The New New Yorker

I am the new New Yorker.

Still excited by all of the lights.

Never upset about being lost.

Rarely in a hurry.

I try to blend in.

I try not to look up.

I try not to let on that I’m new.

They know.

I am the new New Yorker.

Still maintaining my impeccable drive.

Never afraid of strangers.

Rarely passing up an opportunity to go out in the city.

I try to take my time.

I try not to shop.

I try not to use google maps.

They know.

I am the new New Yorker.

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Dream #10

I could feel myself melting all over the ground like a chocolate kiss in the palm of a hot hand. He would talk and talk and talk. He would rhyme from time to time. Not like a poet or rapper. Just random rhymes. I had to pay attention to speak his language it was expensive. First I had to establish the currency pounds, euros, francs sometimes dirhams.

His tirades were unending, “People like us are bright. Like all the little lights flickering over that hill at night. Like glitter they shine when the light hits them just right. You should shine more. Don’t let life dim your life. You seem so sad and beautiful. This combination won’t allow me to ever love you. Hello? How long will you act like you can’t hear me? We’re gonna be here for a while. No one will save you. Don’t believe the hype.”

“I hear you.”

We sat side by side on the screened in porch. Blackened by the moonlight his face was cut into a million spiteful shadows. I was left trying to put all the pieces together in the dark.

Living the life a gentlewomen forced me to act out my role. However, playing my part often left me upstaged.

I inquired, “Where’s the point in pretending?”

He replied, “Right next to the fun in forever.”

I couldn’t fault him for capitalizing on this young castaway. I know when I’m wanted and when I am not. I was forced to stay and everyday it grew harder to pretend. Marked with scarlet letters birds of similar feathers sat together high on the hill in the silence reminiscing on their respective past lives separately. Hope once again was gone with the wind.

Dream #9

Dream #9


Here goes nothing.


I sojourn until I discover a worthy reason to stop.

In the heat and in the cold.


I was on my way in a hurry no where

when she stopped me and we sat,

on a bench by the beach. The sea was still.


The world just the same rotates,

leaves continue to fall as prices rise.

I told her the truth about heaven and

I told her at the end of the day I’m me.


What’s left when the truth is free?

You won’t know till it happens to you.

I sat and searched for a message in the bottom of the bottle,

until it was time to fallback.

It’s November again and I aim higher.


“What are you worried about?”

She asked over and over.

I still had no answer.

“Your guess is as good as mine”

Unsatisfied with the statement she stared into responding.

I stuttered “It’s the world.”


Excuses, excuses, EXCUSES!

“Spare me the hurt,” she insisted.

I tried to look out my dirty glasses.

Secretive, strange, and salty.

“Don’t worry, it’s a waste of time” she hissed as she walked on by.


Regrets are hard to forget.

Time will tell and pass, as time does.

Don’t expect anyone to save you.

All alone at the end of the day I’m me!


They sky was red.

She practiced her violin by the water’s edge.

I wish someone would have told me it’d be like this.


You learn, you’ll learn, you will learn.

Wondering and wandering.


I tried to open my eyes but I realized I didn’t know me very well.




King in 1967: My dream has ‘turned into a nightmare’ – NBC

It’s not easy being a dreamer.

King in 1967: My dream has ‘turned into a nightmare’ – The Daily Nightly.

Dreams #8

My dreams are brighter than me,

so I often sit and watch and listen.

Boom … boom … boom!

Footsteps from behind,

but I was afraid to turn and look.

Then I was mad at myself for being so shook.

Fear is a waste of time.

Surprises can be overwhelming.

“You’re suppose to be here to help me.”

The warm rub on my shoulder

was reassuring.

Before I could open my eyes

we were falling.

He held me as we fell

and repositioned himself to take the brunt of the impact.

He suggested, “rest your mind, go to sleep.”

I didn’t have the energy to argue.

He felt something like a blanket

swaddling my senses.

Caught out in the cold so many times.

This was the warmest I had ever felt.

It was more than I could have wished for.

It was the most beautiful sleep I had ever experienced.

No dreams just sleep.

I awoke excited to escort my eyes

towards the snug creature.

I tried to decide what I was willing to give up,

a kiss, just a hug?

I rubbed my right hand over the softness for confirmation.

A kiss! I decided in that very second.

My left hand wiped the sleep from my eyes

and I yawned with a loud sigh.

The wind blew beautifully.

Yellow, black, brown, and

orange hairs tossed in the wind.

Then he turned his head to me yawning

and terror overtook me.

His head, tongue and teeth

shattered the sense of comfort I felt moments before.

He shook his black and brown mane.

“So now you’re afraid? Now you fear me?”

I was slow to speak. I don’t want to anger the animal.

“I should have never opened my eyes“ I murmured.

He rolled away from our embrace

and stood up strong like lions do.

It was too late to pretend.

“I’ve given you no reason to be afraid.”

He was right and I was instantly ashamed.

He did not look like my dream but he felt like it.

I reached out to caress his mane and he stepped back.

I tried and failed again.

I couldn’t let a good dream pass me by. Not after the nightmares.

I ran and jumped on the enormous wild cat

and hung from his neck until he gave up and purred in my ear.

As bad as I thought it was,

it was never that bad.

I closed my eyes and rested in the masculine scent of his golden fur.

The moonlight behind us brought an end to another lovely dream.

Dream #7


It’s hot as hell and humid too.

Is it ok not to be okay?

Should I believe you?

I threw the signal in the air and waited

by the beach for the hero.

What good will a selective savior

do for someone in my condition?

I crave consistence.

Yet I listen to my conscious.

Tick, tock, tick, tock.

The tide rises with the disappointment

I attempt to hide.

It’s two o’clock.

Where did he go?

Where is the hero?!

Turtles nesting, bringing life.

My mind is racing, my body resting.

Time to refocus.

Hoping for the hero is hopeless.

I suck it up,

digging my hands in the sand.

Sitting in thought stirring it up

like sugar in the bottom of sweet tea.

The tide has arrived.

I’m ankles deep in it.

Is this how insanity feels?

Maybe the hero stopped believing.

Is he on the other side of this ocean grieving?

Perhaps the hero grew tired of being great,

and lost all his magic.

Or he ignored my sign,

and saved someone else…

Tick, tock, tick, tock.

7:52 or eight to you.

I may starve waiting to be fed.

Could this be my epiphany?

I’m done believing.

Sometimes hope isn’t enough.

Now is the time to depend on me.

Dream #6

I closed my eyes and I fell.

At first I rolled.

Then I began to bounce.

Before I knew it I was free falling.

Or maybe I was floating?

I’m not sure how, why, or when,

but eventually I came to a full stop.

I crashed right into you.

You stood firmly attached to the ground,

as if you owned it. No renting.

No hurricane, tornado, or earthquake

could shake you. You smelled of man.

I felt stronger than ever before

simply standing next to you.

After all that I’d been through

I was more appreciative

than I ever imagined I would be.

Standing next to you.

Silence shrieked between the two of us.

We were the only ones around.

Words weren’t necessary just brown eye language.

We stood in a comfortable silence

for centuries until you closed your eyes.

Once they opened again they were green.

You changed. But that’s life and that’s love.

And then you inquired, “Where to next?”

So I answered, “Where we begin.”

And stillness was our move.