Black and White in color

QUESTIONS FOR A RESTLESS MIND

Why in the middle of the night?

Long after The noise of the day has faded and is sleeping quiet under the stars do you wake?

Why do you want to wonder and sort?

Why now?

Why when sleep is on everyone’s mind and dreams are yarning adventures of big breasted woman riding unicorns must you sort the dirty laundry?

Why now?

What is it about this hour?

Is it the coffin dark of night that makes you squirm?

Is it the fear of the quietness that makes you wake the Skeltons?

Why do you need to beat the dead horse?

Why right now?

Why don’t you sleep?

Why don’t you rest?

Why try to figure out a cure for cancer or a solution to the homeless or where to go when the earth quake hits and how long can I survive under water?

Why question the meaning of life?

And why must you figure it out now?

Why face your fears?

Why question God?

Why think of the neighbors ass?

Why replay the b side?

Why make a grocery list for the good kind of bologna?

Why plan for the future?

Why crave pizza and an egg roll?

Why morn my dead mother, my aunt, my uncle, my grandmother, grandfather and best friend,

Why now?

Why not sleep?

why not just fucking sleep?

IS THERE WISDOM IN AGE ?

The human form is always a work in progress, from birth to death, a constant change in style, outlook and attitude, we are ever evolving, constantly turning into some older more beautiful version of ourselves.

as we age our physical being takes a back seat to our inner beauty and over time we become the hot mess of life’s experience, joys and traumas.

We become ourselves, we become aged with life and wisdom, we learn that our appearance is not the currency we once thought it was.

We become wise with knowledge and have the ability to show the inner beauty we were always told to hide.

Every line on our face, every bump, bruise and scrape is a beauty mark, a badge of life, a medal of earned experience.

Wisdom and love is the new twinkle in our old eyes

Our beauty is internal and eternal.

The beauty of life is in the struggle...the things we overcome makes us more resilient...

the fears and anxieties disappear with each experience... looking into the eyes of the unknown and taking a leap of faith is most freeing and most rewarding....

we are creatures with a primal instinct to fight to the death....Tap into that hidden power ...when you are at the lowest of lows keep looking and reaching for what’s inside you to help pull you up.

We are designed to do great things our inner voice has to be on the same page.

Embrace your struggle it’s your life’s lesson and it’s meant to teach you what you need to share.

Your problems create a solution...that solution is your gift to the rest of us

I ONCE WAS A DAD

Each night as I tucked you in I realize that the little boy will grow up and be a man....I wonder if you will remember...Will you remember the fun times that went by....The times we watched cartoons and laughed out loud....Will you remember the times you created your own words and phrases that we only understood....Will you remember the time you gave me your last blue m and m.....How you would get hurt and look to me to make it better....Will you remember tickling my big nose while I slept...Will you remember me teaching you the abc’s and the bad words that mad your mom mad.....Will you remember asking me to make your binky appear from out of your ear....How you would beg me to tell you scary stories and plead with me to stop... Will you remember how we would sing in the car like dorks....Will you remember calling me your bestest buddy....Will you remember our favorite funny commercial...How you ate all your dinner and told me im the best cooker man in the whole wide world....Will you remember me holding you down and giving you a 1000 kisses,.... will you remember how you would take a fit and work my last nerve, and me loving it......Will you remember running to the door to greet me after work and jumping up on me and giving me a big hug and a kiss...will you remember eating chipped beef on toast....Will you remember untying my dirty work shoes and taking off my stinky socks.....Will you remember watching me shave and asking me if it hurts my whiskies... Will you remember building a tent out of pillows from moms bed and getting in trouble....How we ate candy and ice cream till we got sick....Will you remember me telling you I love you a million times more then there are stars in the sky. ...You might forget these things, but the memory will be forever locked in your heart And will show up in your dreams, and stay with you forever....i love all my little boys…I will never forget any of the moments that made me a man

UNHAPPY FATHERS DAY

Just because i have six sons dont make me a father. none of my kids talk to me. I was a young father and didnt make time for my kids, i was self absorbed and selfish.

Its a dysfunction handed down from my grad father to my father to me. My ole man who is 88 didnt talk to his father. I haven’t talked to my father for 30 years and some if my kids i haven’t seen or talked to in over ten years. Sure i love my kids that’s natural. But i never loved them like a father should. I have been successful in so many things and none of the success will ever over shadow my failure as a father. There isn’t a day that passes that im not preoccupied wondering, hurting and punishing myself for not knowing the damage i was causing. It is a mans biggest failure to not step up to his responsibilities as a father. My kids are men now in their mid to late thirties. They are not kids anymore. All that time i said i was gonna make up for not being thete..never happened my lies became their reality and they grew up and i didnt. The birthdays the handholding the tuck you in at night stories that i never was there for is a constant reminder of my ignorance. But the disappointment i made my kids feel became who i am to them. I did this, i made the choice to live a fast life and let others pick up my mess. I fathered six kids but by no means am i a dad

FOLDING SOCKS

After school was never peanut butter and jelly

The tension in the house made the shag in the carpet stand at attention

Spic and span and the smell of i hope your in a good enough mood to eat, simmered cooking on the stove

And downstairs, in the basement, her back to me she sat folding socks

Unaware of the old steps creek, i sat to have a chat

Before i could ask, i could see the ripped socks in the trash

Up the steps i inched, as if i walked in on something not meant to be interrupted

