Farewell, my End

I see You there

All skin and bone

Blowing ash as You sit

on nothing

Your squealing makes me weak

for You

I wouldn’t trade places right now

You played

And I stayed so put

‘Til I got to know myself

If only You hadn’t strayed

I wouldn’t have a bony heart

My heart could not follow

You underground

Thick You then were

Cutting through like You were in Class

Lover Bully

Then, You grabbed something else

Or someone else found You

Was the good prize worth it?

But, I promised to see You through

And through you are

I see you there

Still, you are not alone

The memories take over me

Sad, because you have them

All skin and bone

Love is above the law

What family

cannot walk up two flights

to my journey’s fine end


they come and go for me

Yet they do go

They allow collectors

my telephone number

Before they themselves call

Abandon is

the child they should have named after me

Such a bright smile

with purest joy

He’s family

A man dictates

in her own home

It’s his family now

The betrayal

of pleasuring to know someone


Family man

Wherefore art the others

who shed their blood

for blood

No photos please

Idle group hugs

appalls the High Priestess

until she can crop the photo

Can on something

end these Lycans

before they spread

Not even the moon wants to shine

without the sun

when they go on

Two flights too much

Like making a space trek

beyond their zone

Careful is the Bible

that opens to God’s favorite

Even it can blaspheme toward her

And them

Who keep focus on her

It is a right

to be a part of what

you helped create

Invisible contract that is signed in blood

No copies made

Only memories

And promises

None kept

Some kept

Most were broken


Try and again

Time and again

See hope falter

Feel fire

The winning vote

crumbled up in the wastebasket

where you name can be read

like a 30 year old mag

And there you sit

in the corner

Waiting for your name to be called


And more waiting

Then wrong number

Hope runs across the room

and appears

It’s late when Patience knocks

It’s late

Lights out

Turn the lights out

Be very quiet

You hold on to waiting

And don’t let go

Even when all the lights go out


The Coming Out Party

It’s time

Let the lights shine

Break out the Bacardi

All Hail the coming out party


Might not be a big thing

Why don’t you see what’s underneath

Jump up and down and sing

Why did Eve have to wear a leaf?


Times are changing

Not so much for the world

So the closets are flaming

Even children want to unfurl


Why hide so much

When all love is hearty

So much Sweetness to the touch

Time for a coming out party


Break the taboo

Was it really written in stone?

Powers that be don’t have a clue

They tap more than a telephone


Raise your voices

And take a stand

You have choices

Hold the same hand


What a treasure

Make their hearts see

Pleasure is the measure

Just join the coming out party




How Blue Bell turned me into a ‘Nana Puddin’ Junkie!

     Making the transition to the South was hard enough.  Leaving behind my mom’s historical southern flavor was enough to make me long day in and day out for home.  Upstate New York, sure there was a lot of cultural diversity…that is, museums, music festivals, but true conversation was never lacking.  As long as you definitely had something worthwhile to share, you were somewhat accepted.  Atlanta, Georgia had it all.  There, you wouldn’t have to look too hard to find an open cross-dresser, an open audition for a nondescript Tyler Perry film, a shopping mall that insisted on the valet of a Lamborghini, dog grooming salons that truly pampered your pooch in Hollywood glamour, and grocery stores with parking lots so clean you would think you had self-parked at a hotel resort.  ‘Nuff said, Atlanta was culture shock for the Northern Boy. 

     I managed to keep in shape.  Walking and a stellar gym membership became my pastimes.  That’s really how I kept up with the corporate Joneses.  Appearances meant everything in the new L.A.  Your reputation meant everything when it came to networking.  But, with keeping up appearances came the corporate dinners, albeit lunch or dinner.  For some, it was both.  I began to miss real flavor.  Just the first bar of my mom’s voice ached to ask her to FedEx a dinner my way.  There were a couple of places that came close to easing my homesick pain:  Mary Mac’s Team Room in Midtown and the Horseradish Grill.  Everything I ever devoured in the North was not all Southern.  It was just about the flavor.  That’s all.  And the only one who seemed qualified to satisfy me was my Mom.

