#folks
Aye I fell from the stars
When I touched ground, it broke me
My folks gathered the pieces they can
It took me a while to piece it together
Then I went looking for the missing pieces,
In places so alien & people so insane.
I was reduced to ashes in the process
My friends gathered a handful of those ashes
And gave me courage
To rise up like a Phoenix.
Jul 20, 2020
Jul 20, 2020 at 10:22 AM UTC
Your calmness thrills,
Your quitness provokes,
Like you are breaking the hills,
And inspiring the whole folks.
Strong and honest is your emotion,
Cause you are deep as ocean.
Your beautiful soul has no end,
All around the world it's sent.
The world wants your presence,
To be here now in present.
Strong and honest is your emotion,
Cause you are deep as ocean.
Oh mountains, look at this mistery,
Woods, come closer and listen.
There is a lovely human being,
Who wants love to be given.
Giant restless is your leap,
Cause you are the ocean deep.
People are your sweet little chest,
Where you wanna explore their best;
Where you look deep inside to the end,
You're happily surprised what's in there.
A soul is what you really want to see,
Full of colored precious to reveal.
May 17, 2020
May 17, 2020 at 10:38 AM UTC
this is a very important poem to me,
about me, and how Obama slurred my people. and never apologized
<•>
there are mornings when I wake up
in my nativity,
in my born/bred,
these struggling to be happy,
United States,
strangely hebrew-speaking,
Jamaican coffee
morning-thinking,
tallying up
what I am,
who I am,
commanded to be,
on this Earth
the labels that the
outward-looking apply,
the tags,
that you have caused
yourself to be defined,
been staked
to your claim,
in infamy and in fame,
that you have
by action and indeed,
have allow
to be presented
as entries on your
global entry passport,
with visas from the
lows and highs,
places where
your have sinned and saved,
all the acts accumulated,
and those,
in pain,
you have been a witness to
word titles that
tinge and suffuse,
summation of my presentation,
sampler of words
like
father, poet,
American,
even,
a for-real
community organizer,
and of course,
bien sûr,
a
Jew
the quality of all these life's papers,
which I grade myself,
I,
the harshest marker
of all
once a young man,
safely away in college,
under the fresh-air freedom of the
university's in loco parentis,
in the early years
spent quantifying oneself
nearly fifty years ago,
now he,
revealed and recalled
when
his college typed-letter,
lately uncovered amidst his,
recently passed mother's papers
"Don't know what kind of
Jew
I will be, but be assured,
that I will be a
Jew
all my life"
so here I am doing my post-sabbath,
top of the week,
right it down,
qualifying myself,
coffee enraged engaged,
a new Sunday tally
taking all my terms,
reordering,
re-prior-itizing,
what was prior, first,
is no longer
decades decay,
events sway,
simple words change me, stain me
nearing on five decades later,
when this
son of speakers,
son of humanists and
son of
writers,
son of proud
Jews
rewrites his list
today I write/substitute,
a new order,
a tag gladly taken,
a marker given,
some what in pride,
some in shame too,
first and foremost,
à la manière d'Lincoln
I am
of, by and for
"a bunch of folks in a deli"
proud member of them
that so identify,
for they are among those
that shall not perish from the Earth
those
happenstance-not,
bunch of folks in a deli,
I claim as
mine own,
as they would
have claimed me
no subtly professed,
a diminishment intended,
and now
an honorific taken,
Medal of Honor provoked and embraced,
proudly inscribed,
visible on my forehead,
in the black ink of mourning,
a Presidential Cain Citation,
a tattoo of letters,
not numbers,
now moves up to
head of the list,
I am
now and forever,
a member of that corps
(appreciate that double entendre)
I am
Je suis
JE JUIF
"a bunch of folks in a deli"