I never thought of her as old or being alone...the bare bulb exposed all of it

Shadows of tears wiped with socks, how odd i thought

Ripped and frayed… she always said the dryer fairy took the odd socks twin away



ALONE AGAIN NATURALLY

Having 6 sons with three women and Being married to two of them for 42 years of my 66 years on this earth. I have been loved and i have loved. The hardest thing i have to adjust too is not being last. I havent delt my self first in a long time. I forgot myself in putting them first and i loved being last. I have a hard time being with myself. A sense of undeserving. A need to self punish. I have no responsibilities no weight of the day to day. I dont share in a rotine. Im not homeless but im without a home. I wake up and the day is mine. I have no where to go but everyplace is on my map. I feel i am at the bottom of the mountian with a thousand roads to the top. I am preparing my self for one more walk to the top. Pain is fuel. Determination is my engine. And killing my dragons and deamons is my final battle

ITS MEANT FOR ALL TO WITNESS

I walked through the mall today and i overheard a man tell his quadriplegic son “ I love you more than anything” as the boy lay prone in his special motorized chair and dad was lovingly spoon feeding his boy ice cream ... going up the escalator I overheard a man tell his woman “I love you be careful I’ll see you when I get home” and kiss her on the back of the head and I watched her turn to smile at him and in an instant his face lit up

Just because it’s not said to you, its meant for you to hear

Love is not words.

Love is a feeling that who ever gets close enough can’t help but feel it

Love finds those seeking it

Truth attracts love

I love you

It’s that easy

MORE DAD STUFF

my son in collage asked me to right down his favorite lecture that i would bombard him with all the time...we called it the iphone effect his instructions were just write they way you do and as if you are talking to 50 kids around his age..17-20...

this is what i gave him

success

we see the decline of the long haul. we have no time for the natural gestation of things, we even figured out how to plant a seed and make it grow faster....but there has to be something to say about the lack of sunlight that faster growing plant gets.....no one wants to put time in...the 10,000 hour rule has been forgotten we are a society of instant gratification...its everywhere...corporations don't want to spend the time building a good product and a good brand and selling to generations, instead they plan to build the cheapest thing that will break and if they go out of business they will pop up under a different name, just to lure you back...the small business owner has stopped shaking hands with its patrons and keeping up a higher standard, building a trust with people is not even thought of, instead its bait and switch and profit, and the customer is never right...we see it as individuals, separation of class, race, whatever we can come up with to separate us from who we think we don't want to be associated with....everyone wants to be rich and successful ..now... today, no matter how you define your success... it has to be today and with little to no work...what the fast paced world of modern technology don't show is the hard work the real successful people had to do, people really believe that an overnight success is actually overnight and they are pissed off when they wake up and it didn't happen....some have no clue that the 10000 hours spent learning a craft or a trade is what it takes at a minimum to master something, you don't see that years of education counts...that cultivating friendships and having a reputation of trust and loyalty takes years of doing trustworthy and loyal things...its not a few likes on a page or a retweet...what is missing is the experience of the struggle or more so the refusal to do the work it takes to be successful..there is a society that thinks that the struggle is really a bad thing.

so what do you do? I tell me sons and their friends and any kid that will listen to a crotchety ole man...you make sure your head is up, disconnected from a device, whatever that "device" is, im not specifically saying its your iphone or your lap top, a device can be a job, an addiction, a hobby, a dysfunction, anything that keeps you apart from people, physically and mentally....keep you head up I tell them.. so you can see the beautiful crowd of people approaching..., best friends, neighbors, the love of your life is in that crowd... take the ear buds out so you can hear opportunity knocking, and what people are thinking, and no blinders so you can experience all the greatness of this world...the good and the bad in all its glory

there is always those who will be attracted to the shiny object that keeps them face down and disconnected from the real quest for lifers, the real change makers, dont be face down, this is the beginning of the separation of man from man by way of blind technological invention..be very self aware....and as long as you can resist the total disconnect from each other the more you will be connected to what people want and how people love and how we all basically want the same form of success. so as i step off of my high horse and onto my soap box i cant wait to take off my shoes and just walk in the grass and all you Humboldt students know exactly the kinda grass im talking about

A LESSON BEFORE FIRST PERIOD

i drove sal into school this morning...and he says...why do you get up so early if you dont have to go to school? i said i like making ur lunch and driving you in..why? wouldNT you rather sleep? no i love seeing you in the morning. .....the truth is like the 5 kids before him...these mornings end and the little kid that needs the lunch made and the push to get out of bed only lasts a short time...soon they get up on their own and run out the door without a goodby...the need for me in the morning is gone...the little boy is replaced with a know it all teen who is embarrassed at the first sign of love i give and too cool to bring a lunch that daddy made...its the breaking away that makes me get up for my little buddy...soon it will be no more pb and j lunches no more book reports and no more singing goofy songs on the way to school..sal is my last little boy.....for 35 yrs i have been called dad....i ve seen it son after son..they grow...go and some never look back..some are biter....all the worries, dreams. and hopes for your kid are lost in the back of your mind...and you realize that they never really needed you in the first place for anything but love..what a selfish thought to think that your kids will live the life you wished for them..i dont know if im lucky to have all the kids i do...i do know its heartbreaking and beautiful at the same time...im gonna miss not haveing a little son by my side...its been most of my life i had some little boy skipping behind me looking for my hand....reaching for th security that i so willing love to give...im not sucjh a great guy ...but the greatest thing i ever tried to do was be a dad....over the years i fell way short but i constantly try to better myself.... so no sal.. little buddy.... i dont mind getting up in the morning...i dont mind at all

