chapter three


June 4th. 1980;


The day, it’s the morning of June 4th.  It’s Wednesday; I go up the block to be with Kelli; her friend Lynne is a sleepover guest, this day. I and Lynne have never got along but if I want to be with Kelli than I’ll have to hang with Lynne for the day. We’re watching “The Price is Right” on television and Lynne went inside for a while. After a time she comes in laughing!?
“I was just on the phone with Barbra B. and she’s off and running…  Let’s go down by her house and see what’s there to watch!?”  Kelli and Lynne get into the front-seats of Kelli’s White Buick Electra 225
I was in the backseat; the two of them were laughing up a storm! Kelli drives up Calamus ave. until she nears 74th. Street; this is where Barbra B. lives. Barbra is frilling a most extremely large kitchen-knife; it must be the biggest knife in her house?! Here she comes with her father chasing up behind her?  He’s trying to catch-up and stop this girl from getting to whatever place she is so hard-pressed to get too???
Lynne slaps onto the side of the door, Kelli slows and Lynne rolls down the window then sticks-out half her body; she waves over to Barbra B. and screams, “Hey Barbra, what’s going on?”
Kelli says, “What are you doing?”
“Where’re you going? You need a lift? Come on there’s plenty of room in the back!”  The door-locks pop open… “Come-on we’ll take you where-ever you’re going!”
Barbra heads towards the car; Kelli, grips the wheel, laughing; I know this laugh… Kelli has no idea what’s going on?! Barbra takes hold of the door as her father reaches her; he grabs her arm and pulls her hand away; Barbra’s father yells to Kelli, “Get out of here; Leave!”
Kelli steps on the gas and drives off!
Heart’s racing… ‘Holy crap, that crazy ***** had her hand on the door? She was about to be inside this car, she had a knife; she, she, she be sitting next to me?! What the hell just happened???’
Kelli drives back towards the house; the two of them seating in the front seat… laughing?! Not the same laugh but…, laughing! Lynne’s, an all too familiar sort; it’s a kind I heard in the silent-times unspoken about; a delight to a well done of what just happened.
Kelli’s, her laugh is also all too familiar, hers, is the kind that reassures. It’s the kind I’d feel deep inside me at three in the morning while swinging, inside Little Bush Park, on those swings beneath moonlight knowing, oddly enough, I’m safer there at that moment than I’d be anywhere-else.
Kelli parks up on the corner, on the side of Tootie’s house; she runs across to store for soda, cigarettes and stuff then we went upstairs.
“What the hell was that…?” Kelli says, laughing, while she slaps the bag onto the table; bag brakes open and as liverwurst, cheese, bottle of soda and the cigarettes flies off to all parts of the kitchen!? “What did you do? That was f----- up!?” Kelli starts to fix us lunch as Lynne tells us about what she was doing in the kitchen while we were watching The Price Is Right.                    
  
Lynne calls up Barbra’s gay-lover and tells her she’s Barbra’s (formerly) ex-girlfriend and that she’s calling to let her know Barbra and she are back together so she’ll no longer be needed or wanted in their lives!  
Afterwards, Lynne calls Barbra’s saying to Barbra, she’s Barbra’s ex-girlfriend’s newest lover and she’s calling to inform her,Barbra, that Barbra’s ex and this girl’s new lover are bopping the sheets with each-other and the two of them are being played as fools; as one could imagine and as we saw for ourselves, Barbra went into a high-speed tailspin. Barbra snaps?!  And now she is out there trying to go end these two women in a pool of their own blood!?  
Unbelievably, Lynne still thinks what she made happen is a big fat hoot???
Kelli, “What the hell were you thinking???”
Lynne looks at Kelli, and with this snide tone and smirk on her face she says,” What… I was bored! Did you see Barb’s father’s face?” laughter erupting from her as she turns to get her stuff out of Kelli’s bedroom; “Hey it was fun!”
Kelli,” Oh brother; you’re…? Hey, get ready and I’ll drive you… home.”
Kelli looks at me and we both put hands up with baffled looks?!          
It’s just around 3 pm. as Kelli rolls up to Lynne’s to drop her off. She asks Kelli to drop her down at the bar she hangs-at so she could find-out what’s been going on there.
Kelli did and on the way back she stops by Julia’s, her mom’s, work; Julia gives us a list and we go over to key-food to shop.
While we’re shopping Kelli keeps, “I can’t get over what we saw???”
I kept thinking how did Lynne know so much of Barbra’s love-life??? She knew names, places and everything she’d need to get that girl Barbra to to such a point and state?’ I think Kelli and I were both shaking from this for the rest of the day.
  Kelli drops me off, goes parks and goes into house.
I remember this date so well because later that night at around 2:30 in the morning I was at my father’s door knocking?!