     Maintaining my demeanor, I needed to relax, unwind.  It didn’t help any that Atlanta’s weather promoted even the chilliest of deserts – any time of the day or night.  I had always been a fan of Breyer’s ice cream in the North.  It was probably because it is the most widely distributed brand in the world.  While grocery shopping at Publix, the cleanest grocery store in all the South, one night after work (managing called for late hours), I found myself loathing the site of the salt-infested Breyer’s Butter Pecan ice cream that I had come to adore.  No other brands or tastes peaked my interest.  That is, until I noticed a yellow tub-container with a gold-rimmed lid.  It was Blue Bell.  It was Blue Bell Banana Pudding!  Had I found the flavor I was looking for?  Had I found that homesick replacement?   I couldn’t get home fast enough to tear open that sheer potential for goodness.  With the correct coloring, the moist but fresh vanilla wafers brought excruciating, yet delightful, joy to my palate.  I was hooked from the very first dip.  I found that I could eat this ice cream for breakfast.  Thank goodness my body didn’t welcome lactose intolerance.  But the late night night-cap in a Pier1 Import cereal bowl eased the discomfort of another busy day ahead. 

      I became so enthralled with Blue Bell’s Banana Pudding Ice Cream until I let all my northern friends and family members know what they were missing.  Some even asked if I could FedEx them a carton.  It wasn’t at all possible.  Soon, the thoughts of home subsided.  I would still frequent the popular restaurants in Atlanta…just as long as I could imagine what was waiting at home for me.  For six years, I continued the same routine:  working, dining out, Banana Pudding.  Notice I didn’t say, “working out?”  I did try to stay in shape by doing a few reps with free weights here and there, a few push-ups to keep the chest hefty, or even a few squat thrusts to…keep my pants up.  Once word spread about my newfound joy, I became delusional when I had to search different stores when Publix was out of my Banana Pudding.  The girls at the Customer Service Desk must have thought me neurotic the way I would nearly bang my head on the counter when they informed me of the next shipment of my fix.  Then, I was told that the drugstore CVS carried Blue Bell.  With gas prices not as high then as they are now, I didn’t mind going store-hopping.  CVS did charge a little more, but my CVS Advantage Card saved me considerably…at times.  It just didn’t save my waistline though.  My body seemed to had grown in the most obvious places.  I carried the weight of my world above and below my Coach belt.  I even began to seem more managerial to my guests.  All that weight was mistaken for solid muscle.  Okay, it still was muscle, but it savored a little something extra – like high-cholesterol, high-blood pressure, borderline diabetes.  I had suddenly contracted in the South what I should have contracted in the North because of Mom’s purity and sweetness.  Just when I thought the South would be my savior, it became my demise with the diagnosis of Blue Bell Banana Pudding Ice Cream.  Need I really say how much weight I bore?  Good.  Because it doesn’t matter.  All those wonderful years in the South found me now fleeing upward. 

     With age, you are not really expected to keep up the same look or physique from high school.  But I did exactly that while I was in the North.  One would think that as salty as any Breyer’s ice cream was I could have just been a catastrophe in the making.  Always on the go, always trying to be up on everything, maybe it was my mobility that kept me from falling earlier.  Once I became comfortable, I never really thought about the Joneses anymore.  My happiness was found in a bottomless tub with a gold-rim. 