DISCONNTCTED

sundays remind me of family i remember it was a day for being out with the rest of the world...... being out socializing .... for some its ...a church day....go to the diner....food shopping....running into friends...bumping into strangers....putting on your sunday best....now a days you dont have to leave your house, your not forced to go out and come out of your shell, blend with the rest of the world, discuss, talk, laugh, learn, educate. Or like most, you can run to the store in your pajamas real quick, with your head in your phone and back home safely without having to interact with anyone who isn't on your friends list.....its lost, the interaction with others is at a minimum..at best we have resorted to sharing a politically correct post with a wonderful message and we feel our part at the solution is done...we gave ourselves an easyway out...just like a post and your doing your part....we can selectively learn what we want to know, avoid the hard stuff, switch the channel or log off.....we stop being challenged because its easier to give into habit....but what's missing the most is the validation of each of us...the importance of a hello, a good morning, the feeling of making a new friend....receiving an unsolicited compliment.....its lost..... sitting with your head down married to a device is the norm....we have an excuse now to walk past someone and not make eyecontact...to ignore a stranger..sorry im on the phone......didnt see you, i was checking my email....im lucky to not have had the distractions growing up...i had to talk, say hello, hold the door open....join in...it helped build confidence and shed shyness....i sat at the table and talked with adults...they talked to me.....story's..life's rules....jokes...it was fun...it made memories....we didnt have a picture takin every 5 seconds we were to busy being in the moment. Being involved...enjoying that time....everyone in the room participated...we didnt divide into our own personal space and sit 6 inches apart with our heads down not communicating.....we validated eachother...good or bad we gave you what was on our mind...you didn't have to check your phone for how we were feeling....we said it to your face..its a big loss to us as a people, to let some shiny object come between us...as much as you think that you are staying connected you are that much disconnected.

REAR VIEW

"There is a sadness in realizing that the person you have become is not the person you once wanted to be. It is the sadness of looking back on your life and seeing all the ways you have compromised, all the dreams you have let go, all the parts of yourself you have lost along the way. And in that sadness, there is a sense of mourning, not just for the life you could have had, but for the person you could have been

HEAVEN IS MY HOME

I feel the sun in the morning upon my weary face

The heaviness of yesterday has gone far away

Up ahead through the rainbows and mountain tops are calling me

I hear an echo of my name

Like a song far away

I’m going home

It won’t be long

Untill I rest

This tired soul

This heavy heart

I’m going home

It won’t be long now

I’m going home

I’ve seen the darkness that waits in the sunlight

The sadness on the faces of those who got away

loneliness in the eyes of a stranger lingers long and stays for a while

reminds me that my time is coming due

I’m going home

It won’t be long

Untill I rest

This tired soul

This heavy heart

I’m going home

It won’t be long now

I’m going home

I’m worn and traveled up and down this road

I lived a lot of good times lived some bad times too

But I’ll keep what I’ve been through

I’ve seen the truth that life puts in front of you

I’m going home

It won’t be long

Untill I rest

This tired soul

This heavy heart

I’m going home

It won’t be long

I feel the breeze that washes over me

The cry’s of life’s disappointments are far away

I can see the end of the road in front of me

Calling me home and home I’ll stay

WAS IT YOU SITTING THERE?

I sat next to you today

Saw you sitting in your usual way

I didnt recognize the face

And i dont remember the place

But i knew it was you

its what you do

It wasnt clear

But i could feel you near

Its another long day

And somehow ive been ok

HELLS KITCHEN

Drove around all night

Trying to find

the perfect place

to parallel park

It’s not easy in the city

Especially on forty second street

Whist if I stood

outside your door

underneath your window light

Pouring my heart

finding the words

to make you know

just how I feel

In the middle of your street

Just after midnight

I’d tell the world

And hope you hear

Just Whst you mean

To a man like me

So what if I found

The perfect place

To park my my car

Would you open up your heart

And hear me say

The words I feel

It’s not easy in the city

Especially on forty second street

I ONCE WAS A HUSBAND

IN 1989 i met a girl that took my breath away. i called her a hippiechick..and she called me loner man....we only knew eachother for a few days when we jumped into my car and drove from philly to key west florida... we took a plane to puerto rico and stayed for 44 days going back and forth to the virgin islands, st john and back to florida and drove through new orleans and new mexico to Tijuana, san diego.. up to la , stayed in death valley and after about 7 months we landed in vegas, we got married on new years eve by an elvis dude..we thought it was a novelty and something you did in vegas...we werent running away from anything as much as we were running to find each other..we promised honesty and a safe place to land.we both had enough baggage to sort through and unload...through our dysfunction we knew we wanted to love and be loved..thats all ...that simple ....on that trip we were held up in out hotel room at gun point and robbed, ran out gas in the dessert, stayed in a haunted hotel awake all night with the lights on and a pillow case full of soda cans just incase casper decided to show up ,we both got nailed at the boarder for trying to bring his and her switch blades in from mexico i had to pay a 600 "fine" to the border cop to not arrest me and i gott to keep the kinves..we fought.. .i left... she left. she got out of the car on the way from mexico and started to walk...i drove beside her and begged her to get in she didnt so i parked the car and walked with her we started to fight again she got in the car and left my ass....i walked for two hours..untill she came back for me and said are you done if not ill keep going..i said im done... once the fear of falling in love wore off it was something we both never felt and it started in an instant...we knew we had a deal a deal for a life time.. i played the shit out of a cassette and there was a song on it reflected our mood and it always reminds me of the time off the grid.. with no place to live.. no place to go and no one to answer to...rewriting a future ..we found each other on that ride and since have never let go..we have never stopped moving and traveling and over the course of our time together we added our 3 sons to the ride.... i have been loved consistently without judgment and with praise by a woman who never wavered or gave up on me....the kind of love that our souls constantly move towards lifetime after lifetime reconnecting and continuing this eternal love affair...i love you hippechick....there isnt a flower pretty enough a diamond shiny enough or even a song sweet enough that could express how i feel for my wife..... she is the kind of woman any man would climb the tallest mountain to tell the whole wide world.... i love you

BEFORE THE DAWN LEAVES

Its five am and i wonder where you are,

How you been? what your doing and just how far you really are,

I wonder if you went through hell to get to heaven and did you land on a star?