” Dad? Dad? Dad; you need to get… You have to get-up!?”
My water broke??? My due date’s not ‘til September 18th. I first thought, ‘Oh no not again?! This can’t happening; … not again?! But, there was no pain, no blood, and no sense of dread like the other times?
I went into my room and grab onto my bag and what-ever-else I thought to take; I figured, by this time my dad would be ready to bring me up to the Boulevard and we’ll cab it to St. John’s. He wasn’t in the middle-room; he wasn’t in the kitchen I knocked on the bathroom door and… He’s not in there? Maybe he went up to call a cab to pick me up at the door?? I’d think he would… He’d have said something…,  like when you have what you need I’ll be downstairs I’m going up to get a cab??? The hall-door’s closed?!’
“Holy crap?!”
No, no, no, I go back to my Dad’s bedroom door and knock. “Dad…? “
“What?” My eyes nearly pop out of my head!
I try to open the door but as usual the lock is on? “Dad?! My water broke???” As one could imagine my voice is no-longer an indoor voice?!  “Never mind broke it’s like the dam broke here and there’s water everywhere out here! Come on you have to get up… you need to take me to St. John’s?!”  
Pin-drop silence…?
“Dad?”
This low soft moaning whimper comes from behind that locked door, “Can it wait until the morning?”
  ??? Bang! Needless to say dad needs a new door-lock.
“Nelson…; Get up!”
“Ok.” Slowly he gets to his feet. “I don’t know why…, now? Why can’t you wait ‘til morning?”
“No, now.” In my head,’ Maintain: Four six-packs… I’m lucky I’m going alone?!’
“I need coffee? What the hell is all this water on the floor?”  
   “Dad? Dad; … that would be me?! It’s why you’re up?  We need to go… St. John’s?! Let’s go!”
Ever notice how when you need… there’s never one to be found??? Phone-booth! Lindy’s cab come and picks us up; not one yellow-cab? We get there and they check me out.
The doctor, “You have had what’s called a premature rupture of membranes; you’re being admitted so you can continue to be monitored. Your baby’s vitals but…; we want you to understand the baby’s condition is at high-risk it’s holding its own.”
“Doctor…?” My eyes begin to whelm-up…
“Miss Rose…” The doctor places his hand on my arm, “You need to remain claim; I have the nurse come give you something and I’ll come check on you when they put you in a room; for now remember the vitals are good.”
“Thank you.”
“Ok; your father’s outside, I have him brought in to you.”  
I told him I’d have to stay and he should go home.
“You have money for a cab?”
“My bag is under there, Dad.”
You know, it’s strange; he has no problem asking me to give him money so he could get home!? He doesn’t know where I get money… But, he couldn’t care less?! And, I doubt very much even if he knew it would bother him; hem, he’s lived off her all these years…, knowing that I’ve been signing Elaine’s name and cashing her checks from the checkbook I took and packed in my bag the day I left that place in Brooklyn would faze him?! Well maybe if he was aware I only cashing $50. to $100. At a time out of an account which has $33,000. In it would?! I stopped writing checks after I bought everything I needed for a baby until a baby is one month old; after $1700. I didn’t take anymore. Till the day my mother died neither she or I ever said a word about that checkbook. And, I know she knew… every time a check was cashed.  When I cashed them at Manufacture Handovers Bank would confirm with a call before any check cashing; they did it since my brother, Kevin, cashed out a $12,000 check and left town! A signature that was in no way like my mother’s! The bank made a deal to replace half?! I’m sure she could have had ever last penny back but the bank would have had police-case opened and a warrant out for Kevin and she never did turned her back on that boy?! That check wasn’t even, close-to, the worst thing that boy had done. The day he died I smiled, enough said.  Well, I think she thought I would have felt bad and come home and I’d do what she wanted me to do that day.

The sun’s coming up… They just put me here in this room, room 410; I hear the Doctor down the hall. I hope he has good things to tell me!? I pull the drape to see him when he comes in the door; a circle of people are out there with charts. They’re coming in…,”Miss Rose, these are the team who will be watching over you.” Doctor was saying their names but I wasn’t hearing him; all I want was for him to tell me the baby’s going to be alright. “Miss Rose I spoke to your GYN and he informed me you were already aware of this being a high-risk pregnancy?
“Yes.”
“The chart says you been pregnant before?”
“Yes; never over five months.”
‘Well, you do have that in your favor; although, there’s still no… Miss Rose? What wrong?”
“There’s… No…”
“Listen!” he places his hand on my arm. ”Understand what I’m saying; we’re monitoring the vitals and you and your baby are, for right now, fine. The longer that baby stay in there the better be the chances of survival. Do you understand this?”
“Yeah”
“Good; in order for this to be we will need to keep you in the most sterile environment possible. Do you understand what this means? I can see you’re not; Miss Rose you’re going to have to stay in the hospital until the baby is born. And you’ll need to be on complete bed-rest so we can continue to monitor the baby. This means no wondering the halls this is a private room and you have a bathroom all to yourself no getting out of bed just to walk around, no unnecessary movement you need to stay pregnant for as long as you can. Now, you understand what I’m telling you?”
Crap! I look at this doctor like he just grew three more heads??? “You want me stay here, and to sport this bed? Until, September 18th?”
“No… Miss Rose September 18th Is full-term an ideal time for the baby; we already know that won’t happen that date’s gone and is impossible now. But the idea is to now get you as close as we can to that date. Let’s just take this a day at a time. I come and check in on you later. Remember, no getting up except if you need to use the bathroom. Ok?”
The bathroom only; got it!”  
The doctor leaves my room… Its Thursday morning 7:12 am. June 5th. 1980
Mind this point, it’s still 1980?! You can smoke inside a hospital; and, if you’re in a private room without Oxygen Tanks in use.
The date and time of baby’s birth is...; Friday, morning, on June 6th. 3:54 am.
They took him right away from the delivery room I only saw him from the mirror up in the corner of the room; you know the kind where things are closer than they look type’s… they put me back into my room. It’s 7 am. I know, I have had a baby boy but I haven’t met him? Three hours not one word; not one word to me by anyone here?! Did something happen? Again.
It is 7:10am. Door, to my room, opens… The doctor steps in… “Miss Rose?” he walks to the side of my bed. “Has anyone been in to talk to you?”
“…no.”
“We need to talk to you about what is next for your son…”
“My, son…” I thought sure… he was going to say???
Yes, they are ordering transport for him, now; our hospital isn’t equipped to care for his needs we need to rush him to another hospital that can give him the best chances to survive this early most… we’ll do best we can. They’ll bring him in a moment I know you hadn’t had a chance to hold him.”
As he said this four people enter the room and my baby, my baby.
The nurse walks around to the left of my bed and hands me this itty biddy blanket holding this little face.  I look at him and thought ‘His skin he’s so purple; his face… he looks just as she did. But he’s here. ” Hello Joseph! I’m your mommy. I’m grateful you’re here. “
Big hands; the nurse who handed my baby to me to hold is now on my right-side to take him away from me.
They rush my tiny boy out to the neonatal ambulance He’ll be at Long Island Jewish Hospital when I leave here on Monday.

Yes you did read the title correctly, a little kitten that couldn't meow and this is her story:

Cotton lived on a farm and she was having a baby,
but where cats have a litter [a lot of kittens]
For her she was seen by the vet and told she had only
                       one single baby,
this was cottons happiest moment.

