Stolen Innocence

Stolen Innocence

What makes a human being take or steal from another?
Leaving a gaping black hole in another being.
Never to be fully whole again.

What right was granted to you?
To remove someone’s self worth?
How do you live with the memory of ruining another human being?

Or was that the ticket; you didn’t think of them as a human being?
Perhaps you weren’t taught to value life, dignity or to have self respect.
Two monsters is all I see.

You saw a weakness and attacked without mercy or consequence.
You made the choice about you and not them.
You momentarily took their dignity.
You took advantage of their unconsciousness.
You ripped into their body, mind, heart and soul.

How do you walk around as the cream of the crop?
Yes, your outer package is pretty to all who see you,
but inside you are the ugliest of beings.

Karma will get you lovely anyone who uses and abuses another being,
for their own pleasure experience or whatever else.
You want to justify yourself and say it was about love, but I’m sure you will meet your demise in just the same way or worst.

You thought you won something that night,
but in the end you will never be able to see any real beauty,
for you have violated yourself with the foulest of dung and have lost your worth as a human being.

To call you an animal would be an insult to those magnificent creatures,
for you are even lower than that.
If ever there was a face that matched a stolen innocence it would be you.


Roller Days

Where are my carefree loved filled roller days?

Every Saturday or Sunday depending on the event, I sat on the floor between the legs that gave me life.
Holding the bag or bucket that held the magic to straightening my kinky curly cinnamon brown locks.
Large round purple or magenta rollers depending on the length of my hair with long black or silver hair pins to secure them.

Every Saturday or Sunday depending on the event, I sat on the floor between the legs that gave me life.
My brother sits a few feet away watching tv or playing with his toy cars.
On occasion one would ‘slip’ away and park near me, so that I would send it sailing back to him hard and fast.

Every Saturday or Sunday depending on the event, I sat on the floor between the legs that gave me life.
Wide tooth comb in her hand combing my hair into submission.
Then alternating to the fine tooth rattail comb to wrap my conditioned wet hair around each roller.

Every Saturday or Sunday depending on the event, I sat on the floor between the legs that gave me life.
Getting tapped on the shoulder or neck to straighten up with either comb was not fun.
Wide tooth was thick and heavy, but the rattail with it’s needle like point was death.

Every Saturday or Sunday depending on the event, I sat on the floor between the legs that gave me life.
Trying to play with my brother was a risk I took every time.
Hoping she would not notice me move or I would feel that almighty tug that would sit me up straighter than a flagpole.

Every Saturday or Sunday depending on the event, I sat on the floor between the legs that gave me life.
45 minutes of my life that I would never get back as I counted the 25-30 rollers being lined up like soldiers to do their job.
45 minutes that would lead to an hour and a half of high heat to dry and mold my ‘bad’ hair into silky ringlets or large soft curls.

Every Saturday or Sunday depending on the event, I sat on the floor between the legs that gave me life.
Saturday, so that we could go out later in the evening to a family gathering or for church on Sunday followed by a family gathering.
Sunday, to look presentable for the school week, so as not to upset the nuns with my unruly mop for hair.

Every Saturday or Sunday depending on the event, I sat on the floor between the legs that gave me life.
Each time she made the extra effort to make me shine with my molded silky ribbon filled mane.
Never taking too much time for herself, but always looking well put together with less.

Every Saturday or Sunday depending on the event, I sat on the floor between the legs that gave me life.
I appreciate all that she did for me during those much simpler times and I miss it now.
Oh what I would give to have her run both her hands on my scalp and down my hair.

Every Saturday or Sunday depending on the event, I sat on the floor between the legs that gave me life.
To feel her love for me as she primped and prodded my hair; to showcase her hard work transformed into beautiful curls, braids or for it to softly swing down my back.
Now I either I do it or I pay someone to primp and prod my unruly crown, but it will never be the same as when mami did it for me.

Carefree, loved filled roller days are long gone, but they live on in my memory.


You are the shameless fool who tricked me.
You are the shameless fool who with your friend used and abused me.
You are the shameless fool who took what was not yours.

I was the foolish young girl who fell for your fake kindness.
I was the foolish young girl who listened to your pretty words afterwards.
I was the foolish young girl who trusted in your falsehood.

My foolishness with time became change and betterment.
My foolishness with time became growth and viability.
My foolishness with time became wisdom and forgiveness.

So, who is the gullible fool?
So, who is the shameless fool?
So, who is the invisible fool?

Fool, I’m a beautiful creation unlike you.
Fool, I’m a source of light unlike you
Fool, I’m a strong woman unlike you.