Theres a place i go and look for you, i wait, noone knows, only i go,

Its the pieces i find in the corners of my mind, that put together something broken i left behind,

its five am and i wonder where you are, i wonder what ill find.

I saw you ten thousand times today, laughing, dancing, giving up a fight.

forever still ill wait ten thousand mornings and ten thousand nights,

looking for you, waiting for your light

Its five am and i wonder where you are

My wonderful star.

DID IT REALLY HAPPEN

Always and Forever was the wedding song to my first marriage. So always and forever is about ten years. Its mind boggeling. That I was ever married before and loved someone enough to plan a life and have two kids with. We havent talked in 35 years i dont see or talk to the kids we had together. Its like it never happened. I know people who lost spouses. Parents who lost kids. And kids who lost parennts., That would do anything to have one more convetsation with. But we dont talk to eachother. I dont know what my oldest kid looks like or what kinda work he does... I use to lay awake at night when i first had them snd worry sbout thier future. I still do

ODE TO CINDY THORPE

one of the best thing about growing up in philly during the time when it was safe to go out side, a time where nothing was in the house to distract you, no cable tv no internet or xbox, we went out. most of us hung in a group at a park in the woods a playground a dead end...during grade and high school i hung at the playgound in my neighborhood with 20 or thirty kids...we all bonded some were closer then others...we partied, experimented, discovered all the things teens do...it was during a time when music was played on actual instruments all the girls were natural pretty and the guys still showed off to impress them...there is something about growing up like that...my kids didnt get that i moved around and they never got the chance to experience it...i dont know if that good or bad...they adapted and have a different kind of friendship....its been about 40 years since those days up at the palyground and still separated by time distance and circumstances not all of us are in constant contact but we all kinda know what each is up too.its an old school unspoken thing i guess and over time you come to love eachother...about a year ago one of the guys from the crew died and naturally we all feel the sting and you try and wrap you head around the loss...its terrible ...there is something about knowing a person as a kid when dreams were a thing when you had best friends and crushes on pretty girls...when everything was in the future... watching eachother go from kid on the block to man on the job to dad on the spot.only makes connections stronger..so when someone dies young, someone you knew as a kid, someone who had a family, kids. and so much life to live dies it stops you and you just cant help but feel the loss, i havent see my friend in years and im shook i cant imagine her children and family i hurt for them as anyone would...my friend was a free spirit hippy chick i knew from my playground days i haven't seen her.. just on here a few fleeting times but she left an impression on me as she did everyone ...she was a bowie fan like most of us at that age i always missed her...pray and send love to the heavens and to her family

OH TO BE SOMEONES SOMEONE

Today i refuse to look at the sadness in the world. We try so hard to better our lives struggling to pay bills. Stay healthy and be loved. Its hard to walk past the many people you can just tell are struggling. The homeless and addicted are the obvious but what about the old lady who lives alone and has to walk in the heat with a walker to get her food. Or the eight year old kid who got himself up and is walking to school with nothing in his stomach or the guy driving to work who is battling health issues and cant take off to get the help he needs because he is the bread winner. I can sense it i can feel it i see it all the time And it makes it hard to not be affected. I sometimes resent my own happiness. I stopped trying to help. I try to convince myself that its not my problem and ignore it. To me its a reminder of how close we are to being in that position. How fragile life is. It can and is and could be any of us. So i try to put the good karma in motion. Not so much for me but for my family. I figure if i help a kid. Maybe someday my kid will need help when im gone and someone will help him. Circulate goodness. We all need someone. Most of us have someone and someones. Can you imagine not having anyone.

DEATH IN A DOORWAY

I was sitting on my steps to my moms house after 2 month road trip away from home...the picture is blurry because my kid was taking it...the reason i am there is to tell my kids that my mother ...their grandmother died that night...its still today the biggest mind fuck i ever had to do...its moments like those that make me write words like this......It feels i have lived a thousand lives.....None of them mine....I have put things ..ideas and people's perception of me before myself....So much that i dont know who i am....What i am supposed to do. ....Supposed to be......I looked for signs along the road...A reason...A calling....I wanted to be someone....notwind up a wanabe.....Im so close to the end of the road that all i can see is the backs of the signs i passed along the way....I have memories and scars of a life close to out of control.....out of my control ..... with no self control....As the saying goes i got a chance and i " stood on the shoulder of giants " only i did it to wipe my feet on my way up....they say with age comes wisdom ...but what also comes with with it is the enlightenment of how wrong a person can be, and the punishment is how clear it becomes with time......and the hell is the time you have left to remember what you thought you were so fucking right about...

A WORD IN YOUR EAR FROM FATHER TO SON

My kid asked me if I was going to church?

So I told him - Son what makes you think I want to go to church? what makes you think I need to go to church?

What is a church, but a place you take your guilty ass too and drop an envelope in the basket to look perfect in front of your friends,

by the way my inquisitive son, if they could multiply the fish to feed the hungry,why don’t they multiply the money and stop passing that guilt bearing basket in front of everyone’s face?,

is it religion you are seeking? Cause I don’t believe in any religion and I don’t believe in any god, I don’t need a place to talk to the god I believe in,

I can see the god I believe in, everywhere I look. In you, in a stranger, in the animals, in nature and even inside my salty old ass lives a god,

what do we need to know? Do we need someone to tell us to love? That its not ok to do wrong? Do we really need rules, if we live a decent life?

