E-mail has replaced the mail.

Cd’s have replaced tape cassettes

I never got a cd, now can’t get a tape cassette.

Can’t keep up with the new,new, new.

Everyday somethings’s new on the shelf

of society’s intrinsic worth.Paper and pen turned to typewriter.

Typewriter to computer, then lap-top,

computer chip.

Nothing’s basic anymore.

Radio’s were way back when

Then t.v’s, then digital, digital


The world moves too fast for us to

keep up with.

w i z za r d r y, w h i r l w i n d,

scrambling my brain.

Drive through food shops, no more

planting, food made in test tube labs.

Dolly’s been cloned, then Peter and Paul.

No longer any identity to this paper-clip



He hadn’t the foresight to

see man would write away

lose his hold on his beautiful fold.

The tap, tap, tap of a dancer’s shoes, 

are the tap, tap, tap of a lap top.

We’ve lost our way!




NEW YORK CITY, THE AFTERMATH 0CT. 4, 2001, I went back to New York to attend my cousin’s memorial service who was killed in Tower 1. He came early to work that day in order to leave early to take his son to the doctor. I stayed for a month taking photos of the walls of Manhattan.

Soft air atop tall buildings

Smooth caressed by the breezes.

As I sit on the 32nd floor

with my friend Sandy

at the health club where

she goes to unwind.

and to forget the troubling

events of the last three weeks.

How beautiful this city is.

Lit up in her glory

Ram Das, Ram Das

and more.

The infinite kindness

Of the lovely spring-like weather

In October as the city tries to

get back on her neutral terrain.

As I weep for the sanctity

and beauty of New York.

Breezes blow my feshly

washed hair clean as I 

wash away the dirt and

grime of the burnt smells

of lower Manhattan.

The city is as a weather vain

as it broadcasts the terrain

of what comes and goes

in and around her.

She is like a wanton waive

attacked, raped, brought asunder

Then she climbs back with a

rolling thunder, a crescendo

on her shelf life of life space.

Amidst the infinite cataclysms

which reeked havoc

three closer to four weeks ago.

The city that dropped to her knees

The hole still there

in lower Manhattan

The promise of a more

grand view arises from

The askewed state

of her brandished self.

She will rise again. 


She, the woman who bore you

who carried you in her womb.

Who was angry at you

for being there.

Who tried to abort you

as you saw a black

question mark.

aimed at your heart, like a dart.


Barely breathing

tip toeing around the house

avoiding her at all costs

lest the barreled gun

of her mouth

would explode once more.


Who years later I barely

daring to laugh

or angry eyes

would dagger  at me.


My emotions squashed down

deep, deep, deep, they went

until I knew not what

I felt.

squished together

hiding, hiding, hiding

from her wrath.

Then suddenly….


quiet, , still

Mommy, “Come back to me.”

Where are you

“Mommy, where are you?”

No words spoken from her

for days.

What to do?

How to please?

cold inside

icy chills .No weaponry cut me in two

like her chilly silence.

Suddenly, she spat on the floor.,

“You disgust me.”You’re an animal”.

“No one can Stand the sight of you..”

Then the kick came

the one which caused me

more pain than than any. 

Into my crotch

me on the floor

arms held up

defending myself.

“What! To a mother, you dare hit?” 

Shame and guilt

plagued me.

I died then

left my body

floated to the ceiling

I watched. 

Her raging storms

became my raging storms.

I became she.

She in me.

No identity

Twenty years later

I lost my voice..




Who bore life under the L.

Riding the F Train in e-l-o-n-g-a-t-e-d

 F/r/a/c/t/ur/e/d Holy Ways!

Who grew ageless e-x-p-a-n-d-i-n-g

 Minds on Timothy’s acid.

Who blew crack, weed, and reefer-

 Floating images to their ceiling

As opiate dens brought distance

among them. 

Who cried to the night, me , hold me, rock me,

 Billy’s blues brought tangled ecstasy

As the beauty of the too  far etched

out jazz beats brought us home-to slumber

Whose insomniac nights created rich currents

 of loose change.

Where you walked for hours searching for an

 open store  for another drag on a cigarette.

Whose holy sanctified nights brought you the 

 L. the F. the D, the A – Riding all night 

 to Bronx and Brooklyn

Eyes hazed, closing bars, booze soaked 

 Clothes, stanched breath – Rock out!

Who gave us the beat generation , created nights 

 Cum soaked on. Wild eyes, crazy lies, earthen

 Stones, underwear – bare shirts, streamed flowers,

 No shoes – walked for hours. Go on home.


 Black slippery rails on trains, babies crying

On mother’s breast held by straps like kangaroo

papoose. War cries, chants, screaming jungle

fever.  Protest war VIETNAM









Whose holy sanctified night brought you the

 L. the F. the D. the A.-Riding all night

 to Bronx and Brooklyn.