Feb 15, 2015
Feb 15, 2015 at 8:45 AM UTC
This is a time
When a man
Needs to eat a full chicken
And flesh he can’t afford
Let him go for an egg
That is a full chicken
From a life chicken
Poor innocent man
Just saved a chicken from the knife
Man with his muscular knife and fork
is such a
BACKSTABBER FOLKS
Jun 13, 2018
Jun 13, 2018 at 9:52 PM UTC
I wondered I was one
I always gaze through mind
With great story of time
Eyesore of folks makes me weak
But flint of culture
Make me seek
I was a fledgling
Who just learn to flame
The fire of traditions
I learnt from folks ;
Nothing can fulfill human needs
But calmness is something
That you should meet
Jan 12, 2018
Jan 12, 2018 at 12:51 AM UTC
I'm tired and your tired too
Coming to see me now and then. When
You have the time
Your tired and I don't blame you
I can't explain this type of tiredness
It's not a seasonal thing. It doesn't come
When the season comes
It doesn't disappear when the season
Is over. It kind of lingers
This tiredness permeats into the body
Sort of alien ever so slowly overwhelmed
Me and I'm powerless against the body
Snatchers
The mind is tired the eyes are tired. The
Limbs are tired too
Wearing the same old clothes and the same
Old shoes
Not that she can't effort to buy me new
Clothes. Right now I don't need to
I'm tired and your tired too
The same old folks friends the same old
Faces greeted me the same breakfast
Welcome me every morning and I'll be
Glad she comes and bring along her kids
To see their granddad
I can sit in the living room and watched TV
I can sit at the window watching the grass grow
I can hear the birds singing the **** crow
I can hear the wind blow
I can't wait for you to show up
I know you're busy I don't want to interrupt
I'm tired and your tired too
And l longed to go back home. But I'll be
Alone all the time. I don't want to bother
You now I know you're busy. I know
Your tired and I'm tired too
Nov 16, 2017
Nov 16, 2017 at 12:48 PM UTC
She had a fading tattoo
on her thigh
which caught my eye.
Winnie asked me
to help her
bath Florence
as she was alone
and I wasn't busy.
You don't mind
if Benny helps me
bath you
do you Florence?
Winnie said.
Me?
no make my day
for a young feller
to see my tattoo again
first time
in many years
I can tell you
Florence said.
Used to be
a dancer
back in
the early days
danced on stage
up in London
and sometimes
when we toured
we went all
over the place.
Once Winnie
had helped
Florence undress
I saw the tattoo clearer
it was in blue and pink
and was of a dancer
doing the can-can.
Is that what
you did Florence
the can-can?
Winnie said.
Yes that
and other dancing too
did more than
dancing too
other times
she laughed.
I smiled.
She had her
grey hair long now
as Winnie
had unpinned
the hair to wash it.
Had a young feller
who wanted
to marry me
but he got himself
killed at Mons
and that was that.
Another one came
back blinded
and although
I could have
married him
I wasn't keen
on marrying
a blind bloke
you know what
with me dancing
and touring
and having to
help him
I couldn't do it.
I think he married
some other girl.
Florence went quiet
had my chances
but never did marry.
Bet you were a looker
when you were young
Winnie said.
Got a photo
in my drawer
when I was a dancer
one of those sepia jobs
faded a bit like me
but you can see me
as I was then.
We eased Florence
down in the bath.
I wondered how many
other men had seen her
like I did
but didn't ask or say.
Once in the bath
Winnie did her back
and Florence talked on
all about once upon.
Jul 5, 2017
Jul 5, 2017 at 3:59 AM UTC
Come watch me play
The little girl would say
But they would never take the time
Now she’s grown and she’s all mine
I turned her like a ******
I bathe her when she’s funky
She’s ***** sweet and greasy
She tastes a little ******
I can not lie about
The pleasure I receive
Pulling your leg
With this tongue in my cheek...