The day came and all the animals were ready to
see a new addition brought in to there little piece
of heaven. And with the vet there to help little
cottons baby in to the world, the animals heard
the voice of the vet say its a baby girl.

With happiness all the animals gathered in celebration,
but unbeknown to them cotton was learning smudge
[yes smudge] she was a kaleidoscope of colour.
Her first words which was meant to be MEOW.
but the words were drowned out in the  celebration,
so many noises, that hers was missed out.

A few animals stayed after the celebrations to
see the new born, including Betty the cow,
Frankie the dog and Barbra the sheep.
Cotton was a little worried that Smudge hadn't
spoken her first word so she spoke to her.

"My little miracle,
"Speak to mamma, I need to hear your words.

Smudge looked in confusion but uttered what she
thought was the word her mummy needed to hear.

"Mummy, I will speak my voice,

And with that she took a breath in, and released it on
to her mothers ears.

"Meaoooooooooo,

The cow looked as its jaw dropped, "Mooooo, the other
cow said that's an udder statement.

Cotton looked and was taken aback by her daughters new words,
that wasn't expected and laughed.

"Mummy my voice why does it not sound like yours,
                
"Don't worry my child mummy will help you find it again,

Once again the little one listened to its mummy purr, then
with a deep breath she let out a beautiful "Meow,
it was like music to the daughters ears.

"Mummy that was beautiful, I want to sound like you,

A tear fell from her mothers eye,

"You will my darling smudge, let us give it another try,

So with nervous looks all around, smudge took a breath in
a with mighty exhale she gave out a "Mea-woof woof,
Frankie the dog just looked on in amazement.....

"That was howling amazing, I mean bark, bark..

As the vet entered the barn, surprised to see the animals all
watching this little one yawn, then slumber to sleep.
"How's mummy,
As she stroked Cottons fur she purred with delight at the
fuss that was being pampered to her.

Then as the vet left in her van, all the animals were staring
through the window to see if it was OK to talk.
All slept until the morning and as all awoke, noises were
heard first was Betty the cow "mooning, then Frankie the
dog, "I feel woof, I think I slept wrong, Barbra the sheep awoke
coughing, she said I think I have a frog in my throat.

Barbra coughed again, and out popped a frog "Ribbit,
"Sorry madam it was so warm in there,
Everyone was giggling as well as Betty.

"Now that I have cleared my throat,

Cotton smiled and gently ushered her daughter awake,
"Morning smudge,

She yawned and smiled at her mummy, rubbing her eyes
looking around to see her mummies friends eagerly waiting
to hear that needed voice to reappear..

"Mummy I was counting sheep when I went off to sleep,
Barbra smiled as her herd used the barn as a short cut to the field.

"Glad we could help Cotton,

Cotton yawned and a purr and meow came forth, a little tear
was in Smudges eye. Her mother saw and pawed it away,
Don't worry my little one once we find it you'll be using it
everyday. She smiled and jumped up and down on her tiny
paws, lapping up her milk she licked her whiskers and
looked at her mummy and said I think I can do it.

Looking proud she let out a what she hoped was her true
voice and with that she said let put in her cutest little voice

"meow, meow, meow,

Her mummy looked on proud as any mother could be,
everyone cheered that this little smudge had spoken
her true voice. "mummy, mummy was that me?

Barbra gave a sigh of relief as smudge didn't release
a Ba, Ba meow, she thought "I would have looked
rather sheepish if she had giggling she looked on.

Smudge was jumping up and down and happy as
anyone finding there voice could be. Cotton spoke
and said words of wisdom to her little one.

"If at first you don't succeed, always try again,

"And you did and now your true voice has been set free,

The farm was so happy that the new addition had now
found what was lost, and all that was heard was a very
proud kitten singing to the top of her voice.

*"Meow, "Meow, Meow,

Oh, my god! Barbra is in town.
My family bought me tickets
And it knocked me on the ground.
I laughed and cried, my eyes went wide
I called my friends, and again I cried.
I’ve tried for years, but never had the dough
This time the dream came true, I get to go.

I know I’m acting like a kid, I don’t care
She’s coming here and I will be there.
I’ll buy a shirt and a program if they sell
I have money saved, so what the hell?
I’m going to be sitting in the same place
With her and that famous voice and face.
It’s not like she’ll be singing just to me,
But that won’t shut me up, just wait and see.

Barbra is coming to town!
No, I’m not messing around
Trust me when I say, it’s true.
She’s coming to sing to you
But, to me too, I can’t believe it!
And I can’t wait to sit and see it.

I know I’ll scream and holler like a loon
The moment she walks out, and it’s soon,
I won’t swoon, but I’ll probably cry again.
I’m sure there will be many other men
Who also find themselves tearing up too.
At her concerts, it’s a thing some of us do.
Unashamed, in front of everybody
We, laugh and clap our hands ******.
Laughing and hugging all around
Because Barbra Streisand is in town!

So, just pretend it’s a championship game
And all of us fans got dressed up and came
To root and holler for our favorite team
But well be applauding the ruling queen,
The star of stage and screen, and pop.
She’s the best and we’ll never stop.
For some of us, it’s a lifelong dream,
We don’t care how silly we may seem.
I doesn’t matter how old we all are
For decades she’s been the greatest star.

