Wednesday, December 24, 2008

More than enough

I have more to say then I can write
More to write then I can say
More to do then can be done
More to remember that I forget
My pursuits and quest take me on a mental voyage through intellectual seas
I envision a future of a better me
The next moment will bring about a vast improvement to my empathy
The cry of humanity crushed under the weight of one trillion dollars they holler
Could you not have spared a few dollars for clean water for my baby?
Could they have not have used a few euros so I could have some clean clothes?
Nobody knows the depth of a man’s despair when he is entrapped in enslavement
Mentally, physically, spiritually,
As two black holes colliding is the gripping emotion of a man before a vile action is taken
Changing his destiny like a shifting of the axis on the intergalactic seascape
How can he recapture his yesterdays
His purity, his innocence?
Now penniless
His fortune overcome by his missteps
Many of us walk this planet with unhealed bleeding memories on our souls
They need a healing of their injuries or a complete recovery?
To return to a whole state of being
You were made in a unique perfection selected for prominence
No matter your name
No matter your color
No matter your country
You were made for brilliance,
See your destiny and shine

Fresh Out of Hate

No hugs
No kisses
No handshakes
I’ve got no love for you
No hellos
No goodbyes
No good mornings
No replies
No looks in the I
I got no kind of love for you
I got no love
No hate
To me you no longer exist
You died yesterday
I annihilate

Friday, December 19, 2008

on lockdown

As he sits locked away in his personalized cage
set to prison decay and die away
he grows to hate time he has not a watch
he tries in vain to forget all the doors are locked
morning reminds him and finds him
as his crime now defines him to confinement in prison
unthought of decision lead to a unanimously guilty conviction
his once young life ages violently
And at the same time grows lonely
He wants the darkness to make him disappear
Too depressed to shed a tear serving 80 consecutive years
he pushes its reality out of his mind
and tries to focus on hours and days
his future is a life long correctional maze
because of one days’ bloody rampage
that was on the front page time goes by
he almost forgets why the sun he seldom sees
remembers two bodies lay face down lifeless in the street
He misses the world and the summer heat
he did a dastardly feat
the rap he could not beat
falling in line with the daily routine
turns humans into machines
everyday he thinks of his freedom
that he knows will never come
he gradually succumbs to the daily boredom
of his incarceration

Wednesday, December 17, 2008

Bits & Pieces











News flash news flash
We are on a planet in deep deep outer space
We are right now spinning and turning
What holds and pushes us is gravity

The more you love the more of yourself you lose
we too quickly forget that our stay here is short
only when our life is ending do we understand how we should have lived it
live life as a dead man who has returned from the grave
Life is too short to spend it with someone who makes you suffer


DubbleX (What Did I Say?)

Some poems are not to be written
Some poems are not meant to be recalled
Some poems are made to be forgotten
Some poems are written to be lost
Some poems are not made to get attention
Some poems are made not to be heard
The best poems are made without words

Plywood Poem
My words and lines mix with wood designs the two combined plywood and rhymes this wood use to be part of a tree that grew steady until the lumber jack was ready to cut it with an electric machete

Life is like a cold slice of pizza it still tastes good the next day

Life is like a cold slice of pizza what you cant finish today you finish tomorrow

Saturday, December 13, 2008

Is It Love Or Is It Hate

Observing night club revelers
Lust hangs in the air like smoke
Tits wiggle and jiggle to natures natural rhythms
Asses shake to beat breaks night marauders appreciate
Out on the dance floor don't hesitate
Let the sex smell germinate as people look to hook up with a mate to date
Some find love others find hate
People mix and mingle mostly single
Loud music overwhelms conversation
Fights break out with altercation
Drinks get mixed and pounded to the state of intoxication it's a common situation
Drugs are smoked and sniffed to get that lift
Heads spin while the dj spins the later it gets the crowd gets thin
But before that the dance floor gets packed
The sexes interact
The lights get dim people line up to get in
Drinking juice and gin to enhance the tipsy grin
A night that starts out with a loud crowd ends in lonely despair or a sudden affair

Wednesday, December 10, 2008

SOCIAL CHANGES

When gentrification comes
The crack houses become condos
The burnt out buildings now are renovated
with sliding glass windows
and of course the poor have to go
3 families get packed into a studio
when that city wind blows
Gentrification in
bodegas gets replaced by pricey cafĂ©’s
loud weekend parties get moved away
the color of pedestrians changes
like traffic lights from black and Latino to white
Gentrification strikes leaves minorities
homeless with court eviction fights
when rents go up to sky heights
Slenderized joggers replace baby carriage
pushing mama’s baseball caps and baggy jeans
get replaced by suits and ties and reconstruction teams
The hood gets changed like a radio station
The poor move to a shelter location
Everyone thinks this is progress as
These Harlem slums are slowly repossessed
By wealthy interests and of course
The neighborhood name must be changed
Central Park North is no longer the same
As venture capitalists entrench their chains
Only the poor complain
Gentrification is a steam rolling train.

