If I so happen to-
Be blessed to open my eyes on
A Christmas morning
I, shall walk outside and
Breath the cool air of a
Crisp December morning and
Simply listen to what
Joy sounds like.

Happiness is hearing the
Laughter of my children as they
Frantically tear through
Wrapping paper; opening
Gift after gift as Mom and I
Start setting the table for a
Hearty Christmas breakfast.
The robust scent of hot cocoa
Fills the air.

As I smile,    
My mind becomes
Preoccupied with a singular but
Powerful thought…
A momentary reflection about
Those who Christmas missed;
Those brothers and sisters who hope
That somewhere in the community
Someone has remembered that
They dream of a warm place where
The robust scent of
Hot cocoa may fill the air.
They dream of
A place where they may be
Thought of enough on this morning
To be gifted with a simple meal
Served with a smile and
A kind heart.

I think of those who
Who will have to look their
Little ones in the eyes
And watch that innocent sparkle fade as
They divulge to them that
Santa won’t be visiting this year,
Trying to reconcile that sadness
By explaining that the real meaning of Christmas
Is being with those you love yet,
They are too young to understand.
These are those beautiful souls who
Christmas missed.

Remembering those occasions on which
I have looked at my children’s curious faces
Explaining that Santa would be a tad late;
That perhaps Santa got the address confused or that
I didn’t put their “Dear Santa” letters
In the mail in time.
I remember that burning sensation
That overwhelms the heart when
You already know that you and yours
Will be missed by Christmas.
I have lived those moments
One too many times.

Because of this,
I will sit with my loved ones and
We will hold hands---
Pray that the kindness of Christmas
Continues to give birth to
Those miracles that
Sweep through the hearts of
Men, women, and children alike
So that, we may forever remember that
The spirit of Christmas should remain
With us every day of the year so that-

We may all commit
An act of kindness
The 364 times a year that is needed so that
Not a single
Man, woman, or child
Will be one of
Those who Christmas missed…..

Solidarity transcends language
We need not speak French
On the other side of the world
We wept with you,
Our hearts were overcome with rage
Confusion laid its roots
It once consumed our minds
We pressed on, moved forward

We need not speak French
For God's ear knows only the song of his children
Our prayers reach the same heavens
Tonight the world stands with you
Paris, France land of love, passion, and progress
Let not the light of those now gone ever be enveloped by darkness

Live on Paris, live as they lived- Free
Honor their memory by walking
towards tomorrow unafraid
Be confident in that karma does not rest until its cosmic duty is fulfilled
We need not speak French
To communicate to you
Our hearts are with you
In this somber hour
In one voice, we pray
For you-   Paris....

To you,
Substitute-
A mere copy,
Nothing more than a
Last minute stand in.
I am addressing
You and only you
Mr Substitute.

You who maliciously
Attempted to make my
Son feel less than;
You who with your
Contrived agenda
Sought to edify
Your unequivocal ignorance
Thinking that the
Young Puerto Rican boy was
Likely another statiscal
Data point representing
Yet another victim of a
Fatherless phenomenon yet,
There we were-
That Puerto Rican boy's
Mother and Father
At the school house,
Bright and early
To shine a light and
Expose your uneducated and
Ill informed ***.

May we
You and I
Discuss politics on an
Even playing field
Mr. Substitute,
While in your little world
You fumble over
Your phone
Pressing 1 for English or
2 for Spanish,

Let me translate

Let me educate
You substitute
So that next time
You decide to
run your mouth,
Consider keeping mute.

Before you choose
To marginalize
An entire race
Let's have a face to face

Mr. Substitute
My son comes from
Those very people
You express such
Disdain for
Those people who
Have bled and died
For this country since
The first World War

Perhaps that historical fact
Escapes you
While you make no effort to
Teach the truth
You can't hide the fact that
They also bled and died
In the name of freedom in
World War Two

Korea
Vietnam and Panama
Iraq and Afghanistan
Serving, bleeding, and dying
Just hoping to secure
Their place
Amongst society
So that you can

Let loose your vile tongue.
Instead of teaching
The value of equality
And sparking a sense of
Hope in the young,
Understand though
Mr. Substitute
Both karma and I are
Far from done.

