She looks to the sun to feel alive . It escapes her still she searches for the sensation.
There was the feeling in her belly again churning emotional strains of the past.
Perhaps the rain falling on her skin will ignite the  dogma again.

She recites her system of beliefs as a mantra daily in her mind.
New paths into realms of spiritual awakening ever present, as per the quest.
Still searching still yearning for the lost sensation.

Time passes in a constant ever reaching end not yet in sight.
Solely  for this memory of a capsule of perfection and heightened ecstasy she pushes forth.
Nonce will the memory become her present , and it is in this letting go that perhaps it may find a way to her.

Again she looks to the sun in a completion of a heliocentric and ancient destiny.
As she marches on the sensation on her skin is returning and flowing from within her.
Fluorescent from her soul she flourishes again as if never on a quest for the lost core.

It is in the unity of her spirit and body that the whole is a satiated being yet again.

This is the warmth of the sun and the coolness of the rain, this is her soul’s equal being recognized.

For Kenneth

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The Fence

It was so white and bright as the sun with soft aged marks across it’s façade. There are naked, silly,and little creatures running behind it at all times of the day. If one walks past on any given day in the Summer there are varied heads popping up and down . Long locks of golden hair flowing in the warm breeze, and the sound of laughter.

The days run long into the evening hours filled with quirky sounds of pure joy! Oh to hear this noise again and see the blend of pink sunburned faces, with the copper skin all together zooming past full of energy! Boundless was the ability to jump and skip over the flower beds and bushes.

Oh the days seemed so long and full of promises of endless adventures in the sun. The pies of mud made with water then baked in the rays. Dogs running around and under Chasing and pulling of braids. Duck Duck Goose!  Red Rover! Kick the Can!

I remember do you?




Queen Among Us

In the morning the sun would catch her skin with a glow on it that would catch his eye from a distance. When she smiled it was as if her teeth illuminated her whole face. The contrast on that dark brown flesh with them really was quite amazing. She would tend to the clothes on the line lost in thoughts known only to her.

Every soul has a tale to tell and a road to follow, but sometimes two people take that same walk together. It may not be journey that is expected and it might not even be the one they want. However one travels it is always a gift and a monumental triumph of survival. As a person lives they learn and gain an understanding of knowledge that is cumulative and earned.

Her tale was not one of luxury and ease. The way she carried herself was a struggle and a fight, yet she cherished it all every single day of it. In her life there are many lessons learned and not a one was ever lost. As she would stand on the corner for the bus she held her head high with an inner pride that came through her eyes sharp and bright. As she boarded the bus she handed her ticket to the driver who didn’t want to touch her hand. Not once did she give a sign of offense or shame she was strong that way.

When she walked to the back of the bus she smiled with joy at who she was and knew inside she was a queen. Her soul was not weary and her love of self was solid. First to offer her seat to another if they were older or sicker she was selfless. As the rest of the people took no notice she felt a sense of righteousness inside.

As her stop came up she gathered her belongings and headed to her destination. Walking down several dirt roads for no less than four miles in sweltering heat she would arrive at the large expansive plantation to start her work. For ten hours she was the woman who cooked and cleaned for her wages. She was hired help to the plantation owner and his family, but to her own she was everything.

When the night would lay its blanket of darkness upon the day she would leave once again. She would walk back down the same dirt roads for four miles all over again. Entering the bus once again the driver not wanting to touch her hand, she walked to the back of the vehicle once again for her ride home. This woman with her dark brown skin and vibrant smile would work for you, cook, clean, and sometimes… even raise your children. She was enough of a person to suit your needs of convenience and be in your home, but not enough to ride next to you on the bus.

Through it all she carried herself with a graceful manner and dignity that rivaled royalty. She was a lesson in humility to anyone who knew her. A queen with a kingdom long-lost, but inside her veins flowed the blood of a warrior full of strength. She was Africa and the mother of all life, she is me, she is you she is strength in the wake of a struggle. Her journey was long and hard with tribulations beyond the measure of today.

Her life is our lesson in knowledge and her road traveled is the reason we arrived. She lives in us all still, and always will she is you, she is me.

The Dock

It stretches beyond the marsh far past the pines and palms.

Leading out to the water’s depths in a flowing path of aged oak.

I smell the salt in the air the swirling of pampas grass is heard all around.

The light of the shrimper giving off a faint and constant red hue to the night.

It is here that I feel at peace to feel the wood under my bare feet, and the swaying of the pilings gently easing my worries away.

A constant calm is the inviting elixir of the Southern Marsh and all the power she beholds is found  here on this dock.

It is not a new structure it has been weather worn for quite some time now, bleached from days in the sun and tides of saltwater rising.

Dry and blanched is her appearance to most eyes, yet to me the beauty is in her age.

Some of the nails have rusted and corroded as do most metals in the salty air that is thick and lain all around.

I have bathed and basked on the boards alongside the splinters and rust and would wish it no other way, for to replace and rebuild upon this relic of a dock would change it forever.

In this ever-changing landscape I find solace in this remnant of the past and it is here that my mind will visit long after it is no more.

The Dock


Crooked Smile

Little one all alone in the world smile so big and bright. Not a vision of perfection but of the wonderful combination nature creates in each individual.
Her eyes are so blue that one can swim inside of them in various shades of azul. Speaking volumes of emotional loss and the ever-cycling sadness she has lived.
It is in this face crooked smile and all that a mere tale of survival evolves. To blindly look into these two orbs of blue, leaves a person exhausted, from the emotional drain they seem to create.
Was she aware that these pools of hers caused such an incredible reaction in the soul of all that delved into them? Perhaps these are the tools she was granted by  GOD to avenge any injustice she faced.
It is said that the deep blue ocean swallows even it’s own when angry…is her retribution one of anger after all her azul eyes have witnessed?

