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Corporate America

I sat in a fossil like auditorium with the fragrance of significance brimming in the air, a middle aged man with a silver beard
unleashing his thunderous and stout voice
“Corporate America is a cult I don’t want to follow, she will entice you with her glitter and clown red lipstick, she will hike up her skirt for a glance but you will have to pay for the seductive dance, Corporate America has a stench and will leave an ill aftertaste, breathe in the sun and slowly walk through the hellacious gardens that will make you live again, Corporate America is a lethal injection without a needle, it’s an invisible blood stain on Mount Rushmore, it’s the catalyst for consumption with gallons of saliva, and by God everything you purchase with that plastic card all stays here when you are buried in that graveyard, Corporate America will disown your soul, spit in your eyes and fill your lungs with greed”
The silence reverberated and awakened us.

My books are available here.

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With bureaucracy, cities are filled with coal black odor and oily propaganda
With a nation split, curbsides are weeping
ignored tears
With silent voices, the suburbs are submerged in delinquent credit cards
With unlocked screens, cybersecurity is ringing in their ears
With devastation, vacant buildings are filled with cynical vagabonds

Within the letters from Johnson Boulevard
I can feel the thunderous chill
I can feel the drops of poverty hit the ground

With phobias, the empyrean is brimming with frozen echoes and hallucinations
With trampling chaos, wallets are vacant and figureheads spit out quarters
With melancholy, anklebiters and adolescences lose a pinch of oxygen
With blatant defamation, freedom is pulled and slapped
With misinformation, points of view are written with a vindictive tongue
With fraudulence, whispers and blackmail are sleeping in a king size bed

Within the letters from Johnson Boulevard
I can feel the winter’s nights subside
I can feel the battle’s fire descend

With deceit, finger pointing and raised eyebrows come with nail biting
With money laundering, hands of indulgence
are shaking
With bombshells, ammunition comes in diabolical forms
With sleep deprivation, insomnia is staring at the eyes of the moon
With coercion, manipulation is a bouquet of addictive flowers
With anger, the dust is swept away under a hand knotted rug

Within the letters from Johnson Boulevard
I can feel the pride sparkle like a star
I can feel the graveyard’s breeze glisten

With commentary, opinions shuffle and parade in the opaque air
With disregard, wings disintegrate and laughter is tossed in the dumpster
With hopelessness, arbitrary symptoms turn into a derogatory spell
With disinterest, the jargon is masked with ill conceived agendas
With double talk, the carelessness tone is at full volume

Within the letters from Johnson Boulevard
I can feel liberty silently falling from her cheek
I can feel the compassion scream as the ink dries

My books are available here.

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The dark side is gravitating
Scrambled thoughts of my reality
Playing with the toys in my closet
A world you could care less
Claiming to know me completely
You know what you want to know
My efforts to shed dead skin get unnoticed
I grin on the inside of these vandalized walls
We share a love that wears many disguises
that you refuse to see
You chose to see only a few layers of me
We display a miserable performance
Consistently staring into my silence
I can’t make you use your tongue
I will never be enough or give enough
You are as broken in pieces as me
You don’t know how to walk away
I dare you to walk away like the rest
The grin expects the unexpected
Can you spell the word depression
Waiting for God to take me away
You will understand me when I’m dead and gone
And give more of yourself to another man
The dark side is gravitating

My books are available here.

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Roaring parking meters

Stoplights slurring

Traffic jams sound like an arcade

Vendors flipping dollars

Counting change in thin gloves

Smiles parading like a festival

Inhaling the scent of hot dogs

Car doors slamming

Taxi cabs galore

Newspaper stands hand shakes

Concrete greetings

Tap dancing on pavement

Bartenders barking like a pit bull

Candy shops humming sweetness

Downtown in a ornament

Brick walls glaring spray paint

Little Anthony circling fire hydrants

Simone shouting obscenities

Dimes shoved in a jukebox

Ingredients of simplicity

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I will never forget the day I moved back home . I will never forget the sentence that broke my heart. “You will never set the world on fire.” The chip on my shoulder just became bigger. Perhaps he is just a realist. Perhaps he saw his son average. I’m not saying he didn’t know how to love and care. I’m not saying he was a bad father but I would NEVER tell that to my son.

Little boy the message here is that you can be what you want to be. You are going to make choices I probably won’t agree with at the moment but the belief in you won’t disappear. I want to do something that my father didn’t do, just understand you. Please don’t be afraid to open up. I don’t want to be a critical spirit like him and put your thoughts under a microscope. Your father is a writer at heart and doesn’t have support from those who I thought would support. I stand alone. You will never stand alone.