Categories
POEMS Storyteller

Endless Summer

This is the beginning of forever summer

Forever laughter echoing through the lush valley

Day dreaming forever ideas

Hoping that forever dreams come true

Forever emotion fade into the soul

Forever wanting peace of mind

Because where there is forever, there is always hope

Because forever lasts longer than this endless summer.

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Stories Storyteller

Breakfast Time on the Island

Morning have broken, the skies are slowly turning from gray to tropical blue. The rooster was perched in the plumb tree crowing its head off. The yard dog stood under the tree barking at it. A gray white cloud lazily floated across the sky. Island boy stretched and yarned, ahhh yes, it was the beginning of summer holidays. A whole summer to go simmer down on the beach, go diving, wind surfing, sailing, and lets not forget the cook ups on the beach. Ahhh some fried fish, fish cakes, lobster, crab and calaloo. Man, all this day dreaming about food was making him hungry. He looked around the kitchen, what will he have for breakfast this morning. Ahhh yes, some saltfish souse sounds real good this morning, fry it down with some onions, garlic, tomatoes and yes a little pepper. And I do believe Mommy Charles had made some bakes last night, that will go real good with the saltfish souse. Oh and yes, I can make a hot cup of coacoa tea to drink with that.

grated-chocolate

Yes, this was a hearty breakfast for a busy island boy.

Categories
Storyteller

This Kentucky Morning

These Kentucky mornings, right after the freeze of winter have kissed away the frigid mornings, right before spring whistles in the temperate winds across the Appalachian mountains. Mornings when the mist attempts to hide the trees that hibernate in the open winter air. Dark brown branches eagerly waiting for mother nature to give the order to spring lush green leaves. And then not even this fog can hide summer’s bloom.

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Pics with verse Storyteller

Dive In

Ahhh yeah man, jump in dey nah, let de ocean hug yuh like a lover on one ah dem frigid winter days. Like sipping  some cocoa tea in front a wood burning fyah. Standing in front of a fyah pit wid a cold drink in yuh hand. Sitting on yuh porch on a warm summer day. Drinking hot tea and feeling its warmth course through yuh. Standing in yuh kitchen while baking home made bread. Yeah man, dive in, even if it is in yuh imagination and ting.

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Storyteller

Impending Winter

As the mornings get cooler, and you can feel the first bite of pending winter, I refuse to let my summer go, ahhh the sun on my skin, the almost yellow world as sunrays reflect off the earth. Butterflies and birds flying around. Music from cars going by with their tops dropped. Mountain streams meandering, work on the feet as you walk through it. Blooming flowers across the fields. People fishing on river banks, or lakes. Ahhh yes, my endless summer will live in my heard through the silver grey winter.

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Storyteller

My Summer is endless

Ahhh please don’t go summer.

Categories
Storyteller

Its Monday Marning, Wake up me Raphie

Its Monday Marning, Wake up me Raphie

Raphie, Raphie, wake up nah mon, its summer time, no time for staying in bed and sleeping yuh know. Leh we go mon. I hear de rooster and dem crowing real loud, I smell de farmer burning de bush he just cut down.Mom get up nah, leh we go investigate de bushes, see wah kinda birds we go find. Mon yuh making me vex yuh know, I doh have time for yuh stupidness. Leh we go. I bet we go find some ripe mangoes, or some plumbs, or some gru grus, oh lard, me stomach rumbling, Yuh better get up before I get a bucket ah cold water and dash it on yuh. Wake boi, its time to go play in de words.

Categories
Parts Dirty Immigrant Storyteller

Ladies of the Night From the novel I am a Dirty Immigrant

There were lots of things about The Melting Pot City that fascinated me. For instance, the prostitutes. I had never seen that before so I took an interest in how and what they did. No, I did not indulge in their services. I am a people watcher. That is how I am able to write this fantastic book, right? We lived on Eastern Parkway between Utica and Rochester Avenues. Eastern Parkway was the biggest and busiest street I have ever lived on. I used to sit at the window and watch them, wondering why in the richest country in the world the women had to resort to this. They walked up and down the avenue in short dresses, uncomfortable high heel shoes and skirts so short you could see the beginning of their butt cheeks. Scores of cars with lonely men came and went. I mean, you should see them, looking around like cartoon characters, gripping their steering wheels, their eyes wide with lustful anticipation. I felt so sorry for these women. I wondered what they thought their life would be like. Were they victims of society or were they victims of cultural circumstances?

The most disturbing thing about this was that there was a pregnant woman out there. Car after car would pick her up. None of the men seemed concerned with her condition. I often wondered what sick bastard would take advantage of someone like that.  Our landlady would scream at them, calling them the worst names, as if they needed to feel any more degraded then they already were. My ex-wife and I felt compassion for them, so we let them sit on our car. They promised as long as they were there, no one would mess with it. That summer, with the constant complaints from the landlady, the cops chased them off. That very night, every car in a four block radius was broken into. Is it not sad how society, indoctrinated by judgmental ideologies, makes the people believe that these women were less than human? Truth is, their humanity was stripped by the same ideology that claimed to be virtuous. Just look at all the preachers and politicians who partake in the very same debauchery.