I don’t pray, I praise. I don’t ask I thank, I don’t beg, I answer. I don’t need proof or a reason to believe in a god, I don’t give it to much thought,

I don’t worry what building to go to, or if I didn’t pray on the right day, of if I ate the wrong thing on the wrong day …I don’t waste my time in ritual, I am a ritual , I am a communion. i am the god of my world and you are the god of your world we are all gods, and all gods do good things

My son answered - So that’s a no than?

ANOTHER WORD IN YOUR EAR FROM FATHER TO SON

My kid aske me if he could get a pet

And I said ....son. I don’t believe in caging anything or anyone, not a person, not a thought not an idea and certainly not an animal, who am I to impose my emptiness for compassion on another being, who am I to think I know what is right for that being, who am I to choose what it eats, when it shits and when it plays dead, how dare I make It beg for its food…I don’t fool myself into thinking that the pets response to me is nothing more than a source of food, I am not smart enough to understand much, but I do understand that freedom is most important and everyone and everything has a right to be free, me, you the hamster on the wheel , free from someone else’s definition of reality, no I don’t need a pet, and I don’t want a pet… I don’t want to parade my hostage animal around on a leash in a sweater I picked out, nor do I want to stoop to pick up the warm shit of mans best friend, I rather not be responsible for the life of something I cant communicate with, and I never want to deprive another being of its own happiness

Son- what about a fish?

AGAIN, ANOTHER WORD IN YOUR EAR FROM FATHER TO SON

My son asked me what I wanted for my birthday

I told him - son, I don’t celebrate birthdays, birthdays are for people who worry about time. Who anticipate the end. Who have no excitement …I just live my life, I don’t wear a watch, and I don’t know what day of the week it is, but I never show up late, I don’t stop long enough to look in a mirror, I have squeezed every ounce I could out of every day that i lived, so much that I don’t remember if im 18 or 68, I don’t need to mark a day on the calendar to celebrate, I don’t need to new pair of socks or a misspelled birthday cake, I don’t have time for people who aren’t so happy to see me, tell me how happy they are to see me, every day is a celebration that I beat the odds . that I got to see ,smell, feel ,and taste whatever I want when I wanted, dam son can’t you see , I am time, I am the past I am the future I never end, I don’t ever stop

He replied- So you don’t want socks?

NOVEMBER STOLE AN ANGEL

i woke to say to you

what you said to me

novembers angel left her bed

in the rain they washed your sins

i havent heard a whisper since

over time its ment to cleanse

even the cries of the innocent

high above the colored sky

past the part where the hero cries

crossed the trees into emptyness

over the clouds into heavns breast

From a sleep to eternal rest

Follow me into my depths

Time has slipped and crept neverless

i wiped the tears of all my fears

and picekd up the peices of brokeness

Trying to make them fit

i havent been the same ever since

i havent been the same ever since

WHAT AMERICAN DREAM?

Now a days depression is not easily seen or is it shared as collectively as in the 1920s and 30s but it still exists on the inside...in the modern age depression isnt how little money you have ...its how little coping skills you have to survive the bullshit that bankrupts our minds and souls..most of us are from a genaration where the american dream was a reality, religion was believable and helping and loving your neighbor was partof evry day life...thats why we as a country survived the great depression ...most of us feel lied to swindled and cant even define the american dream for our kids...our imigrant parents have lost all the sweat equity they left the homeland for....but today there is no togetherness, no lets all pull together...we need tragedy like a crazy gunman or a hurrican to make us realize we have a neighbor..... we are all separated by technology and buy class, sexual differences and religion...no one cares for the neighbor they cant see or hear and as long as we are ok and our tank is full..fuck everyone else....well you may not see hungry people with torn shoes that depression looked like in the 1920s...but look close around us and there are plenty of people who are injured souls that are ripped up inside and depressed

SAY IT AINT SO JOHNNY

When I was a small baby I had a near death experience I saw the white light and I saw the commotion of my uncle Vic and dad rushing me to the hospital i always thought it was a dream I had. I recanted this story to my uncle and mother years later as an adult and they were shocked that I knew about the incident According to my mother. I had a high fever that turned into encephalitis and I was in a coma for a couple months. They predicted I was going to be partially crippled and have some brain damage. They got the brain damage part right. I never tell the story. But it explaines a lot of how I live my life. And because of that early experience I never fear death. I’m not a risk taker or do I want to die. But I’m not afraid of death. What terrifies me about death are the way survivors deal with it. The heavy hurt that consumes a beautiful living life. I know so many. And I am one myself. Who are in a state of constant mourning. No one ever forgets a dead loved one. No one ever gets over it. Time dose not heal. All wounds. But we need to realize that life is about living. It’s about being able to continue to love and enjoy what it brings. my baggage is always with me. I burry it and I hide it behind my pot smoke. But it’s there. It don’t stop me from living life it don’t stop me from laughing and making people laugh. It don’t stop living as much as I can. I’m still a life loving ball breaking kid at heart who at 58 still believes in dreams. I learned to love my baggage. I’m thankful that I loved and was loved so much that I hurt this bad. Loss sucks. It’s tragic and can rearrange your life’s direction. But it happens. Suddenly painfully and no one can get use to it. We can just soldier on for the ones in our lives and keep those who left our lives alive in our dreams and in our conversation. Do things to celebrate their life and somehow it will make the death that much bearable. Every day we get to see is another day to be thankful for. Burying the dead dose not mean burry their memory. We all will unfortunately have to go through with the beauty and heart ache of life’s cycle. Just make the best days of your life everyday and make the people around you know you love them

HEY BOY!

