Toys of Yore

Among the many of some note,

In all my local ponds;

I built and sank many a boat,

The toys, of which, I was most fond!


Fathers and Sons

Under watchful eyes they stand,

Poised upon a precipice,

Regarding the plunge ahead.

Quietly, they watch,

Sitting on, perhaps, a bench,

Nostalgic, proud, and yet, afraid.

Not too long ago, they stood,

Upon the lips of similar brinks,

Regarded then, as now,

By men in quiet contemplation.

Beneath These Treads

From snowy Vermont woods

To sunny shores of Venezuela,

From Rain soaked Thai jungles

To bone dry sands of Arizona,

From mountains to beaches,

From Virginia to Hawaii,

Along the bank of the Blue Danube,

And many places in between,

These eyes have seen much,

This heart has soared and broken,

But mostly these feet have slogged.

Brutal Behest

Her invitation came

Addressed with snark and fury.

“Welcome to my chaos!”,

She offered as her greeting.

“Swim awhile, here with me

Among this drifting wreckage,

Floating fragments of dreams and plans, 

Hopes and wishes for my shattered life.”

She served this raging petit four;

Smallest sliver of her misery

With a bitter aperitif, piercing my heart

In its acrid headward rush.

Did she hope to whet my appetite

With her caustic bread; cordial bile?

In truth, I find her burden 

Shared is less a burden lessened; 

But more a sorrow spread.

“Here is my vast, crass repast! 

Will you savor with me?”

Those Lofty Peaks

Here we stand

On this valley floor

Amid verdant, fertile fields,

Blooming orchards, and groves aplenty,

Staring up in awe

At those frosty, barren peaks

Towering above

Demanding our attention.

Why do we grant them our affection

When they offer us no food,

No care, and zero warmth,  

Only bitter condescension?

All we need we have down here,

Homes and hearths,

Friends and family,

Sustenance and sure embrace.

What need have we of lofty heights,

Rarified airs, and frigid, sterile, visages?

What need have they of our regard,

Our adoration, praise, and worship?

Can we thrive without them?

Can they survive without us?

Unattended Children: Day 7- 11:37 pm

The good news folks; God

Most certainly does exist:

Bad news is; he’s resting…


Hey Y’all, God’s resting:

Won’t he be surprised

With what he finds on waking?

Question is;  will he approve…


When he awakens,

Will he miss the Great Auk’s cry?

Will he long to swim

With Caribbean Monk Seals

Or Baiji River Dolphin?


Is there any point

Even trying to clean house,

Or is it just too late?


Perhaps we’d better pack

Our limited possessions,

And slink away into darkness.


This Is Not My America

“Oh say can you see” does not mean

We turn a blind eye to injustice.

“By the dawn’s early light” does not mean

We can ignore our dark past.

“Proudly we hailed” does not allow us

To look down upon others with disdain.

“Twilight’s last gleaming” does not imply

Our best days are behind us.

“Broad stripes” are not labels

With which we paint our fellow man.

“Bright Stars” don’t refer to

Tinseltown tabloid headliners.

“The perilous fight” is not talking about

The two year long presidential election process.

“Over ramparts we watched” isn’t 

A reference to the walls of our gated communities.

“Gallantly Steaming” is not about

Binge watching “Game of Thrones” on wifi.

“Rockets red glare” is not a commentary

On the lackluster performance of an NBA team.

“Bombs bursting in air” is absolutely not

About a demeaning sexual scenario!

“Our flag was still there” isn’t a call for

Ill conceived military adventurism.

“That Star-Spangled Banner” is not some

Holy relic to be worshiped and praised.

And most importantly

“The land of the free” does not mean

People are free to shoot police and

“The home of the brave” does not mean

Black men have to be brave to leave home.