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.

My smile shrouds the many wounds inflicted upon mine heart

I shall continue to fight the good fight in this

My lifelong struggle to rise above in this profession I thought for many moons to be a lost art.

I am a Father...

You claim
To know his name
Murdered many
In his name
Led the sheep
To the slaughter
In his name
Demanded money
From the poor
In his name
Mask the Truth
Live lavishly
In his name
Preach lies
To control and confuse
In his name
Speak in tongues
And edify only yourself
In his name
Pray one day
You fall to your knees
In his name
You repent for
Giving false testimony
In his name
You realize that all
He wanted was you to trust
In his name
Understand that he wanted
Us to have true faith
In his name
Learn that you should
Have done good works
In his name
Victory was only certain
For those put their hopes
In his name
For oppresing the meek
You will be held accountable
In his name
Today you still spread
Deceitful lies
As you continue to deny
That the church
Is the people
It is you
It is I
Not the stone temple
You have built
To house the wealth
You have amassed
Through these years that have passed
Take heed
For in the
End of days
You will be called
To explain
How one so wicked
Could ever rightfully claim
He was worthy
Of even speaking
His name...

Here I stand
Tall and strong in all my splendor
Where the white sands converge with the warm waters
In a place that affords the kind of bliss most hope to remember

I have witnessed the sunrise
Have stood in awe of the sunset
Some thought they would soon see my demise
During so many trying times I cannot seem to quite forget

On the horizon I saw the coming of many a storm
Braced myself for the worst
Waves come violenty crashing against me with waters so warm
Unwelcome but familiar this storm is not my first

Winds enraged mercilessly battering
I bend
My tall strong frame close to breaking is far from flattering
Yet after the storm passes I still stand as many don't seem to comprehend

My roots run quite deep
Deep into this world I so very love
Here I stand firm awaiting the rise of the sun as I look forward to dancing in the breeze of a night sky as my soul needs not any sleep
For those who were certain that I would finally give in to the storm
I know not what you speak of

I bend
I don't break
I hold on no matter what life my way shall send
I bend
For I have learned stand again no matter what it may take.

The day this world was gifted with your existence
Fortune had passed me by
I was not the first man to hold you
Nor did I hear your first cry

I don't contemplate it much
I would much rather forget
While I struggle to accept that it was out of my control
For it is the one thing I regret

I forget
It was simply not I who greeted you into this life
After he chose to walk away from you
Your mother became my wife

The universe finally noticed me
You were so very little when you first looked me in the eye
I picked you up in my arms and just held you
I promised to be the best father I could be to you until the day I die

Over the years I forget
Because the bond we share is strong
You are my son and I your father
Who will ever dare say that we are wrong

Every milestone in your life is engrained in my heart
I've kissed you good night, tucked you in, and even healed your scars
And now although you have become a quite the responsible young man
I am here for you always and I will never be to far

I forget that I was not there in the very beginning
You will never imagine how much I wish that the privilege of being there was mine to be had
But know forever that I will never walk away from you because you chose to call me DAD....

This journey ever changing
Countless twists and endless turns
So many of us give up the struggle
We still have so much to learn

This life has yet to be easy
Obstacles come and go
Enough tears to form a river of hope
Sweet waters flow through streams we have yet to know

Tired of simply treading water
Chasing dreams that fade away
Reaching out with empty palms
Waiting for my share of that better day

Holding on to those we love
Together we get past the pain
Open up your heart
Shelter someone through their rain

Meet me at the crossroads
Take my hand and walk with me
Better days just off the horizon
A lucid dream of how all could be...

When the sky begins to fade
My eyes find the darkness and
This beating heart halts,
The sound of nothingness takes with it
Everything we never had the chance to say.
Just when I cease to be,
Promise that you won't
Kiss me...

When the cold is upon me,
This pulse that once quickened at the very sound of your voice
Now echoes in a space where you can't follow.
When all I know ceases to be
Just hold my hand-
Don't   kiss me

When we become a memory-
Just when my soul begins that journey
For which none of us prepare,
It would be eternally cruel
To know I had no choice.
Returning to your lips
Is but a hopeful wish.
If you love me,
Understand how that would
**** me,  once more.