Your Eyes

                                                                                      YOUR EYES
I see in the mirror these two pools of blue. They shine and reveal reflective light so bright I wonder if what they have witnessed shows. At times they seem to be those of another. An old soul from a time past. It is as if they are telling a tale from another’s life experiences. I think of the sights they could have seen. The wars, the hunger, and the pain and I remember they have seen all of these and more.
My eyes have been present for the wars of lands far away and the death of loved ones, and the passing of time through the changing of generations. All this and more have been seen through my eyes. I look forward via my eyes yet they are so much like yours I see you in them.
This is why I  never feel alone without you in the flesh here with me. Because of your eyes I can see you in my own. All because of Your eyes.


                                       I CRAVE
I desire, I love, I crave, I long, I wail, I sequester, I surrender , I live. Yes I am alive and ache for you at dawn. I ache for you at night’s fall. 
Lover come, lover go, lover hover over me drain my soul once more. Leave me void only to come once again and make me whole.  
The bellows from within call out to the land’s vast range, searching for the fulfillment that this craving demands. Lover it is you this power which you hold unto yourself. Never let me go. I am your pawn in seduction of the heart.
The sun rises once again and it is you, lover that burns within. I Crave once more this cycle of  bondage is yet again born anew under the sun’s rays.
I crave yes I crave lover never forsake my soul in this love I shall stay and dwell forever bound. I crave I crave I crave. 
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As I stood among them I felt as if it was me that was fading away into the vast space of History. All at once it hit my heart and mind, like a massive wave washing away all previous life. It is now the time to accept the mass populous and the ideology of a land once thought to be seperate from America. 
She still accepts the masses of hungry, eager, down-trodden,and weak. This is the reason that I stand amongst chillis and platanos in my grocery store. I crave not for spices of the habanero or the maize flour for tortilla soup. I long for my Yoo-Hoo artificially flavored chocolate drink. I scream out loud for the days long gone of simply going to the grocery store for a Moon Pie with marshmellow in the center and speaking in my native tongue.
My language was called English and we spoke it as a proud people called Americans. Everyone would gather at the mall and speak this language and shop with each-other. We all shopped at the local Wal-Mart (now known as little Mexico), there was a variety of foods to buy from things called FARMS where food stuffs grew in the American soil.
Yes it was a time alright in this happy land where English was both spoken and…UNDERSTOOD! Spanglish was never heard of and all the produce was NOT spicy! Oh it was a day to live in he land called AMERICA I relish in the memories and long for those days gone by. I must now dwell amongst the people of a land I know not called MEXERICA where she speaks another tongue and her food is that of a land foreign to me, where I stand like an Amazonian princess in my stature amongst the little Mexerican people.
Oh to be AMERICAN in this land seems so strange to me. I do not belong in this odd land of MEXERICA. Where I ask where is my AMERICA? Has she foresaken me did I let this happen? American ME that is what I am and will always be. I hold dear her memories for she was a beauty…AMERICA, I weep for she.
Jennifer O’Neill


A child comes into the world as a new being untouched by the force of life’s pain. All is yet to be seen through the tender eyes of a child. Through a Father’s  eyes the world around him he sees with jaded sense.
As the boy grows into a man he begins to look at his life with his own view. The struggle of the two ensues. Father to son the rivalry is abundant nonce does lay down untill…this man is grown.
Every battle between the two has left behind in it’s path the brutal mark of insecure feelings, hatred of self, and confusion with the lack to understand both loving, and how to love. Life i lived onward bound go the two into the future never once slowing down in their vicious path. Hurried lives lived never knowing the fate that was to be bestowed upon them both.
He is fading fast. For a fleeting second the Father is seen as a helpless victim of the cruel ways of nature. But for the moment his weakness has passed he seems to regain his lion’s strength. The Son is again under this great man’s domain as always…FATE HAPPENSTANCE.
he is quiet now, for this leader full of his own conviction  is alas all but a mere memory. For only if they had each known the quest would end so soon with as much vigor they may have loved a different way.
He sits alone now and thinks of this badge he carries on his heart it is one of pain and love. Struggle as he might he has no direction void of his ruler. Life is a mere passing of the years since the Father has passed. He fights to live and be loved as well as he is able and at times forgets the true meaning of this journey called life.
Regrets are all around yet to forget them would be to move forward absent of the Father . To create a life anew he must remember although theirs was a strange and at times volatile love, it was LOVE and for this he hould alaways feel the ams of the man he called FATHER around his very essence.
No oneman is a perfet being thereore to know he is loved is a monument to those he left behind in this life on Earth.
In honor of James Pendergrass a man among the common folk that rose to greatness in his own lifetime.
Jennifer O’Neill
For you, David


I take into my lungs the esscence of life. I struggle to exhale, yet to do so is to let him go. For it is he who is my very breath,the air,sun,moon, and The Milky Way itself. It is this one that I endure for. I can feel it on the back of my neck. You, lover it is all you. The chills I feel are the sensation I crave and it is from your body that I receive the warm breath.
I am rendered but a mere pawn in the wake of warmth upon my nape. This essential desire this ever present desire may it never cease to exist between us. Longing for the breath of him to surround my being. In a warm blanket of love and emotion I am enveloped by him.
What it is I would’nt do to grasp at this breath of his, even give up my own to feel his once more. Lover I do pine for thee in my dreams. In my room you leave behind the vapor of your soul. Never alone am I with this wonderous trail.
Lover I am with no breath of my own since you… I shall wait in anxious anticipation and angst I remain true for with out you I am BREATHLESS.
Jennifer O’Neill
For my future someone.