Contemplations, Justice, Poetry, Reflections, Social Commentary


Why do the Homeless in America’s Finest City

have to sleep on cardboard 

on city streets and sidewalks 

in alleys and under freeways

in empty doorways 

under tarps on the ground 

in Montclair canyon

while we sleep on beds

with pillowed heads 

in private spaces? 

Why do we care more for pets

than for the hapless homeless

sleeping on cardboard 

on concrete sidewalks?

Why do we walk by them

care free without seeing 

that  but for the grace

Of God are you and i

Why have we forsaken Martin’s Dream

of the Beloved Community

for the gospel of ego and greed?

Contemplations, Justice, Reflections, Social Commentary


I sleep and dream

of a celestial encounter

with an angelic lady

who offers me peace & love 

until I awaken to a nightmare

on Sunday morning TV

where I see

Trump’s Viral Pandemic

spreading fear and hate

across terrestrial reality

Is this our fate?

Contemplations, Justice, Poetry, Reflections, Social Commentary


Sleeping into the New Millennium

On this singular occasion when the world is celebrating the end of a century and ushering in a new millennium

i am fast asleep, fatigued by the ceaseless flow of words, celebrations and consumer products filling the airwaves and my aging brain with retrospectives and prognostications.

Ok, i admit it, i’m a wee bit weird when it comes to secular feast days and super-hyped Hollywood extravaganzas from Fiji to Hawaii, and all points in between. Even poor little Cuba is given air time on ABC.  The Copacabanastill inspires nostalgia here at home.

The broadcaster, Peter Jennings, morosely speculates on life in that pariah paradise with its perennial dictator, Fidel.  Peter is pontificating on how “ordinary Cubans” were not permitted to attend the gala in the Copa. Where he gets his information is beyond me; he does not identify his source, however the implication is clear: Cubans are oppressed by their inability to attend this New Year’s Eve bash at the Copa.  Obviously this icon of American journalistic objectivity is unaware that ordinary Cubans, indeed ordinary Norte Americanos, could not afford to attend this event even if they wanted to.  

It is like the White House Millennial dinner, an exclusive invitation only affair, where the price of admission is steeper than at the Copacabana.  
What Peter fails to say is that the Cuban people are probably having one hell of a time partying as only they can, in their neighborhoods, bars, clubs and cabanas. They are not as slavish to spectator entertainment as we are but they do know how to party. The streets and clubs of Havana are jammin’ tonight. It’s too bad the networks won’t show the good times the Cubans are having without U.S. control and domination.

Black Lives Matter, Contemplations, Justice, Poetry, Reflections, Social Commentary


I wait in the courthouse

for my 13 year old client

to be brought to Juvenile Justice

After patted down and frisked

by arsenals in uniform

he shuffles from a concrete cell 

in shackles of shame

to the court room and back

to his steel spring bed

He is a child at risk   

who when released

returns scared & scarred 

to the hood

without a neighbor 

Where homies share war stories

as cop cars cruise

to catch gang bangers

and wannabes 

in the ghettos and barrios 

of the other America