… yet — I do not want to rule the world. At least not all of it. Not the parking lots and dump sites. Not the strip malls, graffiti-covered walls, or Dunkin’ Donut shops popping up around the cities. Nor the arms being tattooed with ducks and skulls. The cars being stripped. …

Lives begin as dreams and end as memories — It ended with sadness. The door slammed shut. The lock slipped neatly into place. A story that was or could have been — now over. Like so many others, closing on a muffled note. A whisper. As the narrator walked quietly from the room, never to return. Adolescence was meant…

Listen up... — Where would we be today, if Martin Luther King was still alive? I haven’t had many heroes in life. People that had the power to reach in, grab hold of some part of me and reshape it. Martin Luther King became one of those heroes before I turned 15. …

And the race is on — Newsbreak is a newsstand. Hustle and bustle. People coming and going to work or home. Drop a dollar in the box and keep moving. Sitting on the train reading the latest paper while heading back to the suburbs. Similar yes, but vastly different as well. Like pizza and potpourri. Medium…

A cautionary tale — Inflation has a face. It’s financial hardship. Living without. Budgets being stretched to the breaking point. It’s average people working two jobs to buy what one job used to buy. But in today’s media, it’s a talking point. …

One man’s opinion — Being old comes with a warranty of sorts that wisdom has accrued, like savings at a bank. To be withdrawn as needed or left to compound until one day a final withdrawal must be made. Being white has always meant something I suppose. But to me, being white is like…

Poem — Every morning I wake up in pieces and have to figure out how to put myself back together again. To match the heartache with a strong heart that’s beating; the anger with the memories that won’t leave me alone, to the dreams shimmering in the distance pretending to be a friend…

Prose poem prompt — Walking home, well after midnight collar up, and soft winds blowing, my thoughts offering little in compromise, I want to be happy, just can’t find my way. Darkness before me — not depression, just some trees forming an arch — to honor me as I walk beneath it on the road. Walking toward…

… and other holiday musings — I like Tim Denning. I don’t know him, but I like him. I also like chocolate chip cookies too. Just not every day. Too sweet. I get the jitters after a bit and begin to feel faint. So, I’m fasting on Tim Denning now, not chocolate chip cookies. …