Promise that you won't
Kiss me;
I could not bear
The thought of
Never returning
To the tenderness
Of your rose colored
Lips;
Promise.....

It took me quite
a number of years to
unlearn all of the
macho *******
that in my first
20 years of life
made me believe
I fully understood what
it meant to be a man.
To comprehend what
the true essence
of what it truly means
to be a man,
I had to search deep
within me;
it was there that I learned
that in order to be
a good man,
one must first embrace
the beauty of
simply being
Hu  man.

While sitting in a
Creative writing lecture
With chairs organized
Into a circle
My first thought,
I wasn’t supposed to be here with you
Heart starts to race
Temperature slightly elevated
Readying my vein for this poetic fix

Such anticipation
Emotional game of —“duck duck goose”
All eyes on me
As if I were Tupac Shakur and this was 1996

A poem of triumph— perhaps,
An ode to the spirit of Herbert Gans.
Pulling myself up by the bootstraps
Trying to escape the chains of hard luck

Maybe even a poem of choices;
Deciding on one of two roads like Robert Frost
Even if my pen bled of this,
No one would really give a ****.

Is it an absolute that pain sells?
Is human hurt the only thing that moves you?
I still struggle to believe this is the case
In my world,      pain is a place
Pain is that place where,
Dad walks out and never looks back
No one hears your cries
Summer vacations are non-existent
Dinner is a small bowl of plain white rice
A weekly salary at the age of nine

Four years and still no birthday card from Dad…

Mom’s tears run deeper than the Hudson,
Her face enveloped by the smoke of Newport cigarettes;
She was the portrait of a woman scorned.
Her curse,
I look just like him.

High school days full of haze
Escaped reality with Mary Jane.

Thirteen years and still no birthday card from Dad…

My first attempt at college lasted only one lecture.
Success was— shipping out to boot camp
Missing your own child’s first steps
Walking on unfamiliar soil in the name of “peace”
A world away from all you love
Barely making out an “I miss you” over a bad phone connection
Having a needle inserted into your arm while sitting next to an addict
Selling plasma from my blood for twenty-five dollars a visit
Rushing home in a daze with baby formula for a crying child,

Eighteen years and still no birthday card from Dad…

An almost failing marriage
Getting into a car full of rage
Almost giving in and becoming what you most despise
Seeing their smiles, hearing their laughter for maybe the last time
A lonely stairwell that echoed their cries
Searching for ways to always provide
A paycheck big enough to only tread water
Week equivalent to forty hours of work, eighty hours of school
Breaking the promise of a sweet sixteen to a daughter;
In my world pain is a place.

Here I am baring my very soul
Opening my closet,
Some say my courage has seen me through.
I wasn’t supposed to be sitting here with you;

Thirty three years and still no birthday card from Dad —

Pain is a place…

So still
Silky hair come undone
Yet perfect
In my eyes
Gently rest
Silenced rose colored lips
Their last offering
I love you
Sealed with a kiss
Just before we drifted
Perfect in all your imperfections
Wherever this place
To which your dreams
Have whisked you off too
My sincerest hope
That you forever know
You hold my heart
So still
Sleep sweet angel of mine
Quiet this morning
As I with undivided attention
Smile at your beauty
While you
Sleep...

Pardon the gloom and doom
What have we allowed to transpire
Quietly swept by a government issued broom
Backs keep breaking as our feet never leave the fire

Gone is Every cent I earn as I toil and sweat
This is the life of the working poor
In god we trust escapes my grasp the closer to payday I get
Hope just dwindles as we continue on as corporates laboring *****

The Rich get richer
While the poor seek hope at Sunday's mass
There is something afoot that blurs this picture
No more lunch after Sunday Service because I now pay four dollars for every gallon of gas

Everyday I open my eyes and hope that the light peeking in through my Venetian blinds is the light at the end of tunnel
Sheep fighting through traffic as the roads transform into a funnel
So here I sit wondering will I ever have the time and the money to show my children the true beauty of the good ole U.S. of A
Unfortunate however that in order to survive it is all work and no play
Landlord will be by Today

Pardon the doom and the gloom
It has been quite some time since I've heard the bells of freedom ring
I have broken the trance that I had fallen victim to while tuning in  that ******* box in my living room
Maybe just maybe I'll introduce myself to a neighbor this Spring.