I chose to exercise civility
In my quest to
Teach you a lesson
In humility
A lesson in diversity

Oh how I wish
that were me
Looking back at you
In that classroom
Mr. Substitute.
Fortunately,
The blood that runs
Through my fiery veins
Runs through my sons.

Under no circumstance
Will he accept the
***** matter that
Effortlessly flows
Through your
Venemous lips.

Unlike you
Mr. Substitute
We are accepting of others
Even if you yourself are
Nothing short of
A misguided
Intolerant bigot,

My son and I
Refuse to
Stand idly by
Without exposing
You as the
Village idiot.....

Mr. Substitute

A poet is courageous
The voice of truth
Pulling away the veil
Helping those who listen
Realize that the lies
Like two left sided shoes
Will make it easy
To walk in circles
A poet is courageous;
A poet is courageous
When he or she speaks to
Their own personal journey
You see-
I could spew angry indifference as
Newspaper headlines and
Main stream media
Incite hopelessness and despair
So, unless you have walked
Alongside tuberculosis ridden
children of Haiti and
Held on to a tiny little hand
That grew tired of
Holding on to hope
As they fade into yesterday..
Speak your truth!
Until you know the sound
Of mortar or artillery fire
When it rains down upon
A village and
Topple its houses like
A deck of cards;
The sound of bricks
Turning to rubble
As lives crumble
Hope lost in the
Particles of dust that
Linger within the smoke that
Dances amongst the
Deafening silence of
The innocent.
Speak your truth!
Speak of that which
Has tested your resolve
That which when revisited
Takes you to that place where
Love picked up the broken pieces
That once made up your life,
That place where-
Hurt tore through every
Fiber of your being as you
Drowned in your tears
Speak of that place where.
Hope finally gave you
The strength to
Write through the pain or
Pic up a mic and
Watch everyone hang on to
Your every word as
You feel that lump in
Your throat makes
Your voice crack
And your palms sweat because,
The reciting of a poem has
Become a recounting of
Of a story that
Is life
Your life
Out on display.
A poet is courageous
The voice of truth
Show us that
Taking off the veil
Allowed you to see
Our two left sided shoes
So then maybe Poet
Just maybe,
We may all-
Stop walking in circles......

Water ran from my rooftop
Came to a complete stop
Frozen; I see icicles
In my window
With a premeditated
Motion I,
Quickly clenched my fist
With measured rage I
Struck your beautiful craft
Of you I am simply...

Sick children with
The sniffles, bundled up
Asking for the whereabouts
Of spring,
They too are just
Tired of this....

Schitzu from across
The street sits behind
A window; wondering
Where the grass
Has gone, memories
Of frolicking along
Long gone
Dear Winter,
If only I could
I would gladly kick your...

Asinine to believe
Even just rather briefly
That the momentary
Beauty of your
Pure white snow
Would keep me in
A suspended state of
Awe and admiration;
Earnestly speaking
I would be most pleased
If you could-
Pack up all of these
Mounds of ice and snow
And quietly go straight to...

Hellaciously hoping you
Forget your way back
Next year,
Dear Winter.

Solice my companion
In this existence
Life abundant in
Extremely difficult moments that
Never will I share as no one
Cares to quite simply allow me to
Elaborate on what ails my soul.

My morning is filled with despair
Newspaper darkens my mood
Smell of fresh coffee will soon fill the air
Once it is done being brewed

World peace has come undone
As many wars rage on
Countless mothers today mourn a daughter or a son
I can't help but wonder why all seems to be wrong

In the distance
A faint little song

What a sweet melody I have heard
In an instant my morning seems bright
It appears my kitchen window is the birthplace of an adorable little bird
Who was announcing its very first flight

My worries were instantly gone
As I stood quietly by this window so narrow
I felt an inexplicable sense of calm
With frantic little wings Anxious to soar through the winds
Off went this beautiful sparrow.