Barbra is coming to town!
No, I’m not messing around
Trust me when I say, it’s true.
She’s coming to sing to you
But, to me too, I can’t believe it!
And I can’t wait to sit and see it.

two women

a single
Gemini
of desire

the yin
the yang
betwixt
the known
and unreachable

swinging
on wide
arcs of
extremis

inhabiting
opposite
polar worlds
and all
the spaces
in between
intrepid
sailors
dare hope
to explore

T
the outer
R
the inner

T’s
tiny
name
betrays
a big
robusto
femininity

bombastically
womanly

big *****
jazz *****
perfumed musky
hips and ****
that rock

and those
lips

oh,
those ruby red
Norma Jean lips

I’m puckered
up

begging her
to paste a big
rouge smooch
on my eager lips

press those
bustling bosoms
onto my face

wrap those
arms round me
with a rasperous
hug

shake me
with gyrations
of your gracious
shimmy thang

you wow
the bow
out of this
dog

taking lovers
prisoner
with the
coy blink
of wide
eyes

flashing
lashes
batting
brow
boldly
being
a force
of a
mothers
nature
bearing
and
belting
Bessie’s
*****
blues
to a
howling
crowd
wanting
more

fully
enthralled
bedazzled
enraptur­ed
with quixotic
hypnotics

I'm frozen
solid
hoping to
melt
into the
heat
of your
inviting
fire

R
bespeaks
whispers
from an
inner place

she lines the
lost desires
of a yearning heart

she offers the
softest curves
the delicious touch
the wet presence
of a delicate tongue

limpid fingers
hide shy sly
*******
offering
invitations
to hidden nests
humming the incarnate
dark forest secrets
of bloomed lilacs
and sweet carnations

the voice of poems
dance and flutter
from her mouth
as the lightest
butterfly
wings wayward
onto soft hearts
yearning
seducement

her
kimono
gently parts
at the slightest
suggestion
of a rising
breeze

her songs
invite lovers
to pillowed
chambers
daring
intrepid
men to
risk the
death of
desirous
tempests

I melt
into the
delicate
complexity
of your
fleshy heat

my dear
celestial
twins

the lovely
Gemini
each different
reduce me
in differing ways
to a puddle
of rippling water
reflecting
the glorious
elegance of
wondrous
ambrosial
femininity

Dedicated to
T& R

Music Selection:
Barbra Streisand
Pretty Women

Oakland
4/26/12
jbm

A golden thread connects us
Although it seems impossible it could be that long
It seems to stretch across continents
It joins up the water and land that lie between us
Threaded through airports and harbour walls
It effortlessly knits up plains and cities

A golden thread connects us
Although it seems impossible it could be that strong
It sketches a random pattern, known only to us
Disparate, otherwise unconnected backpages
Mississipi, Dallas, Mountain View, Santa Barbra
Stoneybatter, Skerries, Paris, Milan

A golden thread connects us
Although it seems impossible to think for how long
It stitches and gathers up time; so when you said
"It could be a thousand years or five minutes since we met"
I knew we both thought that forever is possible  
That everything previous would make sense of our present

A golden thread connects us
Although it seems impossible to see how it could
From a distance I saw you go through revolving doors
The golden hair caught my eye, flowing as you walked
I was a man trapped, saved only by one fact
That a golden thread had snagged on my clothes

It’s Halloween
I am going trick or treating
As a samurai
As usual
I go to the house
On the right said of my
House
And get old
Flight attendant paraphernalia
I wake up from the dream
The flight attendant stuff
Meant that my
Gardien angel
Barbra
Was watching me
For I was under a lot of stress.

You walk in to my dreams as though I never ever lost you.
All your faults and doubts have left us and i feel ineffable to be embraced by your presence.
You do not touch me. You wouldn't.
You know well you have touched me enough.
My heart sacredly reads the language of despair you flash me with a subtle look.
Ive always known your scared. You know this too that is why you are here.
My love is strong for you.
You see the gift of tragedy in my eyes you left with me.
The neglection was not apart of your plan.
The recognition of this hurts you in your gut. I try to mask the truth. I am confident i can achieve this. I want to protect you.
You feel wrath towards experience and dimensions but they are you.
Your inability to carry out your intentions has imploded and holds you to me.
It was always pain that bound us Barbara, wasn't it.
I drop the maternal cloth I made in your absence.
All wounds are exposed. Your stare is strong.
You look at your work at a distance. How else?
I feel your nervous but I know your just as brave.
Your taking it in slowly.
I know you are getting closer to yourself now like you said last time.
I only wish light for you.
I promise.

I am such
a *******
******.

Been fanning the flames
of my flamboyant faggotry
since April 1990
when I strutted from the caverns
of my mother's....
nevermind,
I'm never touching one of those.

My childhood is exemplified
by late-night espionage treks,
sneaking through my sister's side
of our bedroom
maximized by youthful perspective,
each step of mine garnering more
taut gravity than the next,
finally reaching the Holy Grail:
her Barbie collection.

In the fourth grade, I drew
my interpretations of those
beautiful, diamond-infested drag queens
that rained feathers and sequins
upon one drought of an existence,
the adults framing my tolerance
as a ****-stained abomination.

Now people ponder
why I'm so overt
with my gaydom.

Why argue with your
nostalgia-hemmed family friend
over the cultural significance
of the Barbra Streisand Album,
or gladly sit through marathons
of 1980s ****** camp classics?

It's the kid in me.
Something lost for an era
in a washing tub
of middle school torture tactics,
heavy breathing
over hiding something
so natural.

And a few years of that
are **** stifling enough
for this gigantic ******.

When I was a child, I was told the story of my Grandfathers mother she was a refugee from mother Russia.
He told me that we were no longer considered white that is a luxury.
And we have become subhuman in most places.
We were either locked behind iron walls to be kept in or out.

He told me how they sacked and burned our villages.
Then they proceeded to chase us on horseback, with swords pointed too the distant future.

She was led to the nearest boat, headed towards The Land Of Opportunity.

At the island she was locked away for Tuberculose and possibly Lice
When leaving she refused to put an X for her name for obvious reasons.
So she signed ****.

Years later I found out, she had opened a pawn shop down south.
In what now is the forth most segregated area in the states.
She sat outside with a shotgun in a rocking chair and windows barred.
when there King died.

Sadly, the last thing remembered by my Papa's mother including my family is a fist fight.
In Santa Barbra.
I saw the look of panic and pain on her despondent face.
At this point that look was a common occurrence in my day to day life.
Hence, the reason I wasn't allowed at the funeral.
I was locked away at another rehabilitation center.
For crimes I had of course never committed

Since then I have not laid any tulips or morning prayers.

When word spread in the Hearst Tower that Carolina Herrera would be pulling up a chair to chat with Elle’s Robbie Myers for a Masterclass Q&A;, the speed of the RSVPs rivaled those of Barbra Streisand.