Saturday, December 6, 2008

Manhattan Forest or Zoo...

I walk through the enchanted forest of tall office trees
with small bushes of brown stones
fresh concrete grows daily
and smothers all life underneath it
it grows square and gray and rigid alongside steel trees
wild criminal animals roam and attack until caged in the local zoo
keep the animals locked in the city zoo
they lock up us humans too
my cell block is Manhattan
every where I go shit happens
my job is my prison
they keep me locked in institutions
giving me their solutions
they tell me this is the home of the free
but people around me report everything they see
because I live as I believe that I am free to be me
so institutions looks at me funny
as a matter of fuck this job they can keep their money

A beautiful mist of pollution hangs over Manhattan’s chemical rain forest
Mercurys SUVs Fords Toyotas and Mitsubishi all add to it
Cry out in horn chirps and other species
vehicles for emergencies screaming sirens
EMS FDNY and NYPD
Race over tar covered postmodern dirt roads
Saving us from fire and death is their goal
This city terrain is slighted and a jagged edge covers the horizon
Our streets covered in human daytime congestion
The forgotten get swallowed with gassy ingestion
Few stop and colorful lights to question
This city life is an unseen obsession

Wednesday, December 3, 2008

Time is up

I have done my time

I have served you faithfully for a decade that stretched 15 years

my tears that I have cried over you I now use to clean your scent from my soul

I have taken pounds of your ponderous abuse
been forced to swallow your flaming words

I have held your hand and pulled you upright

I have protected you from fiery arrows of angry x lovers

have suffered countless needless tongue lashings and reconstructed myself from the glob of sorrow you left swirling on the floor

I vowed to re-mold myself
not with dough or clay but steel and brick

I prayed to gods of many religions to see if any would listen
to resurrect me from what seemed my sealed fate

yet my soul can't stand no more of the torture of your treatment

I step forward from my emotional prison and find myself the target of judgment and long nosed glances

what have I done but desire to finish my life in the company of peace and joy

what law has come down from above that says I must continue in a life that crushes my passions

I have imprisoned myself willfully and willfully I now turn the key
I make a mad dash for the gates with my eyes wide

to remain with the one who has forgotten my needs that pulse daily with hot desire is like being a black eclipsed sun living in denied insanity

my dreams still dance in front of my eyes

with a final grasp you offer me to stay confined to your insensitivity
and I respond smilingly happy divorce

Sunday, November 30, 2008

Monday, November 24, 2008

TOO MUCH PAIN

To put it to you plain
I feel so insane
So much pain
From my brain
Hot tears run down my brown face
I get surrounded by sadness
And drowned in misery
To me it’s a mystery
Where all the pain comes from
It bubbles up inside of me
Causing me great agony
I wonder how to be free of tragedy
Thoughts of suicide run through my head
But deep down I know I won’t be better off dead
If I could just get around the pain and the tear stains
I want to remain but I need a change
I wonder if I can continue in this vein
Every day seems such a strain
Daily now depression grips me in an angry fist
I try to twist and persist I resist
I need to see a therapist to assist
My days disappear in too many tears
Too many fears
Too many hard years

Friday, November 21, 2008

The People’s Republic of America

The dictator knows who I call and who calls me
The dictator knows where I go and who I see
The dictator knows the sites I surf the emails I send
The text messages I receive
They know all my bank accounts and social security numbers and fake ID’s
They know my race age and sexual orientation
they know my tribal nation
Political affiliation and activist organization
I have been filmed and photographed too numerous of times to mentioned
filed and data based placed
I have been tracked by satellites
Followed with the GPS OnStar hooked to my car
The dictator censors the news so I only hear the untrues
Their propaganda campaign distorts perceptions
Protection from terrorist
Protect me from dictatorships
As my civil liberties have been stripped
Innocent citizens detained tortured and whipped
Illegal wars to over throw and take more
The Geneva Convention is something that’s not mentioned
Extraordinary Rendition covert political CIA missions
My fellow Americans your democracy has been hijacked
Not by terrorist
But the Patriot Act
Read the facts
No search warrants
Unlimited wirer taps
cast your vote note write it in quotes
they change the name
political scapegoats
promote their result
the so called cleansing of the voting roles
Blacks are bounced falsely accused criminals on parole
Government officials on company payrolls
The dictator commits crimes without consequence trails or sentence
Hiding behind the lines of its classified access denied no further reply
As another war looms and more innocent die.
They put a microchip in my finger tip
Tattooed a serial number on the back of my neck
They want me to believe land of the free home of the brave
Didn’t they kill millions of Native Americans and made my ancestors slaves

