I'll cry if I want to

Its my birthday

Hurrah

One years old

Mom got me this tie

For my