I hoped that you felt better.
I even yearned more than what happened did not come to past
I did not want to lose you, because you mean the world to me.
When I was too sick to climb out of bed
You were too good to leave me alone
Sent the scent of flowers and the arm of cards to reach me.
Now you have taken to your bed.
Which is of sickness and God forbid not unto death.
So I know my duty
Because this is a temporary portion
I will set out to help bring you to the land of the healthed ones.
Because this is what friends do
And this is more than friendship
You are my kinfolk.

The divine gave the birth certificate of an angel to my veins
When the redness of Lamb's blood wrote on the walls of my heart.
It was on the finger of the Most High.
The doctors murmured I had to be cut out.
They pointed to me in the ultrasound and said to the surgeon: Cut it out.
Because otherwise the suspense of the womb would unborn me dead.
They say what the Lord gives He takes away
The doctors determined the only thing a normal birth could give
Would be to take me from myself
So that only a headstone would remain.
That stone would not cry out
But be silent, forever
The only place my name would appear
Would be in tearful sighs
And marked stones.

But imagine if that name was a question
That only worship could answer
The finger of the Lord scribbled Michael
Because He heard that cry.
Imagine that my other name was a statement that hoped I would live.
That prayed I would count as belonging to the land of the living.
Have strength like a rock
And not just a name on a stone.
The finger of the Lord etched Binka.
On the wall of a heart
That was made of living, precious stones.

God said I will redeem your hope.
So that when I was held
It was the first time since the beginning
I did not face the option of being disembodied
Now I had to be strength embodied
I would not ever have to claw myself back into the womb
Because I always climbed out into life
And now there is no turning back.

President Reagan sat by himself in the White House
Trying to understand what had happened.
He heard his wife scream
What have you done with my husband?
I want the real Ronnie back!
He sighed.
This is what happens when you listen to experts.
Reagan had been in debates before.
From Kennedy to Brown to Buckley to Carter.
He did it his way.
He won his way.
Reagan always liked stories and humor.
Details and data, not so much.
He always thought that statistics don’t feed people.
Because people can’t eat an equation.

But the experts said that he should have more knowledge.
Reagan listened to them.
The thing was, it was too much knowledge.
And Reagan had to be president.
So when he debated, he was tired.
The youngest looking 73 year old man.
Just looked ancient at this point.
He held onto the podium
As if it had answers.
But the podium gave him nothing.




His actor’s instinct called up an old line.
There you go again.
It worked against Carter.
But Mondale neutralized it.
Mondale was good.
Not like Kennedy, who was more passionate.
He remembered Bobby very well.
He would have made a great president, if he had lived.
Or like Buckley, who had the scholarly instinct.
Because he read books when Reagan played football without a helmet.
Reagan defeated both of these men.
But he did not beat Mondale.
Because Mondale had answers for everything Reagan said.
Reagan pondered to himself.
I must have something for which Mondale does not have an answer.
I must make something that Mondale cannot answer.
But I cannot tell the experts.
They are nice people.
But they don’t know debate, I do.
So I can file it away.
It would be a break in case of emergency punchline.

The phone rang and it was Roger Ailes.
Ailes said, Mr. President you were not at your best.
But the sun will rise again.
Use a laugh line as your life line.
Rely on personal experiences, not dead data.
Remember Mr. President this is your re-election.
Reagan took that to heart.
And the second time around, Ronnie was back.
He grinned because this time it was fun.
But Mondale was still good.
And then the question came.

The question for which Ronnie was born.
It was about  President Kennedy’s working hours during crisis.
And if Reagan had the stamina to match Kennedy.
Reagan smiled.
It was time to pull out the joke.
He said, I will not make age an issue in this campaign.
I will not exploit for political purposes my opponent’s youth and inexperience.
Reagan delivered it perfectly.
And suddenly, he heard laughter
Laughter from the questioners.
Laughter from the audience.
Even laughter from Mondale.
Tears of laughter.
Reagan drank his water and smiled.
The Gipper scored a touchdown again.
And hit it out of the park.

The queen's intake of men is shown to us.
The breath born by tears dulled by mid-wives.
I see no angst in him, to steal my trust.
I told son Happy birth, you have a life.
I think he has my face, all where I look.
Even his squint is mine, that twinkled sigh.
My son's names should all be in all baby books
Someone raises eyebrows and says, He's a guy.
My wife and I conversed at length to name.
I said his first word should always be Dad
My wife giggled and said you'll be the same
I think I want Junior to get the name I had
My name is the best I gave as who I am
He’s fighter born to stand as giant’s shoulders
You look upon his face you see his brand
He’s easily made to prepare to be all soldier.
His love of cry is just his first war speech
Men will either salute or say yes preach.

Don’t tangle with this poetry, it would be ******-suicide.
It would be better to enjoy it, so that we are unified.
Don’t act like it s the worst to admit the greatness first.
Because it’s mighty petty of you to nod your head while saying you hate this verse.
You say it’s criticism, I say there is no one there to listen.
Because my vision puts me into the position for wisdom.
So you can count on me, all the way to zero while I'm in this cockpit.
Then I am fly here when I move into your atmosphere in this rocket.
But the only vision haters know is television based off a reality show.
I write about the struggle that those who live empty bank account to salary know.
This is my outfit, you can charge me and I will be your outlet.
Better buy a new battery, because they said this skill is battery and I don’t doubt it.
These terms are like the third one where a president was barred from running again.
This poetry is more than potential it’s legacy, because we will rise to see the sun again.

God said to Adam heed your salvation is by woman’s seed.
Human’s need comes when Christ saves in a great stampede.
He’s coming with fighting forces all mounted on white horses.
Christ is the Morning Star and our brightest sources.
I’ll be captured in the Rapture and dressed up so dapper.
There’ll be no tears, forever smiles and everlasting laughter.
I’ll see myself posted on the wall when God tagged my selfie.
I”ll get and inherit a name above so now I’m wealthy.
The Book of Life has my name so that I can proclaim.
Worthy is the Lamb who was slain for sins when he came.

I said that I was something
They said I’m something else.
If I get whipped.
At least I can show what is in me.
And that fluid spilled
Will help life grow whether it lays to rest.
When I have to walk
Someone on the other side is sure to enjoy my company.
Not because I am needed, but because they missed me.
I stand on the shoulders of giants.
Because it is better to collaborate than to slay.
I can see a lot farther from this vantage point.
I see someone climbing up the mankind of height.
Because that somebody must stand on me.
And because the person beneath me did not fall.
I must make sure to hold my ground and dig deep.
So they can see out even further than I can.