You claim
To know his name
Murdered many
In his name
Led the sheep
To the slaughter
In his name
Demanded money
From the poor
In his name
Mask the Truth
Live lavishly
In his name
Preach lies
To control and confuse
In his name
Speak in tongues
And edify only yourself
In his name
Pray one day
You fall to your knees
In his name
You repent for
Giving false testimony
In his name
You realize that all
He wanted was you to trust
In his name
Understand that he wanted
Us to have true faith
In his name
Learn that you should
Have done good works
In his name
Victory was only certain
For those put their hopes
In his name
For oppresing the meek
You will be held accountable
In his name
Today you still spread
Deceitful lies
As you continue to deny
That the church
Is the people
It is you
It is I
Not the stone temple
You have built
To house the wealth
You have amassed
Through these years that have passed
Take heed
For in the
End of days
You will be called
To explain
How one so wicked
Could ever rightfully claim
He was worthy
Of even speaking
His name...

Remarkable how time stands still
Once your lips touch mine
Maybe it has been you
All along I have searched for
Never let go of me
Caress me incessantly my love
In your arms I find a warmth
Never afforded to me by another
Give wings to my dreams of love
And fly with me please do
Not keep from me your kiss
As I have grown to love being
Near you always
Gently held in your embrace
Exactly where I yearn to be
Loving you eternally.

Relentless storms
Awakening despair
Waves of troubles
Overcome the sands
As the shores of
A once content heart
Are simply erased
From the lanscape
Of a place called
Hope

The white dove
Flees
Leaving no trace
Of a brief visit
Hands outstretched
Palms raised
To no avail
New beginnings
Welcomed with such
Measured despair
Hidden behind
A forced smile

Seems life
Finds a way
To divert a
Path full of
False security
Towards one
Of fulfilment
Navigating around
Relentless Storms
Has only keep them
Raging
In the center.

Tree tops like
An ocean of
Gold, brown, and fiery red
Sway silently
Along the countryside
In early Autumn's chill
Leaves begin their descent
Letting go
Free Falling to a
Certain death

Comforted only
By a promise of
Rebirth

Lay silently
Ocean of
Gold, brown, and fiery red
In a brief moment
You will be
Simply a memory
Of another year
Marching undisturbed
Into yesterday.

Hardship greeted me with open arms
Gray monochrome rainbows remain
Blessed in the waters of misfortune
Surely baptised by Saint Someday

Gray monochrome rainbows remain
I've grown so tired of chasing
Surely baptised by Saint Someday
"Almost" stands forever in the way

I've grown so tired of chasing
Blessed in the waters of misfortune
"Almost" stands forever in the way
Hardship greeted me with open arms

Frequently I think
Of your scent
Remembering how sweet
Evenings always ended
Vexed to having lost you
Echoes of your voice
Run rampant in my thoughts

Two doves white as snow meet for the very first time
One takes the lead while the other is close behind
Together they soar through the endless sky
Admiring each other they continued to fly
The very moment in which they flew side by side
They realized that in another life together they died

They once shared a life and walked hand in hand
One of them remembered long walks on the sand
Together they turned and flew towards the shore
Not once did they imagine just what was in store
As they looked down much to their surprise
There was a patch of sand unblemished by the tides rise

Two hearts linked together gently drawn in the sand
During a breath taking sunset shared by a woman and a man
In one mighty breath he yelled to the winds
If you leave my love I'd know not where to begin
Being so flattered she knew not what to say
She remembered they never made it back to shore that day...

Together once again to start a new life
Soaring through blue skies as white doves
A man and his wife...

