Killer Date



Pressure builds in my temples
Sweat dampens my forehead
Something’s wrong
The clock is bleeding
Seconds ooze from the wound
And that sound so loud
Distorted annoying ticks
Echo in my cerebellum
My mirrors are disabled
A shadow of myself
Incomplete and hungry
Driven by anger past
Seduced by revenge
I search out my prey
Make him pray, make him pray
Hiding behind the oak tree
The dark shade of coincidence
Breathing so shallow
Trembling but quiet
Watching the trap I carved
Stealthily awaiting the fly
The park is my graveyard
A faint noise
Footsteps in the pathway
I wait without movement
The figure looms near
Its him! He’s the one!
Violator of innocent lambs
Taker of our purity
Strutting in vanity
On his green mile walk
He becomes me today
Blood on the milk train
Absorbed into my breasts
So I can sate the monster
And taste my revenge
Until the next feeding

The Strength Of Women Hear Them Roar




I went to my first sit in in 1967 during a nationwide protest. As cool as it was to be leaving a Jr. High class with all the swagger of a false rebel I was profoundly effected by the movement. I saw first hand what power of the people meant, the power of unity, and the importance of standing up to any injustices I was confronted with. This movement went much further than just protesting the Vietnam war. I was hooked, more sit ins, be ins, and peace rallies followed. I quickly became a real rebel.

Yesterday I was overloaded with rebel pride when I went into New York City to join the March for Women’s Rights. I always believed in the strength of women but they really blew me away when I saw they had the power not only to stand for their own issues but they also had the love and strong shoulders to absorb so many others causes along with their own and turned it into a march and rally for all of humanity. Every race, religion, class, and gender were given equal status, and all were represented. They proved that it doesn’t matter what your background or political affiliation is but what matters is that as a human being we have compassion for each other and the planet we live on.

So I thank all who marched and/or supported the amazing peaceful movement our sisters have started and I applaud the strength of my sisters everywhere and ask that you don‘t let it stop there. Become a joiner and supporter of destroying any injustice anywhere and become a pain in the ass to your elected officials, they work for us. Most important, get out and vote every chance you get, let your voice be heard in every way possible. Real men make quiche and are inspired by strong women, not intimidated by them. Real men don’t feel the need to brag about the size of their hands but are willing to show the size of heart to all.
Live and Love in Peace

The Caregiver



I worked in two different nursing homes during age16 through 22 and they both left many lasting impressions on me. I started out in the kitchen but quickly found myself on the floor flirting with the nurses and the aides, which earned me jobs like vacuuming and helping wherever. I did any shit work the nurses could find for me, like helping with enema’s. That wasn’t the end of the shit either. I was given caretaker charge of a man confined to a wheelchair who had a severe stroke. Bathed him, shaved him, and dressed him. He was young enough to be embarrassed having female aides do the chores so I became the best part of his morning when I worked that shift.

Archaic living statues
Wearing ancient masks
Reflective and forlorn
Performing aimless tasks
Not conscious of the world
But conscious of their fate
They have nothing to do
So they wait
Its all they do
All night, all day
Its all they have left
Even the memories begin to fade
The tears they paid
So they wait
They wait for me
The caregiver
For sustenance
For medication
They praise my dedication
All they have left is to wait
To be told what to do
They wait for me, caregiver
The one who holds their heart together
Informs them of the weather
They wait for me forever
Sometimes I come in the morn
Wake them from their sleeps
Change the wet sheets
Dress them for the day
Give them their pills
Chase their blues away
The way in which we planned
Breakfast tray in hand
Sometimes I come in the afternoon
Put on their favorite show
Just let them know
Someone cares
Then I wait to go home
To a life so removed
From the pain and the heartache
Of the aging machine
The horrors I’ve seen
Time can be so mean
Memories broken like in a dream
These grand folks I cherished
I watch as they perish
But each day I come back for a little while
Covering profound sadness with a smile
Knowing what’s on their minds
Though they really can’t define
They just wait
But its not the food, medicine or even me they sit in anticipation of
They’re waiting to die
And that makes me cry


