What is freedom, to breathe, to talk, and to travel?
Oh how we took for granted those past years:

What is freedom summer, here in America?
Where we can still purchase a bottle of cold coke cola for a dollar
But wouldn’t be able to sit on the stoop with friends
Just sipping, and chatting away.

Thinking of a time in history when

Freedom summer was a nonviolent effort by
civil rights activists to
integrate Mississippi's segregated
political, system during 1964.

A poet who knows her history is exceptional
Poets words can sometimes comes off as gossip column

What is freedom?

In 2020 without the interference of
Other countries, city or states…. or the faces of
heart breaking stories of missing persons….
Who took a stroll or jog through the wrong street
And end up in the news while they were
trespassing in Karen’s neighborhood

What is freedom:  not to be cage,
Not to be muffled and not to be Taser by the police:
What is freedom summer of 2020 in New York City.


Limited!
Complicated!

On the edge of autumn,
I see the sky and trees all
ablaze with color.
I can still smell the
smoldering fires of fierce youth,
when the landscape of my
heart was wild;
a wilderness that wouldn't
be tamed.
But I'm afraid that
old age has quenched my
thirst for adventure.
Even my poems have lost their teeth.
Gone are my scabbed up knees and
swords made out of sticks.
No beautiful maidens to rescue;
Just constipation to overcome;
as I listen to the
ticking of the clock.

Sleep, my friend, and dream of youth and glory days,
when the heat of sun in summer burned a hole through clouds and haze,
and we focused on the present, for the past was gone and done,
and we waited, for the balance of our lives had not begun.

Wake, my friend, and see the living all around, for your
family and your friends are most surely gathered ‘round to
hold your hand, and whisper words of hope and faith and prayer, and
know that God is listening, and know that God is there.

Cry, my friend, for tears, like rain, will help to cleanse the soul.
Understand He has a purpose, understand He has a goal,
and even though it isn’t fair, He is with you every hour
so thank Him for your blessings, and rejoice in Heaven’s power.

Sing, my friend, with angels, when the pain of life is gone,
and your family and your friends are left on earth to carry on,
but only for a second, then they will be with you again,
for life on earth is fleeting, eternal life will never end.
Phil Lindsey 8/4/17

The news was expected,
Still, she died today;
She's the last of our parents,
Our children will cry,
So will you,
So might I.
Her great grands didn't know her one bit.
The oldest being just six,
While Gram was sick, long out of touch,
For most of the years of those kids.
The fact is she's passed,
And so it is.
But give it some time,
And we'll witness the line,
In those kids.

We don't know our Best Before Date,
And that's a good thing.
But if you're in the Dairy Section,
Fire on all udders,
Don't kowtow to bullies.
Remember, the herd has your back.

If you find yourself in Produce,
Then produce;
Don't be content being
A pea in a pod.

There are the cereal killers,
Using wry wit,
And Rye Not.
Many are marbled and flat,
But not us,
We're Christmas Cake,
We Endure.

ME, I'm in the Meat section,
An offering of flesh and smoke
On the BBQ altar of rendering.

Yes, we have a definite shelf life,
Growing stale, curling at the sides,
Drying out,
Souring and curdling
Till our expiration date.

Poor wee me
When I was wee,
I used to sit on my mother's knee;
Her apron tore,
I fell to the floor,
Poor wee me when I was wee.

Poor young me when I was young,
The song's of youth are those I'd sung;
Songs of love that since have gone,
Poor young me when I was young.

Poor middle me back some years,
I worked and worried, drank whiskey and beer;
Paid my way and prospered here,
Poor middle me back some years.

Poor me today, poor me will stay,
For many poor years to come;
For I've things to do, places to go,
With granddaughters and grandsons.

Over the decades,
We've worked it out.
No need for a Power of anyone.
If I go blind,
You'll be my sight.
And so on.
I will supply
What you lack;
And you promised,
Should I *****,
To leave me on my back.

We first sexed in a tumbling, fumbling manner;
The time had come, it seemed to us,
To consummate our ****** lust.

The Valley was shakin' to The Rocks,
A popular Irish band;
We'd had our fill,
I sparked the engine,
And parked my bike on Techumseh Hill.

The summit was dew damp;
We spread wide our pants,
Not knowing who should go for whom,
So we relented to the crescent moon;
I acquiesced to the shooting stars
When my eyes

Diverse moons have filled my nights,
Long since the grassy knoll,

I sometimes think about the 'if only'
And dream about the 'what might have been'
What does all this have to show me
Am I not happy with the place I'm in

All those years of reckless living
Would I have lived any differently
They say that hindsight is 20/20
Why can't I see what's front of me

I'm trying hard for the 'here and now'
To live what's 'past is past'
To count each and every blessing
Being thankful for everything I have

Why is man never satisfied
Always wanting so much more
Not taking up their lot in life
Looking for a bigger score

Today is going to be 'one of these days'
Of the 'When my ship comes in'
I can stand right where I'm at and say
'I am where I should of been'

You can be a boulder,
Unmoveable, hard, stoic;
But every stone is permeable,
And the water gets in
To make the rock sand...
Soft, malleable,
With indistinguishable grains.

I know others who swim
Against adversity to spawn in the current.
They believe destination is destiny;
Focussed, driven with tunnel vision.

Some face adversity like a roller-coaster.
When things are going north, all is good;
But they throw up their arms and scream
When going south.

I will catch the west wind,
Change course if necessary,
Tack across the white caps of roiling waters.
I will steer the rudder towards my East.

When the rainbow shines bright
Leaving shadows on the water
I'll be there
I'll make you so much stronger

I will forever be there
in the darkest of nights
And in the bluest of days
To show you delights

We will always be one
Together you and I
Forever my sun
There to light up the sky

I found a hole in my bucket list
Like an hourglass
My dream are slipping,
Dripping on my bare floor.

I should be really ******
Because I'll miss
Entering through unknown doors.

I haven't time to fix the hole,
The grains are moving,
And Mammy's calling her babes home.

My favourite just hit the ground,
Like a blood stain,
Or a sewer vein,
It  makes not a sound.

Two floats in the air,
Three's on the lip,
Four swirls near a hole,
The remaining dreams
Are caught in the eddy;
The final drop's precariously ready.

Eliza's fix would surely falter,
My bucket list can't hold water.