i know its christmass and everyone is having a great day...and all the pictures of the happy families and the high piled gifts and all the amazing food...looks great...i cant help but be reminded of my grandfather John Tucci who as a 17 yr old kid came to this country without anything...he had 13 kids and i dont know how many grand kids...as far as i know he was a man who took an idea and a dream and made it happen.he came to america and became successful. the sad thing is...the last years of his life were spent homeless and walking the streets of frankford..i used to shine shoes at 8 or 9 at my dads corner bar...a man would call me boy never by my name...one day he gave me a shoeshine box....i never knew he was grandpop....later as a 10 or 11 yr old kid i was driving in my dads gold cadilac and he pointed to a bum walking down kensington avenue...he said see that old guy...thats your grandfather John...your dad? i asked ..yes he said....i didnt understand how we could keep driving past him...I was a bad kid stealing and doing drugs and i used to run away in high school and look for him

I found him on Frankfort avenue and instead of going to school. i use to help him in his abandon laundymat ....just moving piles of junk back and forth...he didnt know i was John his grandson....years past and i got married and we as a family were doing good , we owned a neighborhood bar and my dad would have big parties in our back yard....my first fathers day as a new dad , we had a big party ..all the aunts and uncles were at my dads house....i left the party and went and got my grandfather and brought him back to the party....to say the least they were all shocked and some annoyed....i cleaned him up, washed his clothes and said..John i have beer, wine orr whiskey what do you want...he said all 3....he sat on the couch tall and proud...even though he was homless he sat with stubborn dignity...two days later i woke up and he was gone...never to see him again until years later .i found him and my aunts and uncles put hiim in a home so he could live out the rest of his days......i could never understand how a son could hate his father so bad that you could drive past him on the streets..that stuck with me as you can see im a 60 yr old guy still with this chip.....i thought if you could drive past your own father whats to say you wont drive past your own sons.....now me like him I haven’t spoke to my father who is now 90 for over thirty years... he did drive past me a few times in my life when i could have used a lift....and even worse I have 5 sons that don’t talk to me.

so i say to my father keep on driving no one wants to get in your car...and to my grandfather John i give you all the credit for what i am and where I am today I took chances in my life. I wasn’t afraid to go for a dream. I may be stubborn and maybe I will walk the streets ...but i sit tall and proud .... i dont know much about you but I’m just like you. Grand pop john

REMEMBER THE MEMORY

For those of us who stay quiet. Who force the smile. For those of us who remember the missing faces. Who feel the sadness like an old christmass sweater... ugly and tight. For the ones that can't escape the memories... I say we are the lucky... we are the torch bearers of those who touched us so much that we can never forget. Life... beautiful life... teaches us.... if we are willing to learn.

SOMETIMES LIFE WAS GRAND

when i was a kid the best Christmases were spent at my grandmoms house, it was a gathering of everyone in my family.. heading to grandmoms house with my mom and dad, my two younger brothers vinnie and tony...i remember marching into her house the smell of the kitchen...i can still feel the big smooch she would give me...i remember running down stairs to my uncle albert and shaking his hand and waiting for him to squash my fingers together...i can still remember my cool uncle Vic sitting in the living room sitting on the plastic covered couch...my uncle louie next to him eating fried meatballs....i remember my uncle frankie sprawled out on the floor in front of the TV and i still remember giving him a kiss because he was my godfather....i remember aunt rosie, aunt wendy and aunt vera all dressed up and looking pretty huddled in the kitchen.....uncle bruno and aunt dee dee sitting at the kitchen table and uncle dave with a vo on the rocks at 10 am...uncle sammy buddles and uncle louie bonjorno were setting up tables in gran moms back yard for the kids...and My aunt terry finally arriving with my cousin rocky and his sisters.... and all of us would play all day.....eat ....fight...laugh.., sit on our aunts and uncle laps...and listen to stories ....stay up all night until all the food was gone and the house was cleaned up spotless.....then someone carried us and put us into the back seat of the car passed out from a food and fun coma ..it was the best of days... i want to say merry christmass to all my cousins..and thank you guys for thousands of good memories and thanks to all of our parents for the great times they gave us...and most of all thanks to grandmom...merry christmass to my cousins..connie, rocky, terrylyn, roxanne, andrea, jimmy, michelle, albert, bruno, gary, pattyanne, carol, lisa, toni, frankie, mark, steve,rose, gina, louie, dana, nadine, david and steven,

we all have our familys now...and its our kids that are running and playing in the yard....thank you all

WATERING THE DRIVEWAY

i grew UP in the kind of neighborhood that people would wash thier front steps actually get down on thier hands and knees with a bucket of soapy water and a scrub brush and go to town..most were 2 -3 white marble steps that led into a 2 story row home...people didnt have much, but they exhibited self pride...my father was a builder and he built my mother her dream house on aubrey ave....my mother was very proud and a clean freak...her job daily was cleaning the house..special days for different tasks and different times of the year for different kinds of cleaning...when i lived at home and worked at the bar...i would get up to go the the bathroom and before i got back to my room the bed was made and the windows were wide opne..and my mother screetching .rise and shine...

my mother had the living room museum, complete with plastic covers on the sofa and dripping oil floor lamp..we never used that room... no one did..one thing my mother did that amused me and i would break her stones all the time...is she would water down the driveway...squirt the dirt, leaves, cigarett butts and trash that has been curled up in the corner...start at the top and work her way down and into the street and squirt it in front of the neghbors on either side...and me i would walk past her getting to my car and say something wise to her like.."mom its not gonna grow its concrete"...."mom the grass is the long green stuff over there"...and my mother... god lover.. didnt hold back...in a house with 3 wise mouth sons and married to my overbearing father.... she had a mouth..go F yourself!!! she would just say the letter f not the entire word...."and dont you worry what im squirtin...you think i want you assholes tracking this shit in the house on my clean rugs..and she squirt my skinny ass just before i shut the door to my car...

we moved in the house in the early 70's and she did this watering the drive way thing for years and up untill she was dying of cancer in 90-91ish...,and up to her being in hospice confined to her room... she would come down and sit in the window and make her sister katie water the drive way...and in her weakend chemoed voice she would compain it wasnt good enough..

