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And Mass was peaceful…with words condemning violence….offerings of salvation….some bread….a sip of wine….

Talk of the insanity on this planet…….non-stop rockets ricocheted into crowds….gun-shots  in school halls….bombs in Brussels…Lord forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those.. 

A cleansing is felt as the symbol of the cross is made….inside a sanctuary….only to go back out to the world’s offerings….

Fuck me…..No….fuck you…..Nigga I put a cap in yo ass….motherfuckin this and motherfuckin that….

Salesmen….bankers….traders wheeling and dealing to no-one’s benefit but their own….

The philosophy that religion and business should be separate….leave your prayers at home….

Well…….What’s the point?

The homeless only know one volume….LOUD…..LOUD…..LOUD…

In the streets….the shelters….the drop-in centers…the soup lines….the church basements….McDonald’s….subway stations…public restrooms….a loudness prevails in every action….on every block….

And now I…once meek…I scream….yell….talk in decibels and octaves never thought possible to achieve…

Manhattan has become a giant baby’s playpen with all of us screaming for a parent’s hand…to be fed….changed…..cleansed….

Come-on de Blasio….we’re counting on you….Lift the needy….the sick….the cons….the criminals…the junkies….the K2 casualties…..the drunks….the financially devestated…..Pick us up…. teach us to walk….

But….do not….do not place a passifier in the mouths of babes….

That’s been tried before….

Loose balls drop-in bowls of piss left from the night before by men who howl at full moons in Manhattan’s midnights…..cursed….cursed….cursed…..

Nurses and psych-techs keep order in disorder….criminally crazy…or….just plain nuts…..patients play-out pasts….no life in the present…

Some silent…..not willing to show or tell a soul ’bout the brother’s act of rape…..a constant loudness in houses of addiction….abuse.. …no understanding…..No wonder he ran away…..

It is morning on 12 West…..Buenos dias….yes….Buenos dias indeed….Breakfast trays passed out….coffee dispersed…..and food rejected, I said I want a fried-egg sandwich….can’t you people get anything right?…..Fuck this….I’m going home, but, there is no home….

And this is what I do…..observe and report….just sit quietly and observe and report….

A meeting was held….limited invites….we few…..we lucky few….

Shariff held court in the back of the homeless shelter….to be young, black, angry, and uneducated…..lethal….

See my brothers, the self professed militant began, This is not no blessing….poverty is no blessing…..

The brothers nodded; shook heads under hoods in agreement, We’s got to be organizin’ up and down the lines my brothers…. let the word be heard….shout it out loud and proud…..Black is back….

An every once in a while glance came from white boys within ear distance, We Niggas now be stronger than ever….We be ownin’ this motherfucker lock stock and motherfuckin’ barrel, motions and shouts of, That’s Right brother,…..mixed with, Preach on now….keepin’ it real….keepin’ it real…

Ain’t no white boy in a business suit got your best interests at stake…..Ain’t none o’ them….Not a one… Bankers…lawyers…. record execs…motherfuckin teachers in schools nationwide…..Teachin’ da’ white man’s history, turns of heads and dragon’s breaths in disbelief….

Shariff paused and pulled his Castro cap down tighter… What you be lookin’ at? Now….what you be lookin’ at?

A white man with idealism waning, just sat still…not a thing to say…no past resume of liberal causes to present….just silence….

I said….What you be lookin’ at?….

A weathered hand ran through matted hair, I don’t know…..I don’t know….

There’s a way things are done in prison…..homeless shelters as well…..filled with a criminal element….seniority rules….the pecking order applies…..

Do not take the last donut….wait for the last cot left… chairs are in invisibly marked…business dealings never discussed….it’s a given….

Places are broken in-line….throw out what was learned in grade school….I’ll take mine motherfucker and nothing better be said….And that Is that….

Last man standing…..seeking-out the soft; do not show your hand….do not reveal any intelligence….

After all….they’re smarter than all of us….

That’s why they served time….

Morning brings the scent of bud in front of churches….in sandwich lines….down on 14th in front of P.A……all over this Manhatta…..the blunt is bold….

