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Crossing the street,

In the midst of the crosswalk

Between traffic, BAM it hits me….

I have never rubbed elbows with the rich and wealthy

Except on an east side train to the village…


Watching Friends marathon

Boxers and socks

Alone in bed

6 glasses of pinto grigio later, BAM it hits me…

Love doesn’t know me,

Loneliness is my only friend and (my) life is empty…


Standing in the midst of a city that never sleeps

Promotes a naked cowboy

But arrests a human Spider-Man showing his talents, scaling its tallest building

Shoots innocent men 40 some odd times

Beats another for rushing to a City Council meeting and BAM it hits me…

For 34 years I’ve lived here

2 failed relationships, three and half years locked away in the mountains and 4 children later

I think its time for a change…


When did it hit you???



I wrote this poem many years for a woman that was diagnosed by doctors as being in a persistent vegetative state. Her state of being became a highly publicized and prolonged series of legal challenges presented by the parents and by state and federal legislative intervention effected in total a seven-year delay before life support finally was terminated.

Life and death have no partnership
and I have lived,
fought to survive the cold in mans heart
took part in that I was given but now must depart
The End of Days are upon me
so every breath I take I savor
mind in a jumble,
unable to fend off death and say I,
want to live
or maybe I,
am ready to die
leave this hell behind and claim my spot in the sky beyond the stars.
I have held on for 13 years
and for 13 days and a dozen nights
those who felt death was more potent then my life
I have proved you wrong
and let you know that only God
can say when it’s time for me to go on home… 

   dedicated to Terri Schiavo

April 1,2005

**I started writing this after the current hurricane -Irene-and it just taking form. I wanted to speak as the rain. as the water. as mother nature (to an extent). Tell what you really think did I capture it?

Revision dates:

  • 29 August, 2011 @ 16:20 by Da Poets Corner dot com
  • 26 August, 2011 @ 9:42 by Da Poets Corner dot com

 the pitter patter sounds of rain drops

kissing my window pane

loneliness, washing the filth away

drizzling down the skirts of what once was my life

flooding the ducts of tear wells like an emotional river

 crashing against that once brick wall I’ve finally overcome

sweeping many of my dreams away

eroding the sands of my mental terrain

like I’m growing closer to the end

swaying, my limbs blown in the late Summers breeze

losing pieces of myself  like Fall and Winters leaves

growing colder

bolder as I beat upon walls

looking to wash out the foundation that once stood many years of turmoil

nothing seems to calm the rage of words that storm from these lips

filling these lines

with the passion that drips from my pens tip

like pheromones seeping through the pores of a young anxious male ready to pounce on his first act of adulthood

I am your fear

been for many years

they have predicted my wrath

built boats of steel and wood

hid in high-rise structures

like I couldn’t sweep their feet from beneath them


my path is undetermined

I move like the wind

sometimes I just say fuck it and storm down:


is what they call me when I’m displaying such anger

you can’t dodge me

you can’t escape

my reign is superior I can even affect your emotional state:

its S.A.D.

seasonal affective disorder

I’m gloomy

while my counterpart is happiness:

we’re like RAIN & SUNSHINE

I dampen and ruin days 

while she can make any day full of  joy and fun

but fuck it I don’t need an introduction

I am who I am cause you have made this way

made my words spew violently like vomit from my lips

you’ve tried holding me back with your levies and dams

but still I flushed you away

wiped out the wicked

and destroyed your violent dens

I have caused enough damage and destruction so you will respect my work

 but still you disregard my power

my rage

my anger

the slight of my hand coming down on you like if I was a god


but you need be wary the next time I arrive

I will take you all you disrespect me


everyday our brothers die

everyday our mothers cry

our black women have given up their hopes and dreams

no longer searching for the light

for they have found life in bloody streams…

everyday we lose our sons

to this devilish civilization

that has played tricks on the mind of our young

everyday there’s a war outside these doors

and our men lace up with drugs and guns just to face these wars

giving their lives for this so called paradise

of skyscraping buildings, concrete streets

a white picket fence, with grass and an apple tree

everyday the poor remains poor

eating out the trash

getting cash from the cans

they’ve collected during the storm

while the rich sit upon their thrones

everyday our brothers die

everyday our mothers cry

why oh why…

Tick tock tick tock
Tock tick
The second hand of my watch
Is playing a beat similar to beat of my heart
Forcing my hands to dance across
The groves of this paper
Forming words that will later be the meat of a poem.
The explanation of what makes me feel the way I do,
What causes me to write poetry in this form.
The sensual,  sexual feeling inside
That causes me to rise.
The rage, aggression and chaos
That causes words to fill the page as I cry.

Tick tock, tick tock
Tock tick
goes time trying
to pass me by
escaping me as I

Standing  here day dreaming
wishing to spread my arms
like wings and fly like an

Eagle soaring through the sky aimlessly
Leaving this world behind…

Tick tock, tick tock
Tock tick
Again that sound vibrates through my bones.
My fingers grip this pen
My eyes focus on this page
Words, letters and phrases
Embrace themselves between the lines
And the anatomy of mind is exposed
Feelings revealed
The other side of me shown
To the reader or those that just hear
My words, see me as deeply distraught
Or plainly ingenious, cause the
Tick tock never stops
Whether the beat of my heart
Or the voice in my head…
is all I ever hear…


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