     Back in the North, the absence of Blue Bell Ice Cream was both a blessing and a curse.  After so many years away, and the ceasing of praise towards such a culprit, Blue Bell could not be found.  I even wrote the President of Blue Bell, Corp. to ask as to when their brand could be purchased.  All I was told was that there weren’t any immediate plans to distribute it to the northeastern part of the country.  What a shame!  Even after my physical ailments cleared, I still found myself longing for the taste of Blue Bell’s Banana Pudding Ice Cream.  Because of all the work that is involved in the making of Mom’s own banana pudding, she couldn’t make it as often as I would like.  But she knows better.  Now, with the weight off and me back to my sociable self, I still crave my ‘Nana Puddin.’  I can’t even look at another kind or brand of ice cream as I did Blue Bell.  Its classy but deceptive packaging made me see just how much I have in common with the crack-head or recovering alcoholic.  I admit I am still a ‘Nana Puddin’ Junkie.  I really do hope there are no plans for Blue Bell in the Northeast.  If there are, I hope there’s a rehab facility that won’t laugh at my insurance plan.    


Man’s Own Box

Appearances are everything

Along with that

despite one’s name

shaven better than beard

endowed rather than not

Cold is like hot-headed

Shy is worthless

while quiet means nothing

to live without doing

Who wants that recipe?

Mankind wears a button

of those they know and love

and hate

Still, they are in the know



Lest one tries to produce

Failure is a label

worn after grief

Alas, appearances are everything

when we remind ourselves

that we are so worthy

Before Then

The Sunday Morning Conference Call

Was set in stone

Though they all could have been


They met

Unable to undo the hurt

And fear

they caused

to make the trees not want to grow

or the roses not want to bloom


the sun shining much less

and the moon crying for the stars

They were the universe

before the curse spelled out in verse

that it would no longer support

the full life span

created for woman and man

But as fear became hate

such vile would fill the plate

While their tongues become the scepters

to trade disgrace for taste

Not recognizing air

before egg on their face

The hour was near

Yet they all went fishing

Wickedly on

a Sunday Morning conference call

You took my breath away

Weddings at The Falcondale
Photo credit: The Falcondale

  Secrets you kept from me

Covered words all I could see

Polished smile

All the while

My mind was in denial


A hurtful touch

Laughed and hid so much

The mirror became my best friend

And showed me the beginning to the end

As the cracks began to mend


Always knew the right things to say

Always knew there’d be a better day

Always tried to dance right through the pain

Even after all the fire and the rain

Always knew how to pray

Like my mom did as she would lay

Gave you my life on a silver tray

But you just took my breath away


How could I bargain for this

All for a ring and a lonely kiss

Oh the life that I do miss

If only I could have one wish


I would know how to take my time

Stop, feel and listen

And not be so blind

Know just what I need

At the risk of my heart to bleed


Even the main people tell lies

And turn away with tears in their eyes

Pain never sees the light of day

When someone takes their breath away

Due Diligence

Garden of Eden 2009
Garden of Eden 2009 (Photo credit: NakedSteve)

What possesses a man to withhold life from another?

As floods rush in and level playing fields

It’s not just time with history to heal

Thunderous displays of shock invade the skies

Upending true wealth through uninsured lies

Animals we were given dominion over rebel from petting zoos

As if there weren’t enough clues

A Reversal of fortune as temperatures disguise the seasons

Excuses given as scientific reasons

Voices beckon acts of treason

Voices act and beckon treason

So many towers

above Babeling brooks

All hail the newest and most masterful of crooks

Fire starters allow the flicker to catch

Proof that earthly bondage has met its match

Years it took to puff up the bloke

Now gone in a flash, like Hades and smoke

Not as forgiven as a toe-curling pleasure act

Rumbling break in the soil engulfs all on track

Why should Zephyr winds just blow on high

when there is a lesson below to be learned through a cry?

He takes a pillage and calls himself the victor

Hunger and displacement rule laws of stricter

For all know that with a flick of the wrist and the pen

Devastation could meet its end

Only one could stretch out his arms and put us to sleep

That is why I pray the Lord my soul to keep

The power we give to our star-struck leader

is our blood-letting that strengthens the breeder

What possesses a man to withhold life from another?

look to the Garden of Eden and how a brother

turned his sister into a mother