In less than an hour, Herrera regaled the crowd with her telling insights and signature élan, detailing some of the highlights of her career and deconstructing the current state of fashion with her wit.

First things first, Herrera: whose own personal style is practically synonymous with elegance, said of that trait, “Elegance is not only what you’re wearing but it is the way you are wearing it. It’s the way you choose what to wear for your style, your personality, the way you live. It doesn’t have anything to do with beauty or money….It’s what you project — your taste in books, houses, paintings, the way you move, the way you talk.”

When Herrera decided to do what she now does, she turned to her “great friend” Halston, whose initial reaction was, “‘What have you been drinking? Are you mad?'” she said. But his trepidation was only due to how demanding the industry is, Herrera added. “You have to be passionate,” she said.

Diana Vreeland, a friend of Herrera’s husband Reinaldo‘s family, was her mentor — “a very, very interesting woman, intelligent, very for-the-moment,” she said. But her initial plan to design fabrics was not well-received by Vreeland. “She said to me, ‘Well that is the most boring thing that you are telling me. Why don’t you do a fashion collection for women.’ She gave me the idea,” Herrera said.

In business for more than three decades, Herrera said her company’s DNA remains rooted in sophistication, elegance and timelessness. “I want women to look like real women, I do not want them to look like clowns because of what’s in fashion. I like fashion to be for now and for the future. You cannot only be for the past…like everybody in life — painters, musicians — you have to evolve. You have to live in the times that we live in.”

With two of her four daughters involved with the business, Herrera said, “Of course, we have little problems — tiny, tiny — but they always end up doing what they have to do and they always end up doing what I say they have to do.”

Herrera is very much all about today’s social media with 500,000 Instagram followers and 1 million Facebook fans. “You have to listen to the likes, dislikes and whatever they say — that’s the excitement of social media. But if you start reading all the messages, you will not have a life. It’s impossible to read all of them.”

Here, a few of Herrera’s other observations:

• “I didn’t live at Studio 54 and I don’t wear the white shirt every day.”

• “It’s very important to possess in your house a full-length mirror.”

• “Bob Mackie did the naked look years ago for Cher. There was one — now there are many.”

• “There should be a little mystery with women. They have confused sexiness with femininity. They think to be **** you have to wear a dress that is four sizes smaller than you, and also show everything you possess.”

• “You go to the opera and you see a sea of sneakers. It’s not like before when things were in a certain way, and everyone pretty much did the same. There are not anymore rules in fashion. Everything is accepted. You have to be strong. You have to be you.”

• “Mrs. Obama has her own style and she knows exactly what she wants to wear.”

• “Perfume is the invisible accessory that a woman is wearing. It is very strong for your memories.”

• “Stylists are getting more famous than the people they dress.”Read more here:www.marieaustralia.com/evening-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/bridesmaid-dresses

Where were you when you heard
First heard some legendary song?
Does it get permanently hooked
To that time in life as it went along?

When I was twelve years old
I was coming home on the bus
A car radio playing Elvis singing
That’s “All Right Mama” passed us.

Freezing my *** in a weapons plant
When I first heard “Everybody’s Talking”.
I had no money and no good car
But I almost started walking.

All the time I was driving
“Light My Fire”, was always playing
With that bridge you couldn’t ignore.
I always link going west on I-40 to
My introduction then to the Doors.

T’was almost fifty years ago today
Sergeant Pepper and his band did play.
I was working as fry cook in KC
Wishing I could afford to run away.

I heard Yes singing “Your Move”
In Hollywood on Sunset and Vine.
I had no idea who that group was
I only knew they were new and fine.

Bopping down Hollywood Boulevard
And fashionable in Frankenstein shoes
I was styling with my pleated bells
Singing “Staying Alive” as I would cruise.

Music changed for me again, for the better
With the opening of Yellow Brick Road.
Elton made that dramatic opening bit
Opposite of a country *****-backed toad.

Barbra and Donna in great duet called
Were wailing out “Enough Is Enough”.
I was thinking finding a better team
Than those two divas would be tough.

She was a small town girl
visions of suburban angels
she had big dreams
and itchy feet
she packed her bags
and her guitar
gave herself to the wind
like a summer tune
she had the California dream
so she left that small town
shrinking in the rear view mirror
and she drove west
until the gas ran out
and the pennies were spent
so with her bag
and her guitar
and her thumb
and her itchy feet
she hitched a ride to Santa Barbra
and she still resides there
making her music
just a small town girl
with itchy feet
and a guitar

rich people go to die
and the young people who live there
have lived there forever
are going to live there forever

thats what the river
behind my house told me
as I waited for the smell of the hello
when the school bus pulled up.

I think that is when I knew I wanted to be rich and never work.

That's also when I gave the kid next to me the finger.
Because he said something stupid.

The demon driver of despair reprimanded me.
But, Barbra Streisand would say I had chutzpah.

The Asian grocery store in Aurora terrorizes the people.
The smell of fish genocide punches me in the face every time I walk in.

Nothing was the same now that home was in another state.
NOw that the lethargic drug dealer sits next to me on the light rail.

Canyon Road is where the sun sets and the stars lift off to light up the sky.

I have been kicked in the guts so many times.
Not always intentionally.
They probably don't even know.
But it happened none-the-less.

Some might say I should have learned by now.
But 'learned' suggests intellect.
I have the knowledge,
I can see what's coming, but I don't avoid it.

Each time I think I have been battered enough
To not have anything left to be able to go there again.
So now I know no matter how tired and battered I am
I have all this to look forward to again.

It might be someone new,
It might be someone I thought I meant something to,
Reminding me, in someway,
How they didn't really.

I can't numb my heart,
Definitely not long term.
I can't stop wanting, loving (or thinking I do)
I can't stop the intensity of my emotions.

I even want to feel, as much as I dread it.
I love the passion, being alive.
Maybe even the fear of what's to come.
Something like Barbra Streisand's 'Being Alive'.

If only I could feel that
And have someone feel it about me.
The emotions aren't the problem
Being in it alone is.

But that's the way it is,
Always.
Just fifty or so more years
Of this to look forward to.

