
Exodus permits the knavery
And take Leviticus to your grave
As it approves of owning many a slave
God is good boasts your acumen
While children disfigured is beyond most human
Burn this infidel at the stake
Your God is Good - give me a break.
Even Epicurus who is long time dead
Indicting God he clearly said
If God is omnipotent and help not giving
To the maimed and starving barely living
If your God does nothing in the face of killing
Either he’s not able or perhaps not willing
Then why call him God Epicurus posed
Per Gertrude a rose is a rose is a rose
 
Enough of that let’s move the locus
And rearrange to change the focus
Let’s expand our views
And check out the Jews
Also unleash the scarabs
And invite the Arabs
I can feel and see your glower-full
When I ask why Jews are so power-full
Jews and Arabs are all Semites
With different agendas of wrongs ‘n rights
Release the dark and let in the light
But beware of the bark and the dog’s bite
Here’s the data, the relevant news
The world has 14 million Jews
Who won 15 dozen Nobel Prizes
Yet 2 billion Muslim surprises
Won only three despite the number
No, I am not saying they are dumber
Just a culture that is so severe
Only the Koran do they revere
While they oppress their women to obey
Denying their offerings of the day
Muslims curtail an open college
Denying to women all human knowledge
While Jews are a hundred percent literate
60 percent of Muslims are illiterate
Blaspheme the Koran and Muslims eradicate
Argue about the Torah while Jews educate
Muslims shout to Allah
While Jews nosh their challah
And in case you think I’m ignoring
The Jews who blink while snoring
Look at Israel’s Orthodox
A serious pox on a box of lox
An 8 year old Jewish girl was terrified
When orthodox Jews won’t be denied
Because her dress didn’t fit their ignorant code
They hurled rocks and eggs from their abode
On the bus Rabbis order females to sit in the back
In common with racists and the Muslim’s attack
Jewish extremists removed park benches
Saying women shouldn’t sit with their stenches
So the Arabs and Taliban and Orthodox Jews
All adhere to this repressive muse
Of course women are not like men
Demanding equality again and again
But reality somehow gets in a muddle
In the male/female contentious puddle
You got a pussy we got a dick
Straight or gay take your pick
But don’t go into feminists fits
Just because we like your tits
And to you dues paying faggots I must be blunt
How can you choose dry butts to a juicy cunt
 
TEN MINUTES!
Ten minutes you say.
Okay.
WANT A PRIEST OR A MINISTER?
That’s humorous or sinister
Ain’t this a bitch
I don’t have the itch
I’M JUST THE MESSENGER, MAN.
Listen bro’ not now or when
No minister or priest, see ya’ in ten
 
I feel like I’m in a collapsing box
All is too tight from my shirt to my sox
I’m pushed inside to the unsteady ledge
Getting the ride ready to leap off the edge
 
 
Ten minutes hard to relate
Can’t really concentrate
Rambling
Scrambling
One and one
All sense is done
Nonsense has the floor
Logic ran out the door
Truth to power
Is a wilting flower
The juices seethe
No room to breathe
Mother a mean-spirited beauty
Who never paid her maternal duty
Father shot through the head
I was just a kid when I saw him dead
What the fuck it matters not
Planet earth is ticking rot
New Delhi
Is smelly
Shortness of breath
Thirty G yearly death
Ignore climate change
Die home home on the range
Iranians hooked on meth
Not concerned with impending death
Using shisha to lose weight
Epidemic is a dire fate
I’m ranting
Panting
Nihilistic
Realistic
Hitler was not such a bad bloke
First campaign anti-smoke
All he wanted was healthy men
To say heil Hitler now and then
Christmas was illegal in u.s.a.
Eighteen hundreds pagan holiday
Before Pius became the Pope
He wrote an erotic book that was dope
Terrorism is good for the worn dying biz
Sells flowers to adorn the crying fizz
Street cleaners get neat overtime
Rid the flowers from the seat of the crime
In a hurricane I can dance
Am I still sane perchance
I am on pause
Looking for Santa clause
In summer
A bummer
Do not appear
To show any fear
Asking for repeal
Was not my deal
I coulda’ got it if I repented
For a life in jail I resented
To live and die in the slam
No way Jose no thank you ma’am
This world will soon self-destroy
For every lost girl and boy
This planet-earth just ain’t shit
I am absolutely through with it
 
TEN’S UP. IT’S TIME. READY?
Ready?
For the land of Nod
Yav Hashem, the hand of God
Who the fuck is ever ready?
-  -

