Many Thanks…

Many thanks are due as I hustle towards, June. I appreciate each and every person that is allowing this run to continue. Poetry and art are saving lives in our communities. If you support the arts, I support you – real recognizes real, and we will all sustain beautifully. June will bring the Voces Writing Institute to the hands of Urban Verbs. We have some amazing things planned for our group of youth. There are applicants waiting to get word – and we are preparing ourselves: Hakim Bellamy, Diles aka Colin Hazelbaker, and I. WE cannot wait, for many days worth of creativity. It is what we do – and we owe it to all of you!

Who’s Comin’ With Me….?

 

 

Same Love…

@Diahndra hipped me to this one – Much love, for showing me: “Same Love.”

Patience…

Balance is the key
life can sometimes be the lock…
patience opens doors.

Unexpected…

We never expect it,
the unexpected… that is -
this is simply
the way it finds us
when things,
sometimes align with
or against,
our wishes.
There are not always stars
or wells
petals
or pennies
on which to cast appreciation
or place the blame
not always answers
so why question?

Any questions?
good -
now simply enjoy what
you didn’t expect
to inherit
to happen upon
or experience

because life,
is built of experiences
and most are always looking to win
big when betting against the house -
so fuck folding.

Origami me something
special so I can fly straight
into what I figured I wouldn’t get into,
we’re just getting started here
who knows what might happen
next.

Everybody, needs some Buddy, sometimes… Buddy Wakefield

Mother’s Day Poem….

We don’t tell them we love them, enough.
We forget to call.
they care,
and don’t, when we forget…
this is the power they possess
the magic
of a mother,
the fixing of things, lives included.
the tending to cuts and bruises -

We can’t quite understand how they do it,
live life for more than themselves
24 hours a day
every day –  in every year,
somehow you turn around, they’re: here – there,
wherever it is they need to be.
I don’t get the often enough kind
of chance, to have my mother realize what
she means to me…
because,
it’s impossible to show someone
you are a story to have never been read
had the author not dreamt you up.
there’s no equal value to life
when you realize your life was created
when she made you up -
Mom -
the epitome of selfless
tender
caring
hard
crazy
To woman who made me -
me.
thank,

You, Mom…