Chapter five


November 18th. 1987



As part of my recovery therapy; I’m being urged to get my GED.  So on Wednesdays I’d come here to the Long Island Consultation; it feels funny coming here and being with a whole bunch of kids who are here to get help with their homework. Months of working on re-learning working through this GED-Prep Assessments and Practice-Test Textbook and with months of so much of going to my groups and individual appointments trying to gain back some sense of stability… working on much of what’s been; and trying to provide a decent life for Joe and Annamarie?! I had full hands; I worked when I was up to it and I’d try to find a place beyond this emptiness which is my life, now.
Finally in November of 87’, I go down to take the test. But, when I get there I’m told I wasn’t allowed to take the test!? They told me that the Birth-Certificate I have is invalid; they tell me, “The child of this certificate was never given a name; There’s no way to verify just who this Certificate belongs?!”
Stunned, I go into the city to 125 Worth Street to order a new copy of my birth certificate which I was sure would be fine and would have my name in the front;  the one I have did have a stamp on the back from the board of health in Jamaica with my name handwritten on it?! I had the number from off of my original and the person at the counter hands me my new certificate; I look down onto the paper and there in bold print is my real first name…, Female; my name is Female Rose, my date of birth is correct??? And, my parent’s names are where parent’s names belong??? But me…; how appropriate I never felt much more than… and here’s proof!? I am nothing more other than female.  I was told if I would like I’d need to get a hold of the vault-copy to add a name to it or be Female Rose for the rest of my life?!  It took several trips but January 14th. I had a name on a certificate and made a new appointment for the test and I received my GED in the mail six months later.





May 3rd.1988
    
Entering home; I run straight to my room! … Quickly, put the latch down; I need to hurry… opening the both draws of the captains’ beds. A knife comes through and unhitches the latch and as it does an arm pops through and comes around the door; her hand comes towards me as it pinchesinto my skin the knife falls and she pulls her arm back out and she’s bangs herself upon the door crying?!   I’m safe of her… banging, pushing; if she makes it in… If she gets the door open far enough I will be dead.  
It’s been months since I have had any real sense of safety around her…; she seems always ready to pounce; but, I still have no doubt that little Joe is safe around her; but, this is about to change.
I begin finding letters around the house; these are letters to Joe?! They’re letters of apologies to him; telling him reasons in why she had to **** his mother…  For her, I care to believe, she was unaware she was even doing this…  About why … she perceives me to be… she transfers her thoughts and feeling about her mother onto me?! Her purpose, her reasons… all these desires in having this want to see me gone?   I don’t really understand, nor does it matter …; it matters not, if there’s a danger to the child?!  And, now, there is reason to worry?!
We were waiting for Joe to come home from school.  Annamarie and I were doing the wash and arguing; about something I don’t remember what… but, I must have said something???  Because, suddenly she snaps?!  She begins beating on me?! She’s yelling and biting… She’s calling me Elaine, Mommy and this time she wouldn’t snap out of it?!  She wasn’t going to stop…unless I’m dead on the floor; this time it wasn’t going to end?!  I called Steven; Steven would hang-out with me so he could be close to Annamarie, I call him to get his help; I need help get her to calm-down before Joe comes home and see her this way?!  
Steve arrives but it’s simultaneously with my Joe arriving home and when they both got to my bedroom door… she on top of me on my bed with a knife pressing down hard against my throat, just a split-second more, there would have been a slit and puddle… and it would have been my last breath in this life?!  Joey, yells, Theresa!!!  Dear God in heaven, it snaps her back… Joe’s voice reaches her; the knife falls to the side of my neck it lands beside me on the bed and she runs out and runs into Joe’s room crying. My Joe clutches a hold onto me and I try to tell Joe everything’s alright and…  Steve begins yelling at me “Whatever this is happening here; what ever made her act this way… It has to be something you did?! “

I brought the letters to the courthouse;
After that day I had to go to the court and get an order of protection; I told Annamarie there is no way life can continue this way and we could no-longer live under the same roof anymore?!  Telling her,” You could have the choice of staying here in this house and I’d move out … You could find a new place and I’ll compensate your rent; and, there’s no problems, no worries, you won’t lose time with Joe. But, this life the way it is must change?!  I will pay your rent and you can have Joe here while I’m not home all of this is just about you and I not being able to stay in the same home together.
At first she says she would like to find a place of her own… I was rather proud of her doing this on her own; weeks pass and then she tells me she hadn’t looked and I could leave instead?! I told her, “No; we already told Joe he would keep his room and he wasn’t going to have to move to a new place?! I won’t be the one moving! You had the choice now that’s it you go!  


