Children’s Hospital of Hopes and Dreams

Rainbow halls and cubical stalls
Ms Elliott’s smiling face
Pink Flamingo’s in Chen’s space

Nurses to the left, hearts full of love
“Hello Mary Lou”, he coos
Kim and Keetra, Diana too

Marianne, Sonia and Donna right there
Purple office is Ann’s, always will be
CDC peeps come next, Von, Waldo and Z

Social Workers en mass, near the fax
Courtney, Allie, Sarah
Albert, Cardia and Rashida

Jacquelyn’s gone now, sent to heaven…
Project CHAMP is down the hall
With Denise and Phyllis, and Donna’s stall

Debra having to hear me sing,
Julia sneaking in the back way
A different intern every day

Janique and Denise, come and go
Ebony behind the curtain… snore
Oh so very many more…

Five years is a long time
To share hopes and dreams
I sure miss my team


I’m getting the impression from the news media that New Orleans is ok, as long as people can get drunk and rowdy! Hell, as long as we have alcohol and women flashing their tits in public… the American dream is still alive and well.

Curious George

“People don’t need to worry about security.” George W. Bush

Ah, but we do Monkey Boy! You and your people have been telling us to worry about security for 6 odd years… You can’t have it both ways! We can’t rely on Dick Cheney for security, he only shoots American’s.

Attempts by you and Brokeback Cheney to get your terrorist/oil rich friends access to our ports will fail… I hope.

Yes Mr. President, we have to worry about security, you and Dick are busy shooting old men.

foster home

brown house now blue
gray hair then and now too
Ma in rocker knitting
Pa in recliner

fear crawls up my spine
my bags packed, all that is mine
social worker pressures shoulder
keeps me from running

dinner together, conversation and laughter
alien world, foreign notions – food a plenty
tears delay that first night,
though hard fought, buried deep

rules, responsibility, chores
wake up myself for school
wash dishes, mow lawns
allowance? what’s that?

foster brother and i
share smokes and stories
on the front patio
now enclosed, then exposed

three years teach me, show me love me
five years gone, back i come to make right
show them i’ve found the light
love unconditional, no exceptions

dc bound, to find my way
just call anytime
no questions asked
you can always come home

breast cancer scare,
tears unhindered
stream down my cheeks
fear strikes deep and hard

twenty years later, college bound
ma and pa, rhonda and greg
come to see the sites,
to see me off, wish me well, show me love

the family i didn’t choose
forced upon me by action of youth
became the one that mattered most
showed me the truth of love itself



Water streams down my smiling face, my bare feet slap against the blacktop. The cuffs of my jeans the darkest of blue, drenched from the endless puddles I’ve walked through. The Lightning flashes in the blackness and a trickle runs down my back, raising the level of excitement, the fun, the rain.


Cars drive through the puddles, sending a cascade of water on my slacks. My tattered blue umbrella-two of its spires bent and rusty-assist the water onto my pressed shirt. My rage rising with each drop of rain, my briefcase bombarded by the wind-comes undone. Papers float, just out of reach landing in the cold wet street.

Somewhere it all changed, rain ceased to be entertainment and became a nuisance. What was once a welcome friend, a refreshing play time, bogs me down drenches my work, my life and engages my rage.

I wish the rain would wash away the taint of man and return me to the time rain was a joy.

Half Way

Half way through the semester almost, the point where you can still withdraw without penalty from a class is nearing fast… But, so is spring break!

I’m having the write poetry for class, not to sure of myself, but I attempted to write three poems, one I don’t like at all… perhaps one more try.

Self defense is still kicking my behind, wow, its a real work out.

Cats are good, readjusting to life after dog sitting.

Gravity pulls on my eyes

The dog sitting is over, but the dogs did manage to wake me almost every day at 3:00 ish in the morning… as a result, my sleep pattern is a little wacky and i’m tired.

This morning snow is falling, the grasses and cars are covered with a light coat of snow and the roads are wet.

Nothing else new… but thought I’d better post something…


Ah Love!


Sure, it’s Valentines day and I could write about how wonderful it is that couples like Donna & Chris, Cristy and Peter, Mark & Robert, Michelle & Neil, Pat & Brenda, Suzanne and Randy, Zelda and Harlan all have their true loves at their side… YUCK! Screw you all!

Those of us single, lonely trying to stay warm with only the nearness of a cat or blow up doll as the case may be… WE are the ones that need something today… would a box of chocolates be out of the question for us loveless? Us forgotten? Us terminally single?

So take your flowers, your candies, and romantic dinners… food poisoning upon all of you, wretched, love struck fools!

Ah Love!

By the way, Happy Birthday Zelda!

Why I Hate Destiny

You do things for friends, things you wouldn’t normally do, like go to that wedding just so she has a date or eat at that restaurant that only serves fish when your allergic to seafood or watching her dogs while she’s on a cruise.

I’m not a dog hater, I like most animals and find they like me as well. Hell, I have two cats at home (Q and Mouse) who adore me. I love Suzanne’s dogs, Cotton and Simba and I loved Rocky… Its Destiny I hate.

Destiny, the Shih Tzu with the mother of all oral fixations, she’s been licking everything in her path for the last 12 years. She’s a black and white hairball totally dedicated to her mother. She knows she’s the queen bee, she is the favored, the one that goes with mommy on trips the one that is always on her lap.

Why do I hate her? Simple, at 3:02 a.m. she had a conversation with her siblings, placed a bet I’d wager…

“Want to get a treat out of Uncle Jamez?” she asked

Cotton and Simba both look doubtful that she can accomplish this task, but the confidence in her eyes persuade them to believe her.

“You two just play along, and we’ll have a week of extra treats and luxury, Uncle Jamez is easy.”

At 3:08 a.m. she sets her plan in motion, runs up to Uncle Jamez’s face and starts licking away, he pushes her away and says stop… not to be discouraged, she barks, not once or twice but 37 times right into his ear… the other two dogs, move around, Cotton paws at him and whimpers just a little… Simba, just standing up makes noise to wake war zone.

Sure enough, Jamez wakes up, assuming it must be 5:00 or 6:00 to let the dogs out for their morning business… but on his way he sees the clock… 3:10 a.m. Lets the dogs out anyway, lets them back in and sure enough gives them a treat….

This scene repeats at 5:00.


With Great Power…

The wind slams against frosted windows this February morning. The smell of a hickory fire, and sizzling bacon emanate through the kitchen, in my hand is a scalding cup of coffee, grounds from the bottom speckle my tongue.

The dog, Hermes, scratches feverently at the door, needing to do his business. Had I known he would be this much of a handful, I would have left him homeless on the street. I reach to scratch behind his ears as I rise, truly appreciating the companionship he offers, and open the door to the blustery wind long enough to let him out. As I sit to enjoy my bacon and coffee, I’m interrupted by the dogs barking, he can’t be done already, I know the cold must bite through his mane as it does my bones.

I arise to permit him back in, but as I do I see what the dog has been barking at… a woman, a white shawl covers her head and she is facing away from the wind, sheltering what I don’t know. Her shoulders slumped, head heavy, I rush out the door in my long johns to rush her in; the winter is enemy to all God’s creatures this day. I don’t notice until I’m upon her that she is black, a slave, a runaway perhaps.

Well, regardless of her color, she must come in from the cold. I cough to get her attention, the howling wind had masked my approach, as I cough she turns suddenly, almost dropping a package… a bundle, a child. God has sent me two lives this day.

I bring the girl child and her young into my home, Hermes following, tail wagging his message delivered.