Young bloods….OG’s…..fairies dancing on rooftops….wannabe artists whose disciplines ran away…left in the night…gone…gone….gone….

And music blares from a blinking light lit speaker; dancing to beats in the streets as attorneys and acountants and accessors wake to a morning of French Toast and maple syrup….with wives that act in caring manners….

A quick buck is made on 16th…. dime bags sold to school kids….Can you change a Franklin?

Meanwhile the Kiteman floats over the city…..leaving love on every corner….an ease to the day’s events……Hit me up again ’round noon….

Take it all in….a deep breath….just one good deep breath….ahhhhhh…..

The day begins….

The old man went for a drive….a long drive…nowhere in particular….just drivin’

His wife of fifty-five years had died….left ’em in the middle of the night…channeled her spirit to another time and place…..so did he….

Took off for Texas…..maybe it was Iowa….I’m thinkin’ it was Vermont….He never said…all this is speculation….some lives are just speculation…..

Nothin’ was found out there…..I know that….Couldn’t have found anything ….He’s  lookin’….maybe….just lookin’ for peace….

It’s been a month now…..

Givin’ up hookers, Tommy said; a schmear was spread, Too much….too much, talkin’ to Jimmy the Gent; no words from Jimmy; mouth full as always…

It gets to be a habit…..it’s become a habit….nothing enjoyable….nothing…,hands through gray….

Nothing? Jimmy managed a word; pieces of pastrami flying…

Sure….the initial….the act….

I get that…

But after….no….nothing….Hollow….

Tommy, in between dips of Russian dressing, You gettin’ interspective….soul searching? Jimmy asked, wiping his jowels….

Not too much….not too much….just tryin’ somethin’ new, said the thin man, Somethin’ new….

I’ll place money…I’ll take that action….

You would Jimmy…..you would…

Frankie the fag had a few…fingered in the process….the losses mounted….along with the drinks….

Some motherfucker done stole my purse, Frankie spewed in a Southern drawl to call all the boys ’round….

Once I’s  in love an’ it was a blast….,off pitch, out of key, the Queen of the vagabonds continued her duet with Debbie…..

Soon found out….had a heart of glass…

What you lookin’ at homeboy….you probably the thief…..I knows ’em when I see ’em…uh…uh.uh.uh.uh…, waved the pointer; accentuated at the end with a grinding dip of the hips….

Soon turned out….be a pain in da ass…Pardon me sir, Frankie said with snaps and claps, I am her royal highness….respect is due….

Listen girls….Do you believe in love? Well I got something to say ’bout it, now….the best of Madonna; Frankie’s fav……

Satin sheets are very romantic…..Come-on…..you believe in love?….
Boys…I’m gonna go all night….

Money gone…
A wallet waiting in a dumpster..
And a hangover as always.
Awakened in a metal chair….

Head covered-over, a crochet shawl made by his mother, smells of the night before throughout the drop in center….

Slow-moving, losses uncounted, the age-old question, What to do now?…..

Frankie the fag had a few….
Nothing new….

Like Frankie said…..
In Manhattan….it’s always a full moon….

A Southern Belle played loud notes to the merchant of Venice outside the Astoria as bags were carried….strollers pushed….and panhandlers peddled…..

You think I’m this dumb plaything don’t ya, she bellowed softly….demurely….loudness in hushed tones….

My daddy told me to be careful with members of the tribe…..My momma told me to find myself a good Christian man…..Well that’s what I get….That is exactly what I get…..

Shylock kept looking forward….rolling a cigar between flossed teeth….usual procedures….

Her fur wrapped loosely….blonde hair blowing….considering her next move….

I have needs….do you hear me? ….I said….Do you hear me?…..Your not the only one with big plans…..grandiose schemes…. let me tell ya…

The cigar was placed firmly now in a wide-opened mouth; a money clip was pulled from pocket….

A couple of bills were tucked in a fragile hand, Go get your hair done….go to a spa….go  to a tea….just go…..go…..go…

And with that, the belle’s step became a strut…

These things we must do….