Gentle winds move
Words spoken, forever carried
Be mindful of what escapes you to have been forged in love
Blissful thoughts move in tandem with these gentle winds

Ill fated speak rises from the darkness of an evil heart
Forged in hate and envy
Baneful suppositions disturb placid winds
Blue skies depart overwhelmed by gray

Cold rain dances uncertain in quivering winds
Storms approach celebrating generous helpings of lament
Thoughts are of miscalculated omnipotence
Be mindful of what escapes you to be forged in love

I am
I am he who
As a child clung
To hope
I am he who
Knew sadness
As he who made me
Walked,     faded

I am he
He who walked through
The doors of
Public schools
To learn or
Better yet
Be force fed
The *******
That this system
Wanted me to ingest
In order to maintain
The status quo;
Another Rican
Up at the crack
Of dawn
Racing off to
Lackawana
Or even
Port Jersey Boulevard
Factory work extraordinaire
That's all they
Wanted me to know

I am
I am he
Who was never
Supposed to know
Anything other
Than the
Dingy white walls
Of a railroad
Apartment
In the brick building
That I grew up in

I am he
Who blazed
A trail of possibilities
So that my
Seed
Could fly higher
Than I

I am
A husband,
A father,
A son,
A brother,
A student
Of life
Who gives every
**** ounce
Of what makes
Me who I am
To those
I love
Only hoping
That long after
I am gone
They will
See
That I conquered
Every obstacle
That I smashed
Every stereotype
Just to prove-
I exist

I am
I am he
Who has laughed and
Has cried
He who has masked
The pain with a smile

I am he
Who keeps an
Open mind
Hoping one day
You will find
My soul
In every line
I have penned
With a tear in my eye

I am he
Who will never
Forget
From where he came;
He who will never
Cease to seek truth
At times I am weak
When I feel like
Letting go
I write and I speak
Because
I Am.......

This image so symbolic
A beacon of freedom to
All those who from afar
Have come to terms with
How beautiful and noble
It would be to
Willingly feel the
Warmth of their
Boiling blood as it spills
And fills the
Streets with a crimson sea

To die while raising a fist
Shouting out against oppression
Standing against injustice
All the while
Dreaming of freedom
Some meet their fate
With a passion in their core
A flame that burns
Into the night
Like lady liberty's torch

While some lay in those
Endless crimson street seas
Others through their sacrifices
Quietly flee under the
Cover of night's
Star spangled skies
With dry lips and tired feet

Their hopes kept warm by
Dreams of that undying flame
North-star of immigrants
Torch of lady liberty
Fuels their will to endure
An age old vision
Drawing them in
To walk the paths of
Purple mountains majesty
Only to end their journey
Listening to a
Symphony of insults

Working forty-eight
Hours a day
Fourteen days a week
A dream deceased
Fear of being cast out
Justifies their willing
Societal disappearance as
They now walk silently
Amongst the invisible

Afraid of even asking
For a helping hand
Illnesses of those
Young and old alike
Go untreated as
Acceptance of inhumanity
Becomes a singular reality
So now what of that torch
They ask themselves

Today its flame seems
A mere spark in comparison to
The wildfire burning within
The citizens, the bureaucrats, and
The politicians whom
So conveniently forgot
They too come from
A long line of immigrants
Who arrived here with the
Very same hopes and dreams
Yet they are only spoken of
When wolves in suits
Put on their brightest of smiles and
With false promises
Of immigration reform
Gather that much needed
Latino vote
Which strengthens their campaigns
Earning them a position
Of privilege as
They sit behind
Solid cherry oak desks
Leaving the immigrant
On a never ending campaign
Of tending to the fields
Laying tile, repairing roofs,
Landscaping the lawn to the
Buildings full of offices whom
Provide those very
Goods and services
That will never
Be of any benefit
To the invisible families

Their  souls run out of time
Overworked and underpaid
Marginalized and demoralized
They die silently

Silently they wither away
Looking beyond the pasture
Still believing the flame of
Lady liberty's torch
Would remember them
As it did others who
Dared risk it all
For a dream.......