I sent Joe out to a camp for four weeks through The Fresh Air Fund.  My sister moves her stuff out taking all but Joe’s bedroom set and half of his toys other than these things it was an empty apt. Oh yeah, she does leave a bed for me; it’s an old GI.Special military cot…I never saw it before but there it is in the kitchen broken?!  And she left this old television-set which I thought she had thrown away months ago when I gave her a new one, it must have been in her hoard down in the basement. Not one thing was left in the basement?  I hope she found a good place; I can’t see any place could afford on her own where she’ll be fitting the amount of stuff she had pulled out of here?! She refused my help telling me I threw her out for no reason… She says we had no fight the way I said and the only thing that’s happening is I’m throwing her out like garbage???
She doesn’t remember?        
She wouldn’t allow me to know just where it was she lived; so I didn’t let Joe stay with her at first. I thought she lived somewhere on her own; come to find that she moved in with this man which later on she’ll end up marrying. Once I met him… and only when he would come and promise Joe’s return did I give Joe the ok to spend the weekend with her… it was hard.
And once this arrangement began working Annamarie would say I watch Joe while you work… I told her I’d give her half my pay and you could be here or home with Joe whenever I needed to go to work!  Low and behold whenever I had work she wasn’t anywhere to be found!? I’d call her, get no answer?! She forgot and/or wasn’t home, you asked me to watch him? Or, she’d come to the house three hours late and tell me ok go to work now I’m here???
.
I began asking Anne Copland to watch Joe once in a while; I worked seldom. When, I tried to get anyone for babysitting in short order became a one hundred and twenty-five dollar job for one night’s work from 7pm to 7am. a job that nobody wants to take… no reason given just can’t do this for you anymore???   Only one who never stopped this was Ann Copland right next door… but I couldn’t depend on her alone; it wouldn’t be fair to do… she loves Joe but for the most part she’s up there in age and it is hard for her to keep up with a child for long time work? Besides she wouldn’t take the money, and, I need someone that I could call in a moment’s notice. Ann was there when she could… but there are times when she wasn’t up to doing it?!  
It was really hard but we Joe and I made things work; and, we had made our home cozy once more. We brought in furniture and Painted and he was happy to have his mother around. In the springtime Joe had made a backyard garden; he planted so many things herbs, vegetables’ and he even had a long planter growing tall corn! Never got one niblet but Joe truly enjoys gardening! We got a cat… her name’s Crescent, Joe likes cats he is only so good around dogs though he doesn’t dislike them.
My mother comes to town; she and Eddie were over… that cat burrowed a hole beneath the couch into its springs and hid from my mother… never seen Crescent act this way before or since?!
My mother was not impressed with the color my son choose for the walls in my dining-room; it’s the loudest tone of orange one could imagine being able to be created and placed on a wall! And, with the big round white table and the bright red and white chairs and with the artwork that was on the walls?! Let us just say my mother could not eat a thing in that room without needing to toss her cookies; Eddie smirked, when he entered the room, saying, “This would wake a person up!” My mother seemed very surprised by the fact that my house is so well furnished!? She did just come from Annamarie’s and it hadn’t been all that long since she moved out of here… my mother perhaps thought I’d be sitting in the middle of the floor??? And be without food or a dish or a place to eat??? My sister did take everything; but…
At least Eddie says, “The place looks nice!”
I never seen a woman so disappointed?! I rather think she’d been way happier if she found the house empty of anything good and the two of us living in squalor?!  Do not get this wrong, not for nothing, but I think she was hoping to have me and my son crying out and needing her help. No mother wants to feel completely unneeded!    
Though, I must say, after about two hours my sister and her boyfriend drops-in to bring my mom and Eddie to my Aunt Barbra’s house and Annamarie’s face said it all…; she hadn’t seen the house in a while and she wouldn’t or couldn’t say a word!

I do not know what Annamarie told her mother about why she had moved out?! Of that, it doesn’t matter to me; I only hope life becomes better from here.




March 13th.1989


Well, this is her father, he dies; Annamarie and John, my brother, go to Florida!? My mother calls and offers to pay my way if I want to go with Joe down there… I told her, “He’s not my problem??? I have no wish to go there!”
“Risa; you shouldn’t be like that maybe Joe would want to say goodbye?”  
I thought,’ I’m sure he would have four years ago when it was instead of “See you in the morning, monkey!”??? Now, what? We should spend money to go plant the man???’; “No thank you mom Joe has school; which is too important! Besides that… like I just finished saying, he’s not my problem!”
“You know he’s your father; you may regret not going some day?!”
“I very-much-doubt-it!”  I look to the phone as if it just turned into a turnip???” Mom, keep your money; it’s not happening!”
“But…”
“Mom… We both know better?! I do thank you but no; Not going!”

When John and Annamarie returned to New York she was cruising off the deep-end??? She kept seeing him floating around calling to her to go with him; if we weren’t watching her she probably would have walked off the earth; poor girl’s hallucinating…  
“Daddy’s floating over there; don’t you see him? He has no eyes!  He needs me to help him to get around!”
His eyes were given to the eye-bank?! And, this little churp-bird is…
“Annamarie; He doesn’t need your help; his being he is so you can know he doesn’t need you? He can see even without eyes now!”
“No, He needs me!?”
“Annamarie, how did Daddy get, all the way, up here from Florida?  How could he without his eyes if he needed them to see? ”
It took her awhile before she stops acting so lost; there were a few times when Joe was out with her when the poor kid had to help the two of them find their way home; Joe wouldn’t go out with her alone again for a very long time. Joe would always ask her if his Uncle Al was going to be with them. Poor kid has aspersers’ and he has to watch-out for his Aunt?!

So easily

I fall
under the
eclipse
your eyes,

weightless
timeless
to a
place
in between

all of
the heart
beats of
an innocent
child,

where
everything
is new,

and your
touch  is
a hot
jungle
rain
that
seems to
never end.

it  falls
over me

cleanses
me,

makes
everything
inside me
renewed
and
certain

that I
am alive.

this place
where

only a
dreamer
who truly
looks
in your
eyes

can see.

and a
fool

cannot.

No voice is quite
like that voice...
pure and unfettered
every note polished
perfect
every lyric deeply felt
delineated

A voice that lifts
caresses
embraces

Soaring with power
stratospheric
in its reach
yet at times
surprisingly soft
yielding
delicate

A priest sent her
a letter stating he
felt the presence of
God every time he
heard her sing

An incomparable artist
she fills our universe
with glorious sounds
and infinite rapture

She is God's greatest gift
to music and the world...
her name is Barbra

I did not engineer

Nor attempt to construct

The human soul

No

Not I



The mere idea seemed frivolous

Damnably gelatinous and

Above all else

Impossible to comprehend

How silly it might turn out

Indeed I thought this



I did attempt however

To make a spicy jam

One evening at the

End of Winter I believe

Lovely time

When this,

What I consider the beginning of a debacle,

Began



I threw together

Bits, and things, and twigs,

And professional spices,

And Illicit words, and

Brown sugar,

And old tea,

And harmless fun

And Puppy Dog Tails,

And I’m allergic to snails,

And something that I called Steve



It could have been Tom

But it looked like a Steve to me

Despite its arguments that it was

A Barbra through and through



I stirred and fiddled and sang

To this black and thin glop

I indeed attempted to call

A spiced jam concoction

That was tap-dancing in circles

On my stovetop without permission



When, no I know, the usual happened

I became bored

Yes

Yes Indeed I did

Bored

Thoroughly

Bored

Bored

Bored



Where was I?

Oh yes.