May 15, 2013
May 15, 2013 at 8:48 PM UTC
Elder cocoons
Crysalis Hospice
Heaves pounding war drums
Fables of eternal bridge
Bingo and television
zombie horde lunch hour
Tennis ***** play race car
down halls tarred with lost children
Abandoned wither liver spot wrists
Silk wrinkles
Pull like neck folds lifted
newborn simba kittens
casted into this kingdom
scientists culture control
climate but not the yellow wall
It's too high for a fit cyborg
intravenous barbed wire
Cathader Penetrating
illusions of escapism
except the prison wealthy
classically conditioned
trading ice cream like cigarettes
trading blood diseases like ramen packets
There is no planned parenthood
in old folks homes
There is no distribution of free condoms
In a facility where they without medication
When you're about to win the lottery
His last day requested to bed Nurse Christine
Wheelchair ridden fumbling to open
A shaker of Mrs. DASH
I reach to help him open the spice.
Growling and Sadistic he festered:
"Let the little boy do what he can do."
I sat down in my chair.
he had his nurse ala mode.
no one will fund a ****** dispensary for old folks home.
they wouldn't use them.
Apr 6, 2017
Apr 6, 2017 at 7:20 PM UTC
I was in
Mr Atkins' room
just finishing
the bed making,
when Sophia came
in behind me
and closed the door
behind her.
I turned
to face her.
What are you
doing here?
I said.
Wanted to see you
about the parents,
she said,
looking at me.
What about them?
I said.
They not happy
about you
being there.
They invited me,
I said.
I know but they
are old fashioned,
and like
the old ways,
and they
are not sure
about you,
she said.
I shouldn't go
to your place
anymore?
I said,
feeling relieved.
Best not to;
I tell them we
have parted,
she said.
Will they
believe that?
I said.
If you not there
and I am alone,
then they will
think that,
she said.
So no more
interrogations
then by your father,
I said.
She smiled,
no more
interrogations
as you call them,
she said.
I smiled
and said:
so what
now then?
We see each other
away from home,
she said,
*** there too
dangerous anyway,
she said,
her Polish accent
discernible.
I recalled us
having ***
in her bed
that time
and always
listening out
in case her parents
returned too soon.
Ok,
I said,
feeling happy
in some way,
but uncertain
in another.
We could
have *** here,
she said,
pointing to
Mr Atkins' bed.
Not here,
what if
the old boy
comes up here
and sees
us at it,?
no too risky,
I said.
Where then
we have ***
She said.
I gazed at her.
She was serious.
She wanted
*** at work
in one of
the old boys' beds.
Mr Cutts' room empty,
she said,
he die last week,
bed empty.
We couldn't,
I said.
We could,
she said,
no one come,
we will be alone.
I thought of it
and the freshly
made bed
and the room
cleaned
by Sophia
the other day.
Too risky,
what if someone
hears us,
I said.
We be quiet,
she said.
You be quiet?
You're like
a piglet
being slaughtered,
I said.
She smiled.
We can be quiet
if we want to,
she said.
She unbuttoned
her blue
overall top
and said:
it do us good,
get rid of tensions.
I recalled the ***
in her
parents' room
that one time,
like it was
the biggest
of expeditions,
the biggest crime.
Sep 8, 2016
Sep 8, 2016 at 2:15 AM UTC
I had the intention
of just calling it quits
giving up on this life of mine
that's shredded to bits
but oh my, I stopped in
here at this HP site
and met a few folks
who helped set things right
--they listened and gave
a few kind words to me
and suddenly I realized
I could set myself free,
that I could stop wallowing
in the dread and the fear
of what my ex had so long
forced me to hear--
Now--
I've blocked out his cruel words
he threw out at me
and instead replaced them
with words from Hello Poetry!
Since coming here
and finding this place,
I'm slowly learning
that this smile on my face
belongs there now
and it matches the one in my heart!
So
thank you, dear friends here
for helping me start
to appreciate the opportunities
I can now explore
and thank you so much
for opening that new door
of hope and possibilities
that are surely waiting for me--
I'll do my best to stay unbound,
to stay forever free!
Jul 4, 2015
Jul 4, 2015 at 12:23 AM UTC