my heart

life gives, life takes. but it is yours to make.

staten island we treasure ups. we weather downs. we cry like babies. we act like clowns. sometimes we despair, other times with ho...

the  birdie tree so filled with life i sit here thinking of what to say, looking back at the past 365days. my fingers are still, the ...

the language of cruelty is harsh and profane. the language of kindness is pure beauty, profound. looking down while looking up

pages torn from what could have been, tossed into the pile of what is. lost moments, lamented. rewritten then erased by reality and re...

here i sit as i do each day. i wait in this cage, i sit, wait and i pray. that perhaps now, today. perhaps this year. ...

we are cheetahs , run we can, but towards extinction we are headed, we need some help, not harm, from man!