 Eyes hazed, closing bars, booze soaked

clothes, stanched breathe -Rock out!

Who gave us the beat generation, created night

 Cum soaked on. Wild eyes, crazy lies, earthen

 Stones, underwear – bare shirts, streamed flowers,

 No shoes – walked for hours. go on home.


Black slippery rails on trains, babies crying

On mothers breasts held by straps like kangaroo

Papoose. War cried chants, screaming jungle

Fever. Protest war V I E T NA M






 Billy’s blues brought tangled ecstasy


Loving Again?

I haven’t wanted to be involved with a man in any type of intense way since my last relationship which left me devastated, Yet here I am again into my seventies and life is short. Most of my cousins have coupled up, except for myself and two other female cousins.I never had good disernnent when it came to choosing men who were kind and consistenly caring. It always changed and obviously I have a part to play with this ocurence. As for male friends, I’ve had many kind and consistent men and remain good friends with them. I find this easy, the friend part. However when any intense feelings arise then it’s back to my being a three year old kid again. I regress emotionally and they become the object of my obsession and my desire and I lose my own identity.  hate when this happens. I worked hard to obtain my own identity and see my own strengths to allow anyone to take this away from me. Not that they’re taking anything away from me; but it seems to just occur, losing myself in their identity. Therapy, you may ask? Only a life time of it. Working for years on repairing my childhood This seems like a life time of work and i improve and am fine until… the love object appears and then trouble in my paradise. I don’t want this to happen and perhaps if I breathed in some oxy tosone I’d feel this bonding in general and wouldn’t need or have that desire to put my love on one person. I saw on John Stossel how they had him breathe in this chemical that creates the love bonding affect when two people fall in love. it’s produced by one’s own body. If i had some of that hit to take, i’d be more self loving and in general people loving so I wouldn’t direct all my love in one place. There has to be a way to put up boundaries with the opposite sex and not lose my own identity. So far, it’s never happened. I’d hope with all the personal growth courses i’ve taken on relationships and therapy and spiritual disciplines, I’d be in a different space, but, it’s trusting myself that’s the difficult part of this whole ordeal. To stay in love with me and not give myself away to any one person. It’s a natural tendency when children are abused by their caretakers to be in the position I’m in and a lot of work to be free of this tendency. I remain in limbo, wanting a good male friend to be in my life and yet, fearful of the reprecussions if it’s anything like my past history with men. Only i can take this chance to see where I am with all this. I thought I’d put this on my face book, but decided to put this on my blog instead.

Perennial Favorites: Should You Connect Your Blog to Your LinkedIn Account?

My word press blog

The Daily Post

It’s becoming increasingly difficult to separate our personal and professional lives — in real life and online. In this post from last year, Ben points out some of the potential benefits — and drawbacks — of linking your blog to your LinkedIn profile.

Many bloggers are already enjoying the benefits of connecting their sites to their social networks via Publicize. Sharing your posts on Facebook and Twitter might be a no-brainer — clearly, all your friends and followers want to read your latest piece of staggering wit. But what about professional social network LinkedIn?

Here are some points to consider before you decide to push your blog’s content to your professional profile, too.

Salarymen, by Tom Hilton (CC BY 2.0)Salarymen, by Tom Hilton (CC BY 2.0)

Making the link

LinkedIn is the biggest and most vibrant business-oriented social network. It has hundreds of millions of members, who use it…

View original post 885 more words


From the very first moment as my eyes
held you in my thoes, I felt a fire
burn through me, you were warm and nurturing
slow, incendessant. There was a spark, a
wonderment, an initiation.

Chalie Crews introduced us. “This is Joe, our creative
writing teeacher.”Joe, your electric energy, your beaming
smile, the knowing look of you. I had to know you had to
find out why, this reason for the way you held me in your

I will see you again.

Three years late you taught a course at night when sight opened for me.
to take flight to see you. Your understanding to initiate
the spark I felt when I first met you, The time was right.
During your class I found you tutored in a nurturing way. You
gave to each student a special bond. The invitation was open
for we to become a family. Encirlced within this radiance,
your electric energy held us captive to your wisdom, your bright
sentient ways. You gave respect to each and all. The fire grew.
You came, you saw, you conquered. We knew, we saw, we grew. As one
by one you brought out the best we had. The best emerged as we learned.

I and the others hung on your every word.
We knew we had in you more than a mentor.
We had a power. We were taken away from the doldrums of
the every day. We saw a Joe/God who brought out the best
in each of us. We opened, we saw, we explored. You heard, you saw,
you istened. You are a gifted, noble soul. one capable of greater
momentum than most. One who saw and who considered what each student
had to say. You too, grew from us. This was more than teaching; this was
the realm of incandessant lights. The lights which strirred inside of each
soul there, the vison of the highest order. The wondermen of how it is to be –

You had a pwoer Joe, i say to you. You were indeed a humble/warrior. You had the
gift; you will be missed.