Tuesday, October 16, 2018

Losing me.....

I'm not half as funny as I used to be,
"Just not quite me",
some might say.

But, I'm not twice as loony as I ought to be,
due to some things, you see
which came my way.

I just try and take it day by day,
and still have my say,
and often do.

The hardest part to do is to hang on to you,
and then ask you to
not slip away......

Thursday, October 11, 2018

Last Word to My Father

Would that I could,
but can't so I won't
It's not like I don't want to,
it's simply that I don't

meet your expectations,
so, i had to stop from trying.
It's the only way I had to cope,
and keep myself from crying.

Tuesday, October 9, 2018

"One Righteous Man" by Arthur Browne (2015)

This book is a by product of Langston Hughes unpublished biography of Samuel Battle, New York City's first African-American policeman. Hughes was working on a number of projects at the time he accepted this assignment to co-author Samuel Battle's autobiography in the late 1940's.

The author, Arthur Browne, gives all credit to Mr. Hughes where applicable. He has also created a multi layered story of the history of racism in the ranks of Civil Servants in the last days of the 19th Century as well as into the 20th.

Racism wasn't confined to the South as you may have been taught in school. It was rampant in the North as well. Sometimes more oblique ways perhaps, but at other times it was as brutal as the lynchings were.

One of the more enjoyable aspects of reading this was  authors skillful weaving of the history of those times along with Samuel Battle's own story.  It gives great depth to the the narrative. It helps the reader in understanding the systemic racism Mr. Battle was forced to tackle in order to be what he aspired to be. It is also a great history of  one particular street in Harlem which was like a "Doctor's Row", in that many of the most educated  and affluent of the ciiy's African-Americans lived there. 

Today there is a small plaza dedicated to him outside City Hall. But, in reality, no plaza could ever be large enough to hold the spirit of Samuel Battle. This is the story of that man. It is also the story of his vision and how he achieved it.

Monday, October 8, 2018

Another Birthday!

Looks like another birthday,
another year slipped by.
I'm closer to the end
but not prepared to die.

There's too much left to read and write,
and letters left to send.
I want to stick around awhile
and see how this play ends!

Friday, October 5, 2018


Books on shelves lining walls, tucked in nooks and filling stalls.
One day they'll be gone, so we'll all be reading from our phones.

I miss the paper, miss the smell, of books and ink and words which tell
stories, poems, and news as well. I fear they'll soon be gone.

I love the feel of turning pages, traveling back through distant ages,
reading wise words from the sages. And all things written down.

Knowledge came in stages, and I fear that without pages
It will all be subject to changes. Things of import, ought be writ in stone....

Tuesday, October 2, 2018

Poor Pumpkin

The pumpkin looks quite nervous.
And he has good reason why.
It's his first time in this position,
and he's really very shy.

But the other cause of his distress-
and when I tell you this you'll cry-
He's heard Thanksgiving's coming,
and he's heard of pumpkin pie!

Poor pumpkin, poor pumpkin,
Makes you want to cry.
Poor pumpkin, poor pumpkin,
Bound for pumpkin pie!

Poor pumpkin, poor pumpkin,
Nothing he can do.
Poor pumpkin, poor pumpkin,
Glad that I'm not you!

Photo plagirized from a post by Batton Lash.

Saturday, September 29, 2018

My Finest Hour

This is my worst hour of the day
Waiting here in bed for the pain to go away,
waiting for the meds to work, and keep the beasts at bay,
It helps to know that this is - the worst hour of the day.

I always have believed that life is sweet and sour.
It's never been more true before than in this most painful hour.
Simply to get through it - imagination I must scour
for the tiniest grains of anything, to keep from being dour.

It's not just words on paper now; I often write on screen;
its the one place I can turn and write; with some things left unseen.
But I must never trod the path to become petty or be mean,
You know I'm simply not the type who wants to make a scene.

It doesn't really take much time to write these silly poems and songs.
And doesn't matter anyway, I don't have to wait too long.
In about an hour, while still feeling less than  strong
I'll be wondering, deep inside, how things ever went this wrong...