You are beautiful

You are a beautiful delicious man.

Your smooth sexy bald head makes me grip my hands at my back so as not to give into temptation and stroke you.
Your long thick black lashes that shield your eyes make my knees weak.
Your dark mocha brown eyes pierce me to the root of my soul.

You are a beautiful dream come true.

Your velvety voice washes over me leaving me thrilled like no other.
Your lavish lips move luxuriously as you speak.
Your smile radiates without guile and wraps me in its warmth.

You are a beautiful desire.

The back of your neck calls to be caressed by my attentive fingers.
The side of your neck begs for my lips to slide up, down and occasionally claim you with a bite.
The front of your neck begs my tongue to stroke it from the top of your chest to the bottom of your chin and delicately suck on your Adam’s apple as well as your pulse points.

You are a beautiful reality.

You are a beautiful man and I just wanted to let you know.
No, I don’t want anything just needed to let you know.
So, that I can let you go on your way with a spring in your step.

You are a beautiful gift to mankind.

The beauty of your soul only elevates your physical beauty.
You are what dreams are made of and turn into reality when you walk into a room.
You are what I desire for a companion, friend or mate.

Yes, you are a beautiful man.
You are beautiful.


Alone Together, but his cold wet kiss left nothing in its wake.

It Never Entered My Mind that sparks would not fly, just two warm less lips meeting mine saying nothing sweet or meaningful.

Left me cold like the saxophone in John Coltrane’s Polka Dots And Moonbeans.

Didn’t electrify me like Miles Davis’ Summertime.

It could become a frosty habit if I see him again, but your long gone kisses are a warmth trapped permanently cause I’ve Got You Under My Skin.

Angel Eyes let me Dream a Little Dream with you for it leaves me In A Sentimental Mood.

That It Might As Well Be Spring making me shiver coming out of winters thaw.

I want to live like Chris Botti’s La Belle Dame Sans Regrets for loving and kissing you were not wrong.

Stormy Weather did not deter your warm erotic kisses to light me up from the inside out.

The Nearness Of You kept me warm on the coldest of nights when you went away.

What Is There To Say after being loved by you it was S’Wonderful.

Yes, it is true and it is most unfair that I’ve Got A Crush On You and no one else will do.

The Very Thought Of You will keep me going until the kiss of the next Blue Moon, So Let’s Face The Music And Dance into eternity for When I Fall in Love again it will be forever.

Jazzy kisses are the best.
Kiss me for as long as all these play.
Let your jazzy lips rest on mine forever.

This poem is courtesy of PANDORA’s Dinner Jazz Radio Station anything in Bold Title Capital Letters is a titled song. So go relax with some great music.

Through your eyes

You look relieved every time I guess what you are saying by the look of your eyes.
Others are shocked at our connection, but how can I not know what your beautiful honey brown eyes say;
when they have been speaking to me since I was a child.

You lay there with tubes and wires coming out of you in this excessively intense hospital room.
Even without the power of speech I know what you say by your quiet expressive eyes.
Eyes that have the power to give me peace, tranquility, encouragement, love, discipline and wisdom.

I was scared for you, but more scared for myself.
That I would never have that peace, love or tranquility again without you by my side,
so I fought hard with you to stay and held your hand.

I was and still am selfish not quite ready to let you go.
You have taught me so much with your life experiences and your 3rd grade education,
but I’m still afraid of being without your gaze and I don’t know how to be without you.

You have been my other half that completes me.
Not some friend, mate or spouse, but you mom.
Who else can give me peace, hope, tranquility, encouragement, wisdom, discipline and love with only their eyes.

Your amazing brown eyes are my saving grace and my peace of mind.
Thank you for your strength and serenity, mom.
The messages from your brown eyes are what will carry me forth when you leave this plain.

Through your eyes we will survive.
Through your eyes we will carry your teachings.
Through your eyes we will live.

I Miss You


I miss your hands enveloping mine.
I miss your arm wrapping me in your warmth.
I miss your gaze filled with understanding and love.
I miss your words of encouragement, guidance, wisdom and kindness.
I miss your ears that listened without judgement.
I miss walking around and exploring our surroundings.
I miss visiting with you and learning about your youth filled days spent working the fields.
I miss you telling and showing me how men are supposed to act.
I miss your blessings.

I wish my wish would come true to spend some more time with you and record it so that I can show the following generation how they should live and love.

Gracias Papabuelo.

In the picture with my 60 something year old grandpa. He was feeding me at my 2nd birthday party. He lived to the ripe old age of 98.