The nurses told us not to get emotionally attached to the patients but we had so many favorites, cute old people who were left up to our care because fore the most part their families abandoned them. I was struck by how much they looked forward to our shifts as though they were visits, how we brightened what little life still sparkled behind their eyes, and I realized we were more than caretakers of their health, we were caretakers of their hearts. Ironically they in turn helped to fill our hearts up with love and gratitude. It was like having 20 of my grandma’s back, and I would give anything for just one more day with my Grandma. I would be happy to be her caregiver.

Culture Profiteers




(A POV beat street piece to honor MLK)
They kept us enslaved
Deprived and depraved
Drowned us to death
In the blood we had paid
Now you cross the street cause the snowflakes afraid
Weighted with guilt from the whips they had made
Yet you market hip hop fashion in a pretty array
Selling our culture and stealing the pay
Cashing in dollars off of cultural poverty
Marketing the onus of black urban novelty
Selling our fates like you think we still property
Years of oppression as your corporate commodity
Give us headlines in black about murder and sodomy
When it came to reparations its seems you forgot me
Shackled and hassled and profiled in black
Handcuffed and choked or shot in the back
Throwing us pennies while you take the stack
Till the only way out is dealing in crack
Erupting underground in exploding seismology
Turning us into some urban mythology
While brothers and sisters unclaimed in pathology
Lie there dead awaiting an apology
This ain’t no rocket science psychology
Inequality in myopic dollar visionlogy
Just corporate America trading and selling hysteria

White hood on a head, bible in hand
Burning white crosses in our holy land
Running away as quick as you can
Back to your church to make a new plan
Ethnic ferocity is that all you got for me?
Bible revival a Christian held lottery
Killin’ our children just don’t seem like god to me
My people are undying you don’t think that bother me?
You languish in gold an economic prodigy
Skipping over the part of your inhuman atrocity
Slavery was our odyssey and you ain’t the boss of me
It all seems so odd to me
Like the world is on fire
Claiming racism has expired
But the hatred still burns like a funeral pyre
With the conniving prejudice living and thriving
Whites kids bopping and jiving while black Moms sit home a crying
Choking on the metaphoric noose where children keep dying
It really stung when condemned our young
Then watered the tree’s where our ancestors hung
Locked us behind bars made of lily pad fear
Brown and black wearing the new orange gear
You think we nuthin but dealers strung out on dope
Climbing your picket fence dream to rob you of hope
But we work we live and we breathe and walk the tightrope
Profile us to stand like a guilty sculpture
Pockets picked by a Wall Street vulture
Its so stressful it give me an unccer
Profiting from the blood and tears
Of African culture

End Of This Game



When all that remains
Is what’s gone by
And darkness fills up the light
Will the records show
He tried hard to glow
Burning a candle to brighten the night
When the clock runs out
Will the people shout
He wanted it all but he did without
But looked down and sighed
Just could never apply
He once had it but now he doesn’t
When it comes down to goodbyes
Once the wells have all dried
Please remember he tried
Just couldn’t be what he wasn’t
So when the ease of his pains
Become dusty remains
Will anyone still softly whisper his name
Or will they laugh at his fate
After such a tedious wait
To reach the end of this game

The Road Ahead




Today we look in the rearview. For many of us we see a number of accidents behind us, swerve marks and maybe a few skids off the road, but that’s in the past. Don’t stare into that mirror for too long because the road in front of us is still dangerous and we are certain to come across many reckless drivers and challenging lane shifts. Our route needs to be negotiated thoughtfully and carefully. Fill your gas tank with hope, your tires with determination, and drive with caution, purpose, and love and always drive toward peace. We are all sharing the same road. Have a happy and prosperous new year….
Live and Love in Peace

The Existential Baker