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Tuesday, October 31, 2017
But why wont you come home tonight? You left your bed unmade and your cup of coffee on the table. Your socks on the floor and your toothbrush in the shower. Why wont you be home for dinner tonight? We planned to go out tonight - remember? You left us all alone now - no one to make us laugh or to bring us home. But why wont you bring me flowers again? You promised me forever 10 years ago tomorrow... Stolen life, stolen love...I'm left here all alone waiting for the door to open and to hear you singing a song... A smile, a wink, an embrace and long walks in the snow...Remember we made snow angels in the silence of the night? Why wont you be home tonight? Halloween costumes in the garbage now, all our plans have been stolen... A walk on the West Side Highway on your way back home...Now you wont be coming home tonight. ***A REMINDER EACH LIFE IS MORE THAN A CASUALTY IN A GROWING LIST OF LIVES STOLEN BY TERRORISTS. TOO MANY LIVES HAVE BEEN STOLEN TOO MANY LIVES HAVE BEEN DESTROYED BY SENSELESS HATRED. SOMEWHERE TONIGHT THERE ARE TEARS BEING CRIED AND WORLDS THAT HAVE BEEN DESTROYED. LIVES THAT SHOULD HAVE LIVED ON ARE NOW JUST ANOTHER STATISTIC IN THIS WAR OF HATRED BEING WAGED BY ISLAMIC EXTREMISTS. A WAR THAT CANNOT BE WON*** #nyc #life #love #comehomeInstagram
Tuesday, love is blowing in the wind, answers floating, gliding towards a destination preordained, destiny in a word. Raspberry apples, strawberry onions and groomed gentlemen, wandering, wondering, lost. Wednesday, train is plowing across the platform, people scurrying across the stairs, up through the aisles, riding rushing this hour towards a desk, a chair, a phone, a never-ending universe within a screen. Only to turn around and ride home, to an empty chair, with a table and a universe emanating from a 35 inch screen. Thursdays are kind days to the younger folk, nights of dreams and dances filled with songs and drink. Fridays are pulsating and alarm clocks ringing, across town are littered with remnants, proof of the previous evening's revolting movements. A long jump and wiggle, called dancing. A soft song reminds one of the soft dance from a hundred years ago. When war stared down at 17 years old and death was knocking at the door with a letter and a flag. Saturday… Sunday… Monday. And open door, no welcome mat, just an open door, the sounds of laughter and to aroma of coffee. I am here, do you know who I am? A poem for a Tuesday, it feels like a Wednesday, a wish it were Saturday. I am in need of a smile and some currency, some love and some realization of some hopes and dreams. Read my words, I want you to read my words, the words reveal me more than my eyes can ever dare. Read me, see me, understand me? #picoftheday #poetry #tuesdayInstagram
Monday, October 30, 2017
Sunday, October 29, 2017
Saturday, October 28, 2017
Friday, October 27, 2017
It's a catastrophic misunderstanding between hope and despair. Tears well up while her heart is beating as she stares into his eyes so sincere and trusting. Just a photograph of a stranger she once knew, when hopes and dreams were the measure of a day. A horse galloping and a bird flying across a canyon. Ominous sounds emanate from the valley once devoid of any wild life. Read more http://ift.tt/1hbPRfX
Catastrophic Misunderstandings
Lost! Hearts and souls, hold hands and say, “it's alright, it's alright, let's right these wrongs. These catastrophic misunderstandings of love and lust, these lies, disguised as hopes and dreams. Emotional misers wander around searching...while love starved lovers sit waiting to be found. In a hotel room overlooking La Mujer Dormida, in Mexico a forgotten doll lays on the floor behind the curtain while an old man drinks his bootleg tequila from a metal cup...the sun sets somewhere while he closes his eyes. 
Wednesday, October 25, 2017
Monday, October 23, 2017
We would each get the chance to pick out our costume. The costumes would come in a small box. In my case, Popeye, came with a plastic mask with a string stapled to each side of the mask which we would place on our face with the rubber band string around our head to keep it in place. #halloween #Brooklyn Read more http://ift.tt/2l9ybJA
Trick or Treat?
