There is tropical warmth and listless life

In the city this morning of July 9th 2020
The poet finding her hidden voice
While searching for the correct words,
Just to coincide with the invisible
birds with the sweetest tunes,
on church street and  Tennis road

The stillest trees with the airborne disease
Presses on despite its odds choice
Yet, they say my poems isn’t up to parody

A poet must stay in her lane,
A painter must control each and every stroke,
An essential worker must embrace the moments
Of respect, because it’s not going to last

As well as the stillest trees,
with the airborne disease
must presses on despite its odd choice?

I think the citizens of this country
should stop focusing
On what Mr. Trump says or do.
They should reminisce on why
They elected him in the first place

My mixing bowl did not get on top the tallest shelves
By itself:**
Someone place it there, and somebody have to take it down

There is tropical warmth and listless life
Around most country today,
And yes, there is going to be more missing children,
As we move forward dealing, with crisis like this
Pandemic, politic and riots:

Because when we don’t paid the Pied Pipers
Our livelihood and our children will vanish:

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!

Oh heavenly Bible,
he stood there holding you
A fibber, a republican, the people choice
So many times I saw him at the podium
Jeering and coming up against the people of God.
Yet, not a bible near by>>

A hope of promise to his followers
A curse to the dark, yellow and brown foreigners:
He often said that he inherited a mess
So were my father exact words
After he brought a second hand old Wolsey car
Back in 1967: he too inherited a mess

Now the crime in the land is uprising
More regrets than before: is servicing
More bombing than the Vietnam War

How shallow can one be?
How detached is he from his constituency:
The fear of the ego, and the power of the spirit
A poet ponders, about his next tweet or text

Such men behind the wheels:
means a nation will suffer,
God children pray
for justice and for peace.

They wealth kept on
growing from the backs of slaves
That is why we grieve?
Each and every day

An apple tree without fruits,
Cows without milk,
chicken without eggs
A well without water, those little things
we took for granted, is like a nation without
Patience, kindness and loyalty

Proverbs 28:11
The rich man is wise in his own eyes,
But the poor who has understanding searches him out;
!

To see how the sun went down in violence
on the west side of Chicago inner city
As I stood there in misbelieved with my
Poet’s pen, observing and documenting:

The situation was getting out of hand:
loud crashing sound became a shamble
  of small glassy diamonds glittered
in the  heat of the night:

  The longing, restless soul,
Chanted no justice, no ******* peace
Repeats like my ancestors drums,:

The sun went down on the town
Like the pied piper of Hamlin
As the youth, cry out for justice,
the merchant cry out to Jesus
to save their  fine  pearls,
the family legacy”
as the the restless crowd moved on with the crimes
Looting, fighting and misbehaving.

The police officers planted more rocks
On every corner, of the streets,
No justice no peace

Marching with the youths with their
Pants hanging low, in solidarity
.Ignoring the warning of the authorities
Their faces rage with anger.
Their mind made up.....

Long Lasting pepper spray set in like a finish touch
The crowd grew larger and larger..
The sun went down with blood shed
    While I stood there capturing history of the restless
  
Moaning for their mothers arms while
Pleading, resisting, please officers,
“What’s all this all for
Black lives don’t matter..

I kept seeing Derek Chauvin posture,
so casual, so photogenic

Nine Minutes Of agony, as he squeeze the light out of George Floyd
On May 25, 2020, George Floyd, a 46-year-old black man,
was killed in Minneapolis, Minnesota
during an arrest for allegedly using a counterfeit bill
.
I just cannot get the image of George Floyd
Out of my mind, while others might see the knees of death

I saw a history of abuse, I saw a revolution,  
Apartheid, Doctor King, speeches’
I saw a poet pen, fumbles for words,
I saw emotions of my words turning to why?
A another movie in the making,
I saw an unknown man and his family
About to make history in the making;

I saw a rainbow, with the rain,
I saw blood in the streets of America,
I saw the scar on my ancestors backs fading
Somehow at this moment
I can see the Promised Land emerging as
I Stand in my showers or is it tears?

A mango is not only a fruit it’s represent the tropic
An image of memories, it organic taste
This represents the first bite to the last:
Tracing back to its originality,
Tropical warmth, which smooths the lips
The sweet, succulent taste is noticeable:

Somehow, the roots refuse to grow
In Brooklyn, amount the sandy earth
Where the suffering continues,

A mango tree will never rooted in Brooklyn.
The soil is useless and barren,
Seized with an impotent anger
Where the death toll rises daily

The forgotten essential workers
Who is seldom mention.
Who is so often belittle,
Porters,
Cooks,
Laundry workers
Dish-washers,
Elevator-repair men
Recreations,
Front Desk clerks
Certified Nurse’s Aide
Home health aide
Waiters,
God! Oh how hard we work!
Private’s aides

Now as we celebrate Juneteenth 19
Black lives matters, can we really be seen
After four hundred years of oppressions
Can we tossed back river of tears
we are in 2020 is this our commission?

We as Essential workers in your nursing homes
Being tested twice a week,
By your essential worker phlebotomist
Who puncture my vein with his cannula?
For the governor executives order
listen up you uncouth nurses who poke
The swab sticks deep into my nose.
Listen this quackery has to end!
Pandemic, politics, election strategy
We essential need more respect.
You with your white privileges, and your treats

(RE: PCR swabbing, week being on Wednesday and ends on Tuesday.
If you work 4 or more days you need to be swabbed 2x per week
In a 48hrs time frame, if not you will be taken off the schedule
You will be humiliated, said the Administrator  Mr. Sal
Because he is not a babysitter there to reminds you..
Said a non- professional white privileges)
as the city navigate the pandemic
moving on to injustices of systemic racism,
poverty, militarism and
a war economy:

Mr. Governor Cuomo: I cannot breathe..
I
Mr. Governor Cuomo: I cannot breathe