When human beings experience trama or life stressors it is not uncommon for their lives to unravel. My passion is to bring a touch of healing and peace through my writings, We as a group need to b reminded that we do not have to go through issues alone someone understands.
I write with a stream of consciousness so as to stay real and truthful. Knowing that no one style of writing is key for all individuals therefore, i draw from experience  to endeavor all genre.
As i am a veteran, mom, wife and lover of all life it helps me to write as if i am sitting next to the child, adult or families.
If you feel anything by way of emotion or food for thought then my purpose as been achieved.
Theresa Ford (MommaT) #1love

                                  Long time coming
 
Summer's engine winding down
Grass stops growing, leaves turn brown
Close the pool, put bikes away
Football season starts today!

Pupils dilate, brain goes south
Shovel chips from bowl to mouth
Wash'em down with icy beer
Listen to the home crowd cheer

Wife comes in. "I'm going out."
"yeah. Whatever. Fine," I shout
Halfway through the halftime show
Wife returns with boyfriend Joe

Sneaks him past me up the stairs
To our room where... Ah, who cares?
I've got bigger fish to fry
Lions, Packers, Bears, oh my

Find the game on Channel Two
Wife's in doorway, hair askew
"Joe and I are leaving town."
Ref just signaled... Yes! First down!

"Kids are coming too," she states
QB comes to line and waits
"Yeah. Whatever, Fine," I say
"Can't talk now. Important play."

On my way to take a pee
Something is amiss, I see
Closet door was left ajar
In the driveway: just one car

Clothing strewn 'cross bedroom floor
Nothing in wife's bureau drawer
Lipstick scrawl on mirror glass:
"Football season? Kiss my a..!"

What would prompt such deep chagrin?
What indeed? I scratch my chin
Maybe I should treat her kinder?
Maybe I should go and find her...

Tragedy and heartache looming
Check my watch. The game's resuming
Score is tied, the ball gods beckon
Gotta stay the course, I reckon

Thirty minutes' worth of plays
Then I'll change my errant ways
Bill and coo and wine and dine her
Buy my gal her own recliner!
 
 
 
                     Do Not be afraid of yourself
 

As I try to understand life
Believing that we all go through strife
Considering the different paths we walk
Do yourself a favor and stop all the talk
Emotions run high
Finding you need to stop the urge
Gaining your perspective so hope can emerge

Have faith in the unknown
Identify the overblown
Just ignore those so called cure-all's
Kindly remember his wake-up calls
Let's back track a minute
Memories are perfect tools
Notably allowing you to understand rules

Open the flood gates to your heart
Please pay attention know that you're smart
Quietly moving through this maze
Readily aware that life's in disarray
Strut on down that road less traveled
Take off those restraints that you've always battled

Undefined gifts are there to discover
Virtually in your sight you just need to uncover
Worrying about your past, present, future
Xerography will only cause conjecture
Yes this is my feeling I truly believe
Zoetic is always the way to proceed
 
 
                                 Check and Balance
 

Being in touch with feelings
Concerned for the few
Does not remove top billing
Elimination of self-renewal
Foreboding causes hesitation

Let emotions on their own untangle
Mention you feel afraid
Nonetheless due to the holes you mangled
Opening up the bulging flood gates
Places in the heart peeking through

Very quietly see that you're growing
Wondrously relinquishing oh so tight reins
Xultations at surrendering that anchor you're towing
You await those road less traveled paved lanes
Zen to your Yang as always is saving grace
 
 
 
 
                           MOMMA (Please Listen)
 

I have to tell you this.

You didn't fail. Not even a little.

YOU ARE NOT A HORRIBLE MOTHER!

You didn't choose this. You didn't want this to happen. You didn't do anything wrong. It just happened. To you. Even though everything within you was screaming no, no, no, no.

God didn't do this to punish you, smite you, or to teach you a lesson. That is not God's way. You could not have prevented this if you tried harder, prayed harder, or were a "better" person. Nor if you are better, loved harder, yoga-ed more, did x,y, or z to the nth degree-fill in the blank with any other lie your mind devises.

No, there is nothing more you could have done. And you are the best mother there is because you would have done absolutely anything to keep your child alive. To breathe your last breath instead. That is the ultimate kind of love.

You are the ultimate kind of mother!!