..its funny what you pick up...what habitts you do and not untill you stop and really think... why am i doing this?.....i have been married for 26 years or so and had about 10 different houses since and i always watered the drive way, i was just cleaning the shit off the driveway as a task, a job, like taking out the trash..and over the years at some point i realized along with the anxiety, the oveprotection i have for my kids..that watering the drivway is something she gave me.a mom thing......i cant help but think about her every time i get the hose...sometimes like today i do it cause i need to feel her...its funny how the mind can make you beleive and heal yourself...i take the landing of a butterfly as a sign that my mother is giving me or a song on the radio is her way of saying that she sees me....do i beleive it? not really . but i give into it...i make up signs from the other side..ill talk to a fuckin bird like its her..i call my cat mom mom....its alll i can do to release the valve..... when the shit builds up..and i stop and stay still long enough to allow the loss to suck me in...i need to do something to not crawl in too deep

over the 26 yrs since she died i recognize the darkness comming on... and i try and get a grip and live for the living..even the story of watering the driveway is something that im romantacising, because i want so deperatly nevr to forget her ... i will assign mundane things as a symbol of her existance...like "my mom used to watch this" or "my mother would make her sauce like this" i still wear her rosary beads like a left over 80s madonna groupie......its hard not do.... so i water the driveway.....its my threapy...im alone and not bothered for the half hour or so i spend cleanig off the shit...it refreshes me and makes me think of the good and the bad,,,and i get a moment to be that kid who misses his mother... it helps me beleive im not alone,,,it helps me deal with what evr i need to deal with and for a moment, a week ,a month sometimes even a year im ok with it.....my mother died around this time of year along with others i usually find a black hole and stick my head in it untill january...today i really needed to water the driveway

YOU LITTLE SON OF AN ABUSER

its common for abusers to stick together or as my uncle says stand shoulder to shoulder aand stick together because we are family..dysfunction has no maturity level, you would think with age comes a bit of wisdom or self enlightenment, but if you are an abuser yourself, beating your kids, cheating on your wife and lying and cheating is commonplace...but for me and my generation of cousins, we saw parents who shunned thier homeless father .....watching your mom or aunt catch a slap was a normal friday night....seeing a cousin or a brother get hit with a shoe or a hanger or a belt was a ton of laughs for the ones who wasnt being hit....so you cant expect age or lifes experience to change people...some just pretend it never happened

SHRINK WRAPPED

i went and saw a shrink to try and get in front of my depression....she said that the average person experiences 1 or 2 major incidents in thier life, like death, divorce, etc...we counted 13 incidents by the time i was 30,,,,that she said would have stopped an elephant in their tracks...she said i need to stop punishing myself and give myself a hug......i told her that sounded silly and made me more depressed....she aske if i wanted to make an appointment for next week i told ill ask myself after im done hugging myselF

WISHING YOU A VERY UNHAPPY BIRTHDAY

Birthdays are for kids. Since my mother died I haven’t celebrated my birthday for over 30 years I just never saw the point. To me the day I was born belongs to my mother. She gave me life...I was the oldest and her favorite. She liked making a big deal of my birthday she got a bigger kick out of it then I did...McDonald’s was a special treat back in the 1960s so my mother would take me and let me get Whst I wanted and a a hot apple pie and she put a candle in it and sing to me I was to young to be embarrassed so today I went I got a happy meal and a hamburger... no mom... no hot apple pie and no candle .

UNNATURAL BEAUTY

Living in Hollywood and taking pictures for a living. i really don't like the painted up barbie doll girl. Not to say they aren't pretty girls underneath the make up botox tit job and hair extension. But i like a real woman no make up and with all the bumps and bruises that comes with life. Any man around my age who has been with a woman through child birth or with a woman long enough to see them age appreciates a woman who is not what society thinks is picture perfect. I think most men don't really care what size a woman's dress is ...if they do then maybe its the wrong guy for you....as long as your healthy and like yourself. Who cares. i think most guys care about what kind of woman you are. All this high heels, make up nails eyebrow plucking bullshit is not for us men. Its more for woman to prance around in front of each other. I think most men appreciate a woman who isn't afraid to look natural. Shows a bit more confidence. We don't care how much make up you wear or what shoes you have on as long as your clothes come off and your face stays on.

