Boom

Here we go

Swinging in

Like Tarzan

Roaring loud

Like King Kong

See, hear

Now listen here

Young-blood

We've come

In search of

Alkebulan.

What?

You tellin' us

You're not sure

Where is this place?

You ask.

Now listen here, son.

Long live the Sahara sun!

One that's been around...

For many a-men,

'nd women, too.

Alkebulan:

Afrika.

A place of ancient history

One datin' back to B.C.

See, hear

Now listen here

Young-blood

Ya better not forget

The name: Alkebulan!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gwaYHsPwb7Y.

28.06.2023.

#ALKEBULAN. (c)

Happy birthday to whomever has a birthday today or one

yet to come later on in the year.

Always be grateful to see another day - some people went to sleep last night but never woke up this day. A year older we grow, as birthday after birthday comes and goes. One season will change into another, and the youthful vibrant hairs over time may turn to grey,

but as my birthday approaches,

I hope to celebrate life and being born, sent to my family and friends. I'll spend time

with them all as we prepare to pray as thanks for life, and I set out on a mission to somehow perfectly cut the cake. All the while basking in their company while we stuff our faces with peanut ice-cream, red velvet cake, and a room filled to the brim with laughter, conversation and joyous cheer.

The tattoo

On his neck read

"Remember me..."

I made a point

To remind myself

That if he ever did

Anything worth being

Remembered for

I would

David Burdett

6/28/2023

I don’t mind

’cause it doesn’t matter

just ask Alice

or the Mad Hatter

hallucinogenic

subject matter

words bounce

crystals shatter

unconscious

chitter-chatter

mind on fire

thoughts scatter

explosive ideas

on a silver platter

in the end

it’s mind over matter

i tell her im sorry

after the fact

laying there bleeding

flat on her back

her face isnt a face

but instead a painting of fear

i kneel down to her

and wipe her blood like a tear

but where to hide her

in the woods? no

i want to keep her

but no one can know

i didnt mean to kill her

but these things go too far

i just wanted a friend

but things fall apart

so i take her head

and give the rest to the pigs

she'll be preserved

and pretty like this

They call her strong

So she pours the coffee

They call her brave

So she paints another lipstick smile

They call her tough

So she grits her teeth through the pain

They call her courageous

So she puts on her cape

They call her compassionate

So she calls a grieving friend

They call her selfless

So she sets aside her plan

They call her capable

So she grabs her car keys

They call her persistent

So she opens the door

They call her competent

So she weaves through the traffic

They call her clever

So she narrowly avoids a fender bender

They call her caring

So she knocks on the door

They call her loving

So she reaches out to hug her friend

They call her attentive

So she listens to the fears

They call her empathetic

So she cries alongside

They call her helpful

So she puts together a meal train

They call her generous

So she is the first to cook

They call her faithful

So she says another prayer

They call her independent

So she dares not ask for help

They call her steadfast

So she dare not give up today

They call her reliable

So she does it all over again–tomorrow

I'm afraid. I'm afraid that as I get older, birthdays will start to lose meaning. My father, and most of his friends, turn 50 this year. Do they care? Does it mean anything to them? Will my annual renaissances start to blur and run together, watercolors on an ever-shrinking blank page? Or will I continue to feel each pulse, each sweeping revolution of the hand? I can't tell for which I'm hoping anymore. Maybe both. Maybe neither.

Will I make it to 50? A few birthdays ago, I didn't think so. I didn't want to. I didn't want to make it to 25. What changed? Me?

Last time I saw my grandmother, she said she didn't want to hit triple digits (keep me off the machines). She married my grandfather in 1969. I wonder how he feels about that? Will he be the one to sign the forms for her? How many birthdays until that happens? I think she's 78 deep already.

In November, I'll hit the post again, pass go, collect my 200. Maybe I'll know then.

My parents divorced when I was five, and as an only child, my childhood was almost always entire days with just my mom and me. These days included movies followed by lunch or ice-cream at Rompelmeyer; birthday dinners at Benihanas or Il Boschetto; trips to Disney World, Bermuda, Trinidad, Europe, Canada; Broadway plays; ballet at Lincoln Center or City Center; rainy days, snow days or Saturdays of Monopoly, 221B Baker Street, chess, 500 rummy; Sunday church then Sunday afternoon tv movies... It was a very full childhood for which I am forever grateful. Despite being the only child of a single parent in a neighborhood where that was distinctly frowned upon, I was beyond fortunate.

I have a single memory of one whole day spent with my dad. I was fourteen. I spent the night at his apartment and we were up at 4 am to catch a boat. We had a cooler full of Colt 45 for him. I had a ham sandwich and a ginger ale in my backpack. Near the dock we bought some minnows for bait then boarded a fishing boat. We were on the water for hours. My dad made friends immediately and introduced me around with more than a little pride. This is my baby girl, Danny. Watch out for her. He fished a little, drank a lot, and spent some time playing cards below deck. I learned to put the hook through the eye of the minnow and almost won the pot by catching the biggest fish. It ended up being the second biggest. I remember how happy he was, bragging about the fish his baby girl caught. Or maybe he was just happy I was there doing something he loved with him. It was a good day. I wish we'd managed more of them before memories and pictures were all I had left of him.