So wash your hands of any naysayers, betrayers, or those who sprinted in the other direction when you needed them most. Anyone whose words or looks have implied this was somehow your fault. This will never be your fault, no matter how many different ways someone tries to tell you it was.

Especially if that someone happens to be you!!!

Sometimes it's your own inner voice that shoves you into the darkest corner of despair, like an abuser, telling you over and over and over again you failed as a mother. Convincing you if only this and what if that. Saying you coulda, shoulda done this or that so your child would not have died.



         DO NOT BELIEVE IT, NOT EVEN FOR A SECOND!!!!


YOU ARE THE BEST DAMN MOTHER IN THE ENTIRE WORLD!!!!!

No one else could do what you do. No one else could carry this unrelenting burden as courageously.

There is no one, no one, no one who could ever, ever replace you. No one. You were chosen to be my mother. Yes--chosen. You have a sacred strength.

You are the mother of all mothers!!!!!!

So breathe, mama. Believe, mama. Fight mama, you did not fail not even a little.
For what it's worth, I see you.It takes invincible strength to mother a child that you can no longer, hold, see, touch, or hear.

You are a superhero mama!!!!!!!

The truth is, you haven't failed at all. In fact, just the opposite. You are truly, the most inspiring, courageous, loving mother there is-a warrior mama through and through.

YOU ARE THE MOTHER OF ALL MOTHERS, FOR EVEN IN DEATH, YOU LOVINGLY MOTHER YOUR PRECIOUS CHILD STILL!!!!!!!!
 
 
 
                     Job=Bribery or Best Applicant
 
 
Inspired by the 'digital' innovations...
Placed in the traffic of technical invasions
After his hard earned education...
Man sets out to his ambitious mission

He discovers "Stigmas" that often haunt..
Confronted with authoritative  people who tend to taunt!
Discouraged but still looking...
Realizes "Jobs" are on the basis of advance booking

High recommendations in a firm
Leaves common applicants in a squirm
Skilled professionals take a back seat
Pay money to get a job - It's a defeat!

The dream job cruise is never smooth sail
The pace may be violent and makes man frail
The virus of society-multi-level corruption
Affects the changing face of generations

Money-minded society - skills exists ...
Young talented minds can't resist
Facing atrocity that wreaks a sluggish economy
Peace filled with tears - a false harmony!
"Fight bribery" - the voices are low
Mostly spoken so no will know
 

 
 
                                             a 5344 foot goal
 
​
Word association:
Cascade, Snowy,
Skylight.  Visually
gentle and pretty.
I ‘see’ footage
of Marcy,
the highest peak.
Am I up to the
struggle to reach
the uppermost
point of another
Natural creation?
Imagine what a
view I’d have from
that Adirondack
Mountain top.
  
 
                                               Narcissus               
 
 
Impressed was she
by hands unused
except to hold
a cigarette.
One brow was raised
her mouth a sneer,
she tossed her head
then tapped one foot.
Fell ashes now
with spite she missed
the tray that stood
within her reach;
impressed was she
by self, though none
about her was.
 
 

   Michael Marrotti is an author from Pittsburgh with a chemical imbalance and lack of patience. He's also a faithful volunteer at the Light Of Life Rescue Mission going on three years now, he believes in action. You can purchase his chapbook here: https://www.amazon.com/F-D-Approved-Poetry-Michael-Marrotti/dp/153907577X and if you need to reach him: michaelmarrotti@gmail.com

                                        Christ Killers
 
Bob Dylan
gave us something
to think about
through the power
of rhythm and soul
you go your way
and I'll go mine
 
Adam Sandler
made us smile
when life began
to show its
hideous face
tears can wait
Funny People
is hilarious
 
Michael Savage
proved to be fit
as my personal mentor
from inept to adept
he helped to advance
my critical thinking
 
Woody Allen
was there for me
when I couldn't
make up my mind
over what woman
was best
Manhattan taught me
valuable life lessons
 
Jonas Salk is
worthy of my
admiration
the man is
a miracle worker
he saved millions
of lives by creating
the vaccine for Polio
 
From monotheism
to Hollywood
communism
in-between
they survived Hitler
to produce
cellular phones
atomic energy
the Heimlich maneuver
and yes even Google
 
Bernie Sanders
was running
a campaign on ethics
all that support
he received
was a crucial blow
to anti-Semitism
 
The chosen people
throughout time
have endeavored
to make a more
sensible life
out of all this madness
 
The world is not
spinning in harmony
but it's better off now
after all their contributions