Wednesday, November 19, 2008

Romeo & Juliet

You are my Juliet
I am your brown skinned Romeo
Love is love, not traditional
She loves me because I am her mixed shot of Basquiat
Meets Gil Scott
I am her Red Dread
Our love is original
It rocks the Richter scale
To the highest decibel shaking society
I love her because she’s my sun
If one day the moon rose instead of the sun
That is how a day without her would feel
Social norms - our love is ancient and soulful
Every day with her is a red wine toast

Sunday, November 9, 2008

slowing down film speed to go with time





playing melodica at a recent feature at nightengales in nyc

This instrument is used mostly as back-up for reggae music. I've been playing for 20 years and Joy claims I'm as good as Augustus Pablo who was one of the best melodica players ever.

video

Saturday, November 8, 2008

HIDE AND SEEK!

Things get lost in my one bedroom apartment
I think somewhere there must be a hole
I have lost my toothbrush and flash drive
I stroll around the house and wonder where they went
My apartment is not big mind you about 650 square feet
a place to eat, a place to sleep, a place to peep and a place to leak
so it is quite the strangest thing when things just disappear
until I suddenly realize there must be a hole some where
How else can it be explained that in such a small place
so many things can remain unclaimed
To put it plain it’s a hide and seek game
that is slowly driving me and my lover insane
why just today all the lighters were gone
This includes two long black and red kitchen lighters
A light green and a dark green bic lighters
A Philips screwdriver, two nail clippers my lovers left
blue check two cartons of sidewalk chalk Bob Marley talking CD
A million times one of the three remotes to plasma TV
has gone missing, still can’t find my flash drive
and my ipod disappears for weeks
my pens and pencils at least a squad and
Now a large sharp kitchen knife is gone for two weeks
Make me wonder if my lover wished to be my legal wife
or take my life in a fit of strife
Two weeks later the knife reentered the apartment in the refrigerator
In a salad in the vegetable compartment
my protein-shaking cup is gone plus twenty bucks
Joy’s make up disappears and a piece to my melodica is gone
With a Marijuana oz of exotica
Lately this game has gone deeply strange
My toothbrush appeared on the sofa
in uncooked turkey meat I was about to eat
I had to look all over then the usual piece of paper with a phone number
I have given in to this losing thing roll
And have stepped up my search for the hole

Friday, November 7, 2008

PETER THE HUNGARIAN PEDDLER THE BIKE MESSENGER SONNET

The bike ride I almost died
I almost died
the truck collide
came weaving by
every day I almost die
from 9 to 5
and they wonder why I drink after I ride
biking every day is my secret suicide

Tuesday, November 4, 2008

TWO MINDS, ONE HEART by Joy & DubbleX

I don’t have my own mind I said
Whaddaya’ mean he asked
You inhabit my mind I said
That’s a really good line he said

You inhabit my mind
All the time Joy thought up this line
Joy thought up this line so I typed it in
This computer of mine

It’s not just a line I said
You inhabit the deeper regions inside my head
How do you say that word, hypothalamus
I’ll look it up in the dictionary

My thoughts of you are extraordinary
Because you’re extra-more than ordinary
I want to lick you like a strawberry
A love like this longs for poetry

Our love breaks the laws of humanity
Humility and sanity creating a whole
New meaning for the word boundaries
As we dance through our life in poetry

Your life is my idea I say
I show him my tits in play & say
This is performance poetry at its best
I’m here at your behest
This is only the beginning test
Our lives have become an unfinished poem
Put your worries to rest he replies
We’re here today as mother earth’s guests

Monday, November 3, 2008

DON'T GO THERE ...