STOLEN VICTIMS

show

my heart

some devotion

take away

all of

this commotion

i feel

like a child

on a

dark night

reaching

for some

kind of heaven

come

grab

my hand

while it’s open

try

and fix

what was broken

put

back

the heart

that was stolen

just make it

stop

make it

stop

and show

my heart

some devotion

take away

all of this commotion

i feel like a child

on a cold night

looking for someone

just to

hold tight

LOVE IS NEVER HOMLESS

I met Michelle

You could tell

She been through hell

The lonesome traveler

Held a flower

And could use a shower

Her hands pricked by thorns

Her face warm and worn

her expensive clothes torn

Her name is Michelle

And you could tell

she been through hell

She wore fake pearls

Talked of far off worlds

And smiled like a little girl

Her name is Michelle

And you can tell

She’s been through hell

CAN'T CALL ME STUPID ANYMORE

As I turn the page today on another birthday …I look back and I have so many memories….I remember being an 8 yr old kid and watching elvis on tv with my mom…i wanted a black leather suit so bad and I wanted the girls to look at me like that…I didn’t know at eight years old why but I wanted it…for a long time I wanted to be something creative I wanted to go for a dream I had inner confidence even though I was told I couldn’t or wouldn’t be anything. I knew calling me stupid wasn’t the truth but it hurts a kid … I still had dreams…I was abused very young physically sexually and verbally. And it’s been recurring visions in my head for over forty years....the abuse never leaves, it shapes and defines ...the abuse can cover you in anger so you can keep everyone away. When your a kid you can’t tell the bad guy from the good guy so you assume everyone is bad... my abuse came from men, woman and strangers family members and mostly my dad . I was in an environment no kid should be in. I grew up way to fast and I was sexualized very young...home life wasn’t so quiet so I use to run away as a kid…I would sleep in places out of the way...the back of my ole mans dump truck to avoid him and as soon it start in the morning id hop out the back once he hit frankford ave…I would take the train from philly at 11 and 12 yrs old and go to Times Square in nyc…I kept my school bag on my back so it looked like I was always on my way to school....I walked around and window shop. I’d people watch and head back home before school would let out.. so I blend in with the kids coming home..i would take the train and get off down bridge and pratt and walk around my old neighborhood and i hid out during school time... one day I found my way into an abandoned laundermat …. there was an old guy in an old suit in there moving shit back and forth…a dirty guy he spoke broken English very italian...he asked me to help him and I did …I would go back for weeks and he would make me move shit back and forth and pay me with quarters from inside the old washing machines…. I did this for a few months until the truant officer stopped me and asked me my name and why I wasn’t in school... because of my dads reputation the cop knew my father and took him to the laundermatt…. I was caught eating lunch with the old guy ...my father busted in and yelled at me and the old man and told me to get in the truck

…. when I was about 5 or 6 years old my dad had a corner bar and there was a guy that came around.. the guy would call me boy and give me quarters for the juke box so I could listen to elvis and the Beatles...he made me a shoe shine box and I shined shoes in my fathers bar…I was so young in that environment of drunks and whores but I always remembered that man but never knew who he was….

....When my dad got back in the truck he started yelling at me on the way home in the truck…my father asked If I remembered the guy who gave me the shoeshine box when I was a little kid?..i said yes…he said that was him. That old man in the laundry matt is your grandfather His name is john .. that’s why I named you john ....after him …I asked him why are you going to leave him there in the cold? He has no home?

My father told me my grandfather has a home he owns property all over Philadelphia and chooses to live like that...and I was told not to go back around to thst fucking old man ever again.

Why? Why would a man choose that way of life. I only see a feeble old man who shakes from Parkinson’s. I never knew the monster he we was rumored to be...

the summer came and I kinda forgot about the old guy , and I listened to Russ my father and never went back to the laundermatt and I never said a thing…

Time went on years passed but I use to worry about him all the time and I would ask my aunts and uncle about him and I never really got an answer….

when I was 17 my father bought a bar and put me in charge..soon after I got married to my first wife and by 19 had a kid. I was the oldest son of the oldest son and I was having my first of six sons and it was fathers day and my father was having a big party at his house…all his brothers and sister were coming 13 of them...

So I got an idea as a proud young father and i got in my car and I drove frankford avenue and I went into the laundermatt and there he was….john…my grandfather…he still had a suit jacket on… … I put him in the back of the car and took him out of the dark city to the suburbs my fathers house…..i was shocked at how my aunts and uncles could care less…they all showed respect and said hello but no love…

I took his old clothes and gave him my dads old suit and washed his stuff..i said to him…john …I have whisky, wine or beer what do you want?…he said I’ll take all three…..and I gave him all three….i let him shower and sleep in my bed….the next morning when I got up he was gone……I didn’t see him again in ever went after him until his funeral…..in the Casket with his suit on

i never gave the respect I should have for my father…I loved him but I couldn’t understand how ..Him being the oldest.. could let his father live like that…I worked for my father for 20 years and we were very successful..but when I had enough and wanted out…he said leave and never come back….so I did…for the past 30 years…I haven’t talked to him or been back to philly…its a sickness…I don’t understand it…im just as guilty…I can hold a grudge…but im ok with it…I have 2 brothers that don’t talk to me…5 of my 6 kids who don’t talk to me and a granddaughter I never met…I’ve been married 3 times and lead a full life ....I’m not a good dad and I’m a half ass husband....its not an easy thing to deal with but its not the end of the world…I realized its ok not to like your father or not to agree with your kids…im happy where im at… I have a different lifestyle than I grew up…Im not the son of a gangster. I made my way on my own against the odds without an education and I kinda owe it all to my grandfather…I think of him all the time…how he spent the lsast years of his life alone like that...on the streets…to come here from Italy have 13 kids and die in a home alone ....one mans dream ...it’s a sadness I cant let go of and im resentfull for him ….but without knowing him I learned so much from him…I lived in Times Square and went to Art school I lived so many places and been dreaming and moving since I rand aeay st 20 years old ..im in California because of him…I left my fathers street punk way of life because of my grandfather john ...if my grandfather at 17 yr old can get on a boat from Italy not knowing anyone or the English language and take a chance in another country with out a pot to piss in and make something of himself ..anything is possible …I wear an old suit jacket as much as I can to remind me of him... “always look good no matter how broke your are” he would say “class don’t cost a fucking thing” ... I still think I can do anything..at my age …I still have dreams…I don’t feel old…. I still feel like a 12 yrs old kid who ran away and who still thinks he can be elvis.