America The Beautiful (Haiku for Ahmaud Arbery)

As Commander-In-Chief

as 
Commander-In-Chief
my troops were all green
but seasoned veterans 
raked leaves
swept the front sidewalk
washed dinner dishes
sometimes
a birthday request
or
found neatly wrapped under the tree at Christmas
gallant troops under my command
all green
yet
seasoned veterans
twenty-five to fifty
still
silent
arriving in plastic bags
carefully opened
placed in strategic positions in the back yard
or 
the back porch
I could comfortably put them in harms way
they would topple over
as I would utter into the summer afternoon breeze
bang
boom
and they would fall into the dirt
brave soldiers
green
yet 
seasoned veterans
all of them
gallant
efficient and brave
following orders from their 
Commander-In-Chief

Redirection

to languidly float on the surface of turquoise oceans
a willowy stroll upon pristine sandy shores 
to bask 
to tan
under the rays and warmth of the summer sun
but
this is a political poem

gleefully frolicking in chocolate water falls
adorn myself in white whipped cream
cherries on top
forgetting all about cholesterol levels
but
this is a political poem

to dine with you in cavernous banquet halls 
limitless trays of well done filet mignon 
peppercorn sauce on the side
mashed potatoes made from scratch
but  
this is a political poem

to wake up in the briskness of the morning
I slowly react to the softness of your touch upon me
the sound of your voice
entices me to love you once more
but
this is a political poem

to look out the back window
watching the children f...

Empty Chair By The Window

you noticed
today
the flares I set in the middle of the dark road 
many nights 
I set them there
purposely
to direct you safely
to me

you noticed
today
the fireworks I purchased from the guy around the corner
he didn't have a license for them
but
I bought them anyway with my meager allowance
saved up for weeks
piggy bank on the dresser in my bedroom
screaming for me to 
get all this stuff out of it

you noticed 
today
a road map left on your kitchen table
the many hours I sat there
staring at you
the many hints I whispered into the wind
intercepted by the aroma of chicken and rice on the stove
she loved to cook
and always noticed me
watching and waiting on the front porch
as I parked my bicycle on the side of the house

she always watched you
not notici...

Be Queen (Re-Post Request For Queen Bee)

what I wish for you is too much to pen
and if words could touch you in your corner of the universe
I want them to plant kisses all over you
to smother you long enough to take your breath away
to have you dance in the Caribbean windstorms
and sway like drunken palm trees
 
when thoughts of love for you
are not butterflies
but mammoth pterodactyl
fierce
in attack mode from prehistoric times
may poetic rhymes caress you
until you climax all over this poetic page
 
may the bee that you are
spit everlasting poetic pollination
germinating into a thousand love poems for all of us to see
to feel
to touch
to be
 
the art of love
the call of love
beckoning you to its holy throne
once unpleasant
now a natural high that has no fix
no group counseling healing session needed
 

What Do You Say (When You Know It's Over..)

what do you say
when you know it's over?
does love just float away
like a leaf in the breeze?
do you pour out your heart
to the nearest stranger
and every night
find yourself on your knees?

does the thought of her
keep you occupied
though you try hard
not to let it show?
does her face appear
on every street sign you see
and does the sound of her voice
follow you everywhere you go?

how can you tell everyone
that it's now over?
no one thought
they would ever see the day
how could you
just let it end like this
and watch her
walk away?

what do you say
when you know it’s over
and the final nail
is hammered into the wood?
you say that you
want to try again
you would make it better
if you could

how can you
recapture moments
pla...

Clean

I'm not a poet

have gone through the rinse cycle

writer of poems

Invisible Poem

can you see me?

a quick glance at my face
and longer stare at the clothes I wear
answering arbitrary questions

"do you got a job?"
or
"what kinda car you drive?"

and I smiled
giving acceptable
and yet
honest answers

we sat there over dinner and drinks
politely conversating about 
nothing we really cared about

did I see you?

I thought I did
hidden somewhere between the 
cleavage and curves
or 
was it my hormones conducting the interview

maybe I wasn't looking in the right place

uppercuts and jabs
my back is against the ropes
defensive positioning

"how many kids YOU got?"
and
"do YOU got a job?"

your answers were honest
and superficially acceptable

now
intellectually satisfied
(for the time being)

It Was All Too Good To Be True

it was all too good to be true...

you  
in that hip-huggin’ black dress  
just lookin’ for me to  
lock my arms around your waist  
and hold you tighter than a crack addict holds his habit  

your hair  
flowing freely  
softly  
just lookin’ for my fingers to  
examine each long  
delicate  
golden brown strand  

your eyes  

hungry  
hypnotic  
big  
brown  
beautiful  
expressing to me without words  
your every hidden desire  

your desire for me to touch you  
to hold you  
to love you and love you  
AND LOVE YOU!!!  

then  <...

I Will Find It

I know it's here
somewhere

saw it yesterday
scurrying underneath the bed
hiding safely in the shadows
scampering into the darkness of the closet

I chased it
looked for the flashlight in the drawer
by the time I returned
shaking the pile of dress shoes
and low hanging clothes from the hangers
it was gone

I know it exists 
somewhere

saw the commercial on TV
it was on sale
special discount if I purchased it in bulk
wondering 
if I needed that many
and 
who I would give the extras to

I know it's history
it's origins

it has changed the course of history
many times over
so many lives lost 
in countless wars
so many lives found
in the aftermath and ashes
and aftermaths of
wrinkled bedsheets in the morning

I don't know...

The Next Door Neighbor

next door to the
Cabin Of Joy
next door 
is where choirs sang
preachers preached
dust settled in the aftermaths of hymns 
sung from faded green books
where uncles
aunts
cousins were packed in the pews
and choir stands
a weekly family reunion

afterwards
Sunday dinners
inhaled between the
amens
and
hallelujahs
consumed in shifts in the small upstairs dining room
children played
but never strayed from beyond the fence next to the
Cabin Of Joy

and on the seventh day
it rested
cigarette smoke
long gone since the morning dew
bottles of gin
consumed by metal trash cans on the curb
the night before
we watched in secret
in the darkness 
from the front window of grandma's house 
right across the street from the
Cabin Of Joy
ta...