Bored



Bored of this

Damnable,

Jammable,

Fred Astaire

Not spicy jam



So I left what would become

The self-engineering diluent,

Now a vicious, viscous, and crude thing

That would become the human soul

On the back burner  

While I cooked some pasta instead



I prefer pasta

It is delicious

Not like that mistake of mine

It continued to be a mistake of mine

It was not pasta,

It was not spiced jam,

And I never remembered to throw it in the Hazmat bin

Whoops



For a year

I believe

It could have been a week

A very long and tiring week

Or seven years

When I heard the back burning

Singing back to me

About apples with a crisp bite

About fireworks that misfired

About drug needles used to sew together sanity

Was this too spicy?



With its two voices of

Hospital dust

And

Captive applause



Oh my,

This couldn't possibly

Taste good

I believe whatever this has

Festered into without

Adult supervision,

I believe it might be beginning to turn

Like milk and wine



I bottled it in a wooden bottle

And left it on the stoop of an orphanage

To find a good home

I wonder if this not spiced jam

Has found a good home

Last I heard

They all went from it to They

And attended Engineering School.

Have you a film of Kris Kristofferson beating the **** out of Barbra Steisand with an ax handle?

Strip away their celebrity to realize that you have been worshiping pigs. For planned parenthooders: eating bacon is an act of cannibalism. Communist, blood-thirsty dogs justify the murdering of children as revenge for the murdering of children while Hillary **** Clinton kills conceptualized manhood with lesbian-fighting techniques.
   For a Japanese man, Japanese-***-doll-mannequin manufacturers will manufacture a beautiful, synthetic woman weighing 110 pounds. For an American man, Japanese-***-doll-mannequin manufacturers will manufacture a synthetic woman weighing 260 pounds with a honker like Barbra Streisand while the U.S.-fiat-money-funded-Anglo/American coalition slaughters millions of Arab mothers & their children because the Koran makes women dress funny.

I am from Mrs. Meyers
From scentsy's and Del Monte fruit
I am from the Plants in every window and brass figurines,and DIY sheelves  

I am from the Needles of the douglas tree crunching under are feet as we play Hunger games with Nerf guns.

Im from Sunday family dinners and love is love no matter who you  are or who you love.  

From my great grandma Barbra Ward and my mom Anglea Ward

I am from the random family game night and having dinner together everynight.

From " I love you to the moon and Back." and  "So what happend was"

Im from "it takes a Village" as we all chip in, Aunts and Mom's and sibbling and cousins all the same.

Im from Oregon, they came from the Lone Star state making a life in the ****** state, also chorizo and eggs, and Gibblet Gravey

From the storys of my great Pappa helping build the railroads coming from Texas after a transfer moved Brabra, his wife and him to oregon.Bikes we get from GT, where my uncle desines and tests bikes.

I am from the Hallway in each house filled with the kids of the ages, each picture showing how we have grown up. From the Great great grandmas Owl kichten radio, with enough greece of its own to fry an egg.

I am from Family is everything, Love is family no matter what.

Countless Times We’ve Met Along The Way

     There was a movie in the seventies
Its title was On A Clear Day
It starred Barbra Streisand and it
Was a musical and kinda like a play

It was about reincarnation and it
Was fascinating and I thought of Deja vu
Times where you think you’ve lived it
Before but you couldn’t, it’s brand new

But yet in the universe or even
Somewhere in our own galaxy
Could there be another you and I
Living out another life a destined odyssey

And could this be repeated over and over
Again and could our minds be connected
To the other versions of ourselves at different
Times and the information gets collected

I’d like to think that it’s possible
Somewhere in time and space
That we’ve been together
In some enchanted place

And it will come to be in our knowledge
On one glorious future day
When we come together yet again
The countless times we’ve met along the way

Written By: Charles Kean
Copyright © 10/01/2022
All rights reserved

so much for view counts...
when... you find... more pleasure...
sieving 2 tonnes of soil...
than... writing your abysmal best...
for some...
competition...
with... wait... who's in charge?
of the poetryfoundation.org?
well... old news...
willard bunn III...
    henry bienen... "resigned"...
oh now i'll be watching...
gone with the wind...
like some ******* secret a-class
*****... like some: ******...
like... requiem for a dream...
             like caligula in the face:
malcolm mcdowell...
i never liked: gone with the wind...
more a ben-hur fan...
barbara! oh... barbra: streisand! oosh!
and effect...
i'll be watching gone with
the wind till the wind don't take me
but lazy thames: might...
**** it... gone with the wind
marathon... one movie x 4...
will probably equal...
the whole harry potter and twilight saga...
well i don't think it's funny...
given... Hattie McDaniel...
nigh-eerie-***** was an uncle tom
after all... h'along...
didn't work 'ard anough!
cots the cradle and cotton the *******
spinning "oops"...
                    about time to stop caring...
i cared once...
bash up: prop'ah punk limbo...
   and the youth can read
the same trash elsewhere
on brick walls and their grafitti hierogylphics..
not mine...
oh sure... well... the movie film critics
were always...
not-circumcised ******...
hard to match up to a pleasing
palette of the aesthetically pleasing: prunes:
last sauced... for the edible...
   coz danzig and world war two
vil alwayz be like: whatz-everz...
             cotton picked: no coal mine: mined...
the slam dunk!
leave that to the slavs:
the albino nigh: oh gee...
no carry bone-ant-and-bean-pop do...
  paid for nothing:
kamikaze!

The only thing that punches
a hole in the flat earth theory
are rainbows and iron domes.

In Ireland, the Leprechauns
were distilling illicit alcohol in
copper pots mixed with mead.

There was no gold, it’s a myth
and the hallucinogenic colours
were due to a proof of over 100%.

In Tel-Aviv recently they watched
the solar system fall close to their
billion $ bomb proof observatory.

But because it was at night they
never got got to see the rainbow.
Yet, the aurora borealis was lovely.

Barbra Streisand was going to sing
a star is born (metaphor for Israel)
it had to be postponed, until later.

This was due to calls for an abortion
as the scan revealed a fœtus flaw and
that the Bibi could become a monster!