He's a small black man
from Baltimore County
brings the witching hour
always craves a meal
or two.
Thomas.
Treads like Neruda's doves
on slippered feet.
Flicks his tail
and tales are told
the galaxies turn
Baltimore disappears
in the rear view mirror.

My man
my dark sprite
of hunger and thirst
first and best
Cat.

Pretty little singing blue jay,
petite chanteuse in navy gown,
your sweet tweets drive the gray away
and pick me up when I am down.

But, blue jay friend, so help me GOD,
if on my car lands one small poo,
I'll climb that tree and drop my pants,
and return the favor to you.

Early one morning, before sun took to sky,
they came to take Johnny. It was his time to die.
The town had all gathered, the crowd circled in.
As Johnny was strong armed, by four big men,
and lead to the gallows, to hang until dead.
They called for his blood, and he just turned his head.

Johnny stayed silent, as the hateful calls came,
with no pleas for his life, or innocent claim.
He stepped to the noose, with no fear in his eyes,
not every man chooses just when he dies.
But Johnny had taken, the life of a man-
with no explanation, with his own bare hands.
The crowd raised their bibles, demanded him dead,
they called for his life, and he just turned his head.

The priest at the gallows, looked him in the eye,
and said to him "Johnny, you're fixin' to die.
You've been tried and sentenced, and haven't been heard.
You're found guilty of ******, and y'ain't said a word.
It's too late for you now, to make recompense,
but do you have any last words, to speak in defense?"
The crowd was voracious, they wanted him dead.
He just cleared his throat, and lifted his head...

The silence that followed, was stuck in their throats,
as Johnny spoke up, in no broken notes.
"The man killed my brother, and then was set free.
He was friends with the judges, that execute me.
If justice shall fail, then take vengeance instead-
so I took the man's throat, and I choked the man dead.
Now I face the gallows, I do so with no dread."
The crowd remained silent. Each one turned their head.

The sun broke the darkness, on the top of that hill.
Johnny stopped speaking, and stepped to the ****.
The noose was pulled tight, up under his chin.
He looked towards heaven, eyes vacant of sin.
The old oak trap door, creaked under his feet,
and with a pull of a lever, the deed was complete,
and a peaceful expression graced the face of the dead;
and even the hangman, had to turn his head.

Later that evening, as the sun left the sky,
she sat at John's grave, with no tears left to cry.
She dropped a red rose, on the freshly dug earth,
and said goodbye to the last child, she'd ever giv'n birth.
She'd buried the other, as she buried this one,
one died for the other, to see justice done.
She sat there and pondered, where the road had lead.
Then she stood up, heartbroken, and just turned her head.

There're few stories mournful as Reese's,
who, on dynamite, wrote his thesis.
One day, as dawn broke,
he lit up a smoke,
and BOOM!  Now it rains Reese's Pieces.

When I was young,
I thought that one day
I'd learn to shave my face
and wear a polio brace.
This might seem absurd to you,
but I just thought it's what you do
when you become a man.

My father wore one of his own,
His left leg, withered to the bone,
and Dad was the first man I knew,
so I thought that was just what men do.
He walked with a limp,
but his head held high.
He looked life, no shame,
right in the eye.
He didn't let a moment pass him by,
because that's what men do.

He went to college, and got a degree,
and earned his keep most honestly.
He never asked for charity,
though he said "there's no shame
if you have to."
He was always humble, but not insecure,
of mind and body he was always sure-
for he kept them healthy, kept them pure,
because that's what men do.

He was always smiling, and quick as a whip,
his dinner parties were always a trip-
watching him and his guests exchange quips;
he was the funniest guy they knew.
And if a loved one was down and out,
he was the first one there, without doubt.
He said you should never let one do without,
because that's what men do.

He had a strong mind, and the heart of a bear,
He faced even tragedy with savoir faire
But his strong calm demeanor didn't hide his care,
The world knew his heart was true.
He stayed faithfully by my mother's side,
as the cancer took her and she slowly died,
I understood, when he finally cried,
that that is what men do.

I grew up and learned how to shave my face,
but not before Dad went to a "better place".
Still, til his last breath, he faced life with grace,
with a smile on his face, and a polio brace,
because that's what men do.

With the very last ounce of strength
its tiny, broken body brings,
it takes one final shot at life,
and slowly, once more, ***** its wings.