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Just when the day wanes longer,
Legs and body not getting any stronger,
Memory short and not clear,
Times of ending days are near.

Hair turns from gray to white,
And it seems like you're not feeling right.
When you're hearing turns quiet
And you're not as fit but put on a strict diet---
That's when I get old.

When there's less and less of family and friends,
And it seems to wonder when will it end?
When the beginning seems far, far away  after day---
That's when I'm getting old.

Time is swiftly moving a long,
Super speed in minutes and time,
The winter years are quietly here
Those days you can't get back or even find---
That's when I'm getting old.

When family multiplies even more,
One by one and generation after generation,
They are your family strong and bold
Building up of what we have left---
This is the duty of family when I get old.

Looking back through the years
In the mirror of life it's self
Going back in time in space
Where knowledge is like  wealth---
As I 'm getting old.
5 Nov. 2018
Just a thinking about getting old at age 57.
a poem to America

The sun arose this morning
Shining among the horizon high
The blue skies is met with a streak of colorful rays of light.
Beyond the sounds of nature bloom
The sounds of industrial hustles and bustles
Being heard like a symphony--
A symphony of nature's glorious sounds that brings about the day.

The sounds of the day begins---
Sounds of workers working,
The rhythm of engines roaring as the city comes alive
And the city's skyscrapers reaches up high to the blue skies
To the heavens high.

While below the busy ant people gathers
To start a working day
Be it poor, rich, middle class or ***
They are busy about their busy day like so
And so are those called Americans.

The sounds of the city is heard as sirens roar
As the city is awaken by the sounds of the day
Trouble stirring  about
In the city that never sleeps.

And when the day is done
The busy people conclude their day
And now the night comes.....
It was a good day.
Lend me your ears,
So you can hear,
What I am saying to you
So listen up!!!

The voices in the masses speaks
In volumes so that you may peek
At this world around you
So listen up!!!

The voices of children dying one by one
From the barrels and bullets of guns,
They fall one by one like dominoes
And you need to listen up!!!

This inspires poets like me
To write the truth you see
And bringing to attention around you
Open up your ears and listen up!!!

Lend me your ears
So you can hear
What I am saying to you
So people LISTEN UP!!!
Soothe me
Groove me
Making my nature rise
Even in four-part harmony,
As the music rocks me to sleep,
And in that time of slumber deep,
The night's wonderful sounds so,
Sweet, tasty and even bold,
With that soft music serenades me
Oh so right and so deeply.
The night music has a flair,
For just soothing you and like the Staple Singers it will "Take You There."
Soft and sweet,
Sweet and softly but deep,
You make my heart flutter so,
Because that's the way love goes,
Soothe me.
Groove me,
Make my nature rise,
Even in four-part harmony,
As the music rocks me to sleep,
And that time of slumber deep,
Rock my world with your music
Sweetly, sweetly soothe me...
for in memory of Gwendolyn Brooks

You inspire me
And touch my very soul
Setting my heart and mind free
Making poetry valued like gold.
We loved the voice you gave
To those without a voice
And if you had a choice
It would be the voices of millions of souls
That may not hear otherwise you know.
You were the light for other poets dwell
In places, we may not go
And you ever wished well
Truly loving us really so.
So there I said what I have to say
To my muse forever
If it hasn't I wouldn't be here today.

January 2005
Written for my favorite muse
to Nelson Mandela

We say farewell to our beloved brother
Father Africa a loyal friend
Who taught us to get along with one another
Even until the bitter end.

he was our warrior for justice and peace
Our warrior for the betterment of mankind,
In the spirit that is good, we release,
His spirit as we come together and bind.

As the sunsets in the South African skies,
And over mountains high standing
We stand with lifted hard wave our goodbyes
To our warrior, our hero our friend.....
A poem dedicated to the great Nelson Mandela.
There's a place you pay
On these streets
And sometimes it's high
Like the cost  of dope
In order to **** whatever
That not right
Whatever that's deep in you
And cleans out what
Castor Oil only does inside
The body
But baby it sho'nuff
Will that's in the mind
If the demons are there
They'll feel it too.

Welcome to Ghettoland
Where dope runs freely
But for a price you pay
And pay dearly my friend.
Where your life out there
Is win, loose or die!
Chances are
You'll either lose or die
You'll sho'nuff die!

Where the hustlers hustle
By any means
And I mean any MEANS!
This is the place where
Street people call home away
From the home they came from
And street girls slinging pootang
You know
What's between their legs
In order to between the sheet or under a house or
Some alleyway to turn a trick.

Where Baby Mama's look for their
Baby daddy in order to get that
Child support
And support that child they left.

Welcome to Ghettoland----
Where you'll see burned out buildings
Just remaining reminders of
What was then and what is

Welcome to the "New Frontier"
Of an old idea
Welcome to Ghettoland!!!!!!!
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