When I think about Halloween I think about when we moved to east 2nd street; we would go trick or treating after school and try to avoid being egged. (raw eggs being thrown at us) We would come home, running from the bus, put on our costumes and go house to house - then to the buildings on the corner of east 2nd and avenue S. We would come home and sort out the candy - non-kosher candy, fruits (with or without blades) and loose candy would go into the garbage. There were also the ones who would give us a dime, or some pennies. I remember putting together enough change to buy a wiffle ball or two. I know I am romanticizing this - I am sure it was not always as much fun and filled with excitement as my memory tells me. As the the days become shorter and eventually, cooler - the turkeys are beginning to run away from the butchers and the Enteman pumpkin pies are arriving on the counters of the supermarkets - I become nostalgic. Hell, I am always nostalgic. Life is not a simple task and to me, nostalgia helps me deal with life’s complications.
Sunday, October 22, 2017
He didn't consider himself a cannibal. The fact that he enjoyed the taste of the blood left on his weapon of choice after an assault of his latest victim, didn't seem to be cannibal like, but more blood thirst. So when Denise asked him what kind of food he liked, he simply said, “hand made food.” “You mean homemade food?” “Yes,” he laughed, “homemade food.” http://ift.tt/1hbPRfX
Blood Oath
He didn't consider himself a cannibal. The fact that he enjoyed the taste of the blood left on his weapon of choice after an assault of his latest victim, didn't seem to be cannibal like, but more blood thirst. So when Denise asked him what kind of food he liked, he simply said, “hand made food.”
Friday, October 20, 2017
Wednesday, October 18, 2017
Tear Stained Smiles
A picture found, laughter heard and the stains of teardrops on faces around the world.
Sunday, October 15, 2017
Alive
Ruminations, thunderstruck, clouded over and shrouded into a dark corner. With incessant voices, from another time, same place.
Wednesday, October 11, 2017
Back to the Past, Future
A man was playing a guitar but no sound seemed to come from the instrument - only the occasional grunt of frustration from him. There were people gathered around him waiting for the songs to be played...they just sat around and waited in silence.
Tuesday, October 10, 2017
Saw an Old Man
I was standing on the platform on Kings Highway waiting on the F train to take me to the city when I saw an elderly man sitting on the bench. I knew this man since I was a child, seen him around my neighborhood; standing upright and boisterous. He was the kind of man who would walk into a room and everyone would know it before they even recognized his face. He had that dynamic mystique, while not good looking and fit; he had a persona that was like an open door promising warmth and good cheer. So many scenes swept me up in a conspiracy of time travel that I felt dizzied by the theater of it all. He sat there and had a look on his face of confusion? As if he had gotten off the train at an unfamiliar stop somewhere? Or was it his eyes brows rising on the outer parts, sinking in the inner; his face unevenly shaved and his shirt unevenly buttoned up that made him seem lost?
Tuesday, October 03, 2017
October for Love
Memories, a circus, a clown. A Carny, a trick and slap of cards and smoke. . Lights on, lights out, rainy night once again. A flask filled with cheap whisky.
Dream Come True
These past years have been financially and mentally exhausting - fodder for my stories is the reason I feel I have been thrust through the tunnel of failure over and over. I walk into the restaurant and I catch a glimpse of her smiling. Nothing as beautiful to me in the world than her smile. 
Sunday, October 01, 2017
The Rain in Juarez
We started off drinking some burgundy from a bota bag and then moved on to partake in the bottles of tequila, homemade, that were being passed around. There was a table beneath the overpass with local homemade food which the ladies brought in trays. We kept on dancing as long as the band kept on playing. The tequila made me dizzy so I drank some more which brought some equilibrium - the rain subsided and the clouds parted to reveal and hot sun. The band began to play a familiar tune, to me at least, and we stood aside and watched as some locals performed a dance they must have danced a thousand times.
Roses on the Floor
Long time ago, our whole lives speeding by at a million miles an hour, we never stopped to check out the beauty that surrounded us. Thirty years goes by and 21 turns to 51 and still the world is out of focus, yet better defined. Love is the answer, it always was, lost in a […]
Swinging Tire on a Tree
Silent scream in the dark, a cigarette extinguished, a fun moon hangs on the ceiling with billions of stars. We are not alone, we are not alone. A birthday card, a broken pencil and a stamp on an envelope with no address. A deserted beach, a cape, an inlet to a deserted time. A phone […]
If Only…
Downtown Chicago, a moonless night and the young man walked with a limp; it wasn’t his legs that caused it, but a psychological illness which someone manifested itself as a limp. Four years clean and counting, each day a war, each moment a battle. Old friends tossed away like the cigarettes smoked outside of another […]
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