In Orange County
In Orange County, Californiyay,
When you arrive at John Wayne Airport,
No need to show driver license or passport,
But be prepared for inspection to gain entry.
Are your teeth white enough to light the roads?
Is your navel hairless and clean enough to be licked?
Do you have two tats, if not, get going back
If your not blonde, produce pictures of your parents,
In any event, law demands, go directly to the colorist!
Everybody smiles and says hello, so friendly,
But having mastered the technique of doing so
While looking over and past you, rest assured,
Your New York sensibilities of ignoring the movie star
Sitting next to you on the subway feels like the ultimate,
In this place the sun never sets, which is why the citizens
Have sunglasses surgically attached to their heads.
Have not seen a big nose 'cept mine
Being looked down on from people who by law
Must be a minimum of six feet tall.
Need my gritty, need my cabbies giving me the finger,
Need the senior citizens fighting tooth and elbow for anything on sale,
Need my rivers, need to bleed orange and blue,
Need my ballet, my museums, my rude compatriots,
Who rush to your side when you sidewalk stumble,
Who never judge a book by its cover,
Cause the jerk next to you is likely the author.
Who open their pockets and hearts to every needy person,
Hand extended, give 'em a buck, genuinely wish 'em God Bless,
They who let us share the fabric, woof and weave of our
City streets, their homes...
I got beach, I got mountains,
So maybe they're not visible from my living room,
But I got more living in the hearts of my fellow Yorkers,
Than there are grains of sands on the beaches of
the last time i was home
to see my mother we kissed
and unpleasantries pulled a warm
comforting silence around
us and read separate books
i remember the first time
i consciously saw her
we were living in a three room
apartment on burns avenue
mommy always sat in the dark
i don’t know how i knew that but she did
that night i stumbled into the kitchen
maybe because i’ve always been
a night person or perhaps because i had wet
she was sitting on a chair
the room was bathed in moonlight diffused through
those thousands of panes landlords who rented
to people with children were prone to put in windows
she may have been smoking but maybe not
her hair was three-quarters her height
which made me a strong believer in the samson myth
and very black
i’m sure i just hung there by the door
i remember thinking: what a beautiful lady
she was very deliberately waiting
perhaps for my father to come home
from his night job or maybe for a dream
that had promised to come by
“come here” she said “i’ll teach you
a poem: i see the moon
the moon sees me
god bless the moon
and god bless me”
i taught it to my son
who recited it for her
just to say we must learn
to bear the pleasures
as we have borne the pains
Nikki Giovanni, “Mothers” from My House. Copyright © 1972 by Nikki Giovanni.
One Life To Live, One day I'll die,
open your eyes and Look to the sky,
now that's a high, I could never reach even
if I hit my peak, some people want us dead
we a last of a dying breed, L.A.D.B,
my future was looking bleak,
but I got down my knees
and prayed to G.O.D,
Father forgive me
I'm repenting for the selfish deeds
of my past and present,
chasing freaks and rolling trees,
popping bottles of the Hennessy,
exposed to the fast life fueled by ecstasy,
I never planned to quit my school and earn a G.E.D,
growing up I had goals and I had dreams,
then life slowed down all my friends were dope fiends,
some are locked up and some jammed in between,
rehabilitation over incarceration,
now I live sober a life, my wife's my motivation, my inspiration and every day's a celebration,
GOD grants second chances if you dedicated,
1life 2live bless the mic, while the earth shaking,
the past repeats itself, I hope you learned
something from me, I hope you learn something from me.
Life Is Precious.
A tear falls for those lost in war
A tear falls for those lost in hatred
A tear falls for those poor lost souls
Who have been fighting the battle of death?
With cancer and for those simple because
They were in the line of fire
I lay my heart and soul down for them all and pray
For those lost to us
May they forever be in our hearts?
I ask for those still feeling lost and alone
Just reach out
Take your heart
Share it with a friend or family
Be grateful you are still alive
Be thankful you can be who you want to be
Oddly enough they were soldiers of war whom gave there all
Innocent victims of war…who made things possible for us all
To live and breathe within our lives as we live now
We the living must give our gratitude and respect
For those that have given their all
©Kaila George 2013
honey you should see me with the crown
jewels stack atop a pyre
moaning like a beatnik and a 4 AM cheap hooker
at a truckstop in Saint Louis
i have heard the failure
of words dripping
from ten thousand suburban roofs
from tongues of boys who would
have been around the point
of intellect and left with
nothing but like's and um's
and snatches and playing
with their privates
and slogans like
hip hobart my hip hobart
and god bless america
and for god and country
and heil hitler
wheres the last train to cool
out of a moral landscape
from a moral heart
from a moral chest
shine your shoes read the news
about motel art and the price of oil
clinging to the side of a lifeboat
of boredom and inadequacy
in a world of grey pinstripes
and papers in latin with seals
of broken fuse boxes and cluttered attics
ive heard crying
bookshelves and binary friend limbo
playground bullies and their mother's
nipples when they were bit in the 90's
all in the shape of noise to come
in uncommon deference
to never better
to the shake shake
shaking of basements
on broken foundations
honey you should see the chop of Seneca
and the drowning of dumb
deaf blind Zarathustra
and the feminist freak of new york
and dead gianni on a gold lacey pillow
saint angie no boobs, god bless her
and kill william in a yellow suit
don't forget thatcher
and ugly eleanor red roses and velvet
it's marilyn monroe or joan holloway
it's the curvy precious of purity
and act of innocence
it's anne frank, the jewish sweetie
jean harlow who reeked of virginity
but realized too late
that it's only for the boys
who love white and pretty floral things
i say to women,
have lots of dirty sex
and cut off your boobs
chop your fucking hair off
fuck the feminists
I plan to give her pedicure once again this time.
She will be happy and bless me from her heart.
And her smile will be so content-filling to me.
Her blessings are such great that I met you.
It was on the last year's June 19, Tuesday.
She will complete fifty two years this year.
You led me here we were friends on 19/6/12.
If I must remind ourselves then I'll recount it.
We had met on the biggest socializing website.
Then you & me were like the beauty & the poet.
Here I have written several poems just for you and I know you enjoy reading those because you told me.
Written for my best friend, Kripi Mehra.
My HP Poem #224
painting red across my wrist
and all i wanted was a better view
"wake up" it says "let's go get high"
my cheeks flushed hot red
damped by my fears
bored because i'm dumb
it calls me a queer
my mind although
is a riot that you watch
from your tv
doll parts scattered
bless my body
bless my soul
wrap it up in
you're so fucking
you fit right
this makes absolutely no fucking sense, and it's rubbish
enjoy - who the fuck am i?!
Cheer the soldiers. Onwards,
To their senseless death.
But rest with ease, they are in
A better place now,
Send a few million more,
For the good of The Nation
That God wishes to
Reign over and destroy all others
With guns and Psalms twenty seven– one.
Quoting phrases akin
To such as that,
Who can deny
The crowds of citizens.
Unbeknownst to them the
In every battle betwixt
US and the current Evil.
Praise be to God.