Don’t be that poet who takes too long
Who goes on and on
That poet we don’t get
that poet that as soon as you finish we forget
Don’t be that poet who sounds like every other poet
or that poet who sounds good and theatrical but who’s words are too dull
Don’t be that poet who hides behind their poem
Or that poet who just talks about sex just to talk about sex
And please don’t be that poet who writes poetry about sex but never has sex
Or worse yet that poet who is not a poet who writes & reads his poems about sex
to try to get other poets to have sex with him
Don’t be that drunken poet or too high poet who stands on the stage and laughs and can’t remember the poem or read it
Don’t be an undercover rasicist nazi poet and use the stage as your soap box mic stop to push infantile political platforms cause that poet will get punched
Don’t be that poet who I can’t hear or that poet who talks so fast it's unclear
Don’t be that poet who tells me about your poem before you read me your poem
And most importantly don’t be that poet who listens to me
Be the poet you want to be and write poetry you want to write and read
The worst poet to be is the poet we never see

Tuesday, October 28, 2008

Inside The Flow

my flow is fluid
like there's nothing to it
I just do it
I flow like rapids
automatic
it’s just my habit
rhymes multiply like rabbits
my flow is lavish it is just
ridiculous
an avalanche of words I bust
that hit you
you'll think something bit you
my words attack you
leave your eardrums bruised
my flow goes on cue
drowning in the rhymes I spew
my flow spirals in circles
it’s a verbal miracle
when you hear it go
my flow steams
like hot springs
and bubbles and pops
pours like waterfalls
My flow is wide as it’s tall
my fluidity is atomic
as dangerous as suicidal
fundamentalist Islamic
my flow is as beautiful as Adonis
it’s compelling
like Joe Lewis beating up Max Schemling
if words were stocks this one would be selling
so buy it and try it
my flow over flows the levee
cause it runs high and heavy
hit you with liquid rush bevy
it’s quicker then sliver flashes like sirens lights
leaves you desiring more than a cure
I evaporate like water then make my flow down pour

Sunday, October 26, 2008

Slowing down time to go with the flow






A LIST POEM

A to do list is not a poem she said
This is my reply

To Do List:

1. Make Love
2. Kiss
3. Cuddle
4. Snuggle
5. Talk
6. Explore
7. Repeat All

Thursday, October 23, 2008

FUCK THE SLAM

Everybody wants to part of the slam
As for me I don’t give a damn
I am who I am
Fuck the slam
And political poetry cronies
And the fake ass phonies
People packed in to stand on the stage
and spit their memorized page
To votes and number gage
It’s all just a fashion craze
The art of poetry is not a sport
That’s what I was taught
If I wanted to perform for points
I would have been a gymnast and studied acrobatics
My pros and rhymes are I, not to be judged politically
How can one poem be better than another it all depends on what you feel?
What gets touched and uncovered and revealed
Numbers serve to disrespect each other and to be called a champion because you win
Slammers stand and clamor for the glamour
Thinking they are champions and me an amateur
How do you get those high votes as you speed through poems?
So fast your words get choked?
Lost in the hoopla the words are no longer the star
It’s a sideshow poetic rodeo that’s why people go
Gasping for air battling toe to toe
Just give me zeros cause for me
Votes are not needed to boost my ego
As scores range from high to low me winning a show
would be a miracle cause I yell and go slow
I got my own flow

Wednesday, October 22, 2008

NEW YORK CITY INMATES

In the city millions of people are
hidden by the tallness of buildings
Covered and buried alive beneath the ground
Millions of people unseen behind walls
Sealed in apartment windows are covered
And stares and look glances at shades blinds and curtains
reveal no form no sign of life
All except the window light unseen in the daytime city
Dwellers assume no one is home
Elevated trains pour past my window
The thousands of people insides seem invisible
In the distance cars and trucks shoot past
From zero to sixty
Their drivers not seen appear ghostly
Millions of people invisible set high in the skyline
Dark windows render me blind
I hate this city because of the lie
Told me there are 8 million people
Everywhere I go I never see more than 25

Thursday, October 16, 2008

Special Forces At work

This is a new way to play when I'm totally exhausted. Seven year old energetic boys will make anyone exhausted, but it's especially hard for me with the weekend schedule. The weekend comes & I'm worn out & frazzled. I just want to zone out with a ball game & have a nice glass of red wine with some good home cooked food.

This is how I amuse myself instead.

To see the video of our game click the title above!

Monday, October 13, 2008

DubbleX hits a balance ~ Dig it!

video
Joy calls it the boogie board cause she says I boogie on this board. Really it's just called a balance board. I dig it that she makes up her own words for a lot of things. Is that a thing that only poets do?

Thursday, October 9, 2008

Can you see me...

i turn around and show you my back
so that
you can not see
can not really see me
and can maybe see me
what you see before you is easy
a man
a human being
a person
this is what you see
and you see it more when you see my face and my eyes
you see what is before you
but you forgot
as long as i see you
i can not see myself
see what you see
cause to me
i am a soul
a vision of light and energy
that is connected to everything i see and don't see
when you see me
you cannot see
the tornadoes of words that twirl in my mind endlessly
the thoughts that would sit me in the company of Plato and Nizche
when you see me
you can not tell that i can see the future and know what lies beyond the stars
when you see my face you see me a man
but truly what you cant c is that i am a soul strolling through eternity

Monday, October 6, 2008

My Son Samoa & Me Getting Ready for Halloween



My son asked me what do you like about the earth
I told him I like the sunrise and the cold raindrops
I like the rough smooth rocks
He said I like the sunshine in my eyes

to see everything and the beautiful trees
I say I like grass and the smell of burning incense
flowing in my nostrils

I like the feeling of smushed earth dirt
between my brown bear colorful painted toes
He said I like the feeling of the floor under my feet

video

Friday, October 3, 2008

A Starving Artist Striving

Starving artist
With a pen piercing his wrist
The pain of the sacrifices
He has made to this life as an artist
Poet or poetess
He’s starving to exist
Everybody knows most features at shows
Are not the best artists but the ones the host & or hostess know best
Those getting paid the large paper dollars aren’t the best artists either
We are forgotten in the world’s focus of who is the best artist
The real artist is poor and hopeless
Only lives for his creative bliss
So insane and ahead of his time the world assumed he was out of his mind
He would straight up panhandle and sleep on subways and streets
He lives off of words and left over break beats
He’s lonely and too strange to converse with
His fashion can be questionable while
his family is surprised he lacks the proper paper cash obsession
Call him a failure cause his mind is filled with words and music instead of dollar signs
The starving artist invents the mainstream
Then is killed before he can get credit
Cash is used only for housing body fuels and artistic tools
His art is not a labor - it’s really all he can do
He lacks skills and abilities to cope in society
The world understands physical ails but rarely pays attention to mental disabilities
Or other kinds of abnormalities
Our society is based on norms and similarities
The starving artist in most of us is killed very early
By mind control of commercial TV that teaches its citizens to think similarly
those who don’t watch are immediately deemed crazy & looked at suspiciously
The starving artist doesn’t watch TV
Mainly to keep his mind free
The starving artist lives off ingesting creativity
The starving artist survives through his ability to create

Saturday, September 27, 2008

Inside The Rhythm

In the drum rhythm
I hear the echoes of ancient ancestors
Deep in the Congo
beats become airborne like musical pollen transmitting sound waves
tribal festive rhythms crescendos crashing beach waves
covered in funky syncopated shades
stretching along lines
back to the birth of sunshine
as dancers gyrate to salsa calypso faith
deep in the heart and heat of the steel beat
lies a reservoir of history and culture
the rhythm calling the dehydrated to hydrate from its aquatic pools
music gushes like water from a hydrant
flashing djembe taunt string hands
curved and chiseled from wooden limbs
giving life to the musical spin
all those in ear shot hear the roots of be bop, hip hop and rock
falling from tropical sun drenched landscapes
is where this earth rhythm originates
I wish to dig my soul to the depths of dense hollow beats
to flame flickering wind swept rhythms
That link Homo habilis to Homosapien to all mankind
music that moves the deaf to the blind
feel the vibration reverberate through tribal nations
call all to this powerful pop wow
where middle eastern indigenous rhythms meet African Cuban Indian in a drum circle at fevered pitch
spirit dancing unifying the masses in peace with this musical feast
Drums sounds rise like thick black smoke
giving all listeners hope music is my dope
These drums beat for passion
these drums beat for fire
these drums beat and reek with the essence of life
they express words yet to be formed
feelings of love loss and mourn
these drumming rhythms transcend all language and twists of tongue
I hear the beats rain down on me, penetrating my soul
let these beats be played
let them be played loud and furious
bust like caps to make hands clap
to make bodies move
let us be lost and found in its groove
funky ass beats linger like memories
I cling to the rhythm
cling to the rhythm
that catches me in its net of stretched animal skinned beats
pounded out as each drummer drums his drum as one
to the death
music is our life breath our two step
let music up hold my rep
as time is kept
the drum beat that moves feet
from the crypt walk to drum talk
hard calloused hands
ricochets rushing rhythms entangled in booming bass
a drum circle let the beat keep pace
rhythms etched and fill empty space
ecstasy shows on the face
as the sweetest rhythm painful memories get erased

Wednesday, September 24, 2008

THAT FLAIR by dubblex & Joy

Room for exploration
want to touch every part of your body
like I was running for president
your body is the nation
want all parts of you to vote
for my sexual sensation
I saw something there
beyond the clothes you wear,
that sexy glare
something there you were unaware
you possessed this flair
wanted to share this brown skin
with your fair short red hair
and matching trim
so fine and fair that short red hair
I had to get to know you better
And I can’t figure out why
Whose ticket do I have to pay
To get to know which play
Comes next in this game
It can’t always be the same
I won’t always be this tame
I can catch this moment of fame

XX

We hustle and fight to live this life

Those who give in never cash in on the win

Thursday, September 18, 2008

The Joy Of Joy

If I could travel back in time I would relive all the moments
With you time and time again.
Rewind moments and events replay days and pieces of time
From laughing love making licking lyrics
To poetic prophetic nights of tears flowing fears
Waking neighbors with blasting reggae
Getting that 3 am lay
clear mornings of sizzling Haze Kush & regs mixed with oatmeal and eggs
To reading poetry on the stage
To finding that lost poem page
To GPS long lost travels
To Costco’s to pinched nipples
In pained inferno, finding & transcribing neglected journals
Long held stares
Twisting my hair
Holding bare hands on park walks
Forever talks
Unraveling humanity’s mysteries
Ending marriage histories
Reading our writings to each other
Isolating ourselves from the world like 2 drug addict lover-writers
This could be my heaven

Tuesday, September 16, 2008

if you should succeed in one thing you learn success is nothing and the journey to the destination is the true joy of the travel.

Daylight is covered and uncovered by darkness.

Thursday, September 11, 2008

November 3rd Club

Hey peeps, just a word. Check out the latest issue of the November 3rd Club and see all the great poets including me.
People I recognize from facebook are Bill Abbott, Tony Brown, Patricia Smith plus many more fine poets.
Please go check it. I thank Joy for submitting for me. Joy's great at this admin stuff, me - I live & write. I'm an artist. Don't I have it easy with a woman like Joy?

Not really folks I teach Special Ed for a living - but anyway please please check it out.

Sunday, September 7, 2008

Themes on peace, war & destruction ..........................

Peace is what stands between us and warfare.

Those seduced by war long for resolutions that never come.

Peace is charming and war is seductive.

Those who abandon peace struggle to regain its charms.

Peace becomes treasured once abandoned.

A planet covered in pollution will cause humanity's destruction.

Along with each growing city new pollutions grow.

A revolution happens one mind at a time.

When you're living on borrowed time every minute counts.

Those who watch TV watch their lives go by.

At the site of injustice let not your reaction be no action.

Those who struggle through troubles savor their triumphs.

If society controls your mind it also controls your actions.

Those whose convictions blow in the breeze get caught up in every storm

All In A Day's Work

went to rite aid
drank a big bottle of gatorade
did not pay
sat in massage chair
joy and i got lots of stares
want to get my ears pierced
piercing guy not there
ate a chicken roll
shot lots of video
guy in restaurant tried to prevent me from taking a piss
offered him a dollar to pee
got past him and peed
too much to write

Monday, August 25, 2008

The Prius Cheats Death...

I was reaching for the lotion in the glove compartment of the jet black Toyota Prius. We were at a stop light. I saw a bus behind us. The bus started to move and I realized within seconds he was going to hit us. Joy put her foot on the gas to attempt to escape but the car could not move fast enough and we got whacked right in the bumper, right back, breaking the tail light. The bus driver was mad, said "He would loose his job". He started waving his hands as Joy jumped out to talk with him. The bus stopped in the middle of the street. All of the passengers on the bus looked on, anxious and upset that their forward progress had been halted. Within about 20 minutes a lot of official people were on the scene: MTA supervisors' and NYC police officers. They all wanted to hear the story. Some took pictures and statements. The passengers from the bus were all transfered like a human herd to another bus. People took sides as to whom was at fault.
The police took my name. The MTA supervisor guy told Joy to take the car to Shea Stadium to the gypsies to knock out the dent that was made. Joy was skeptical about going on such a treasure hunt. We waited for all the reports to be made and insurance info exchanged. As I sat in the car with the doors open I felt pain in my neck, a slight whip lash I thought to myself. In hindsight we were luck not to be hurt after being struck by the ten ton city bus. We drove off to Bob Marley music glad to be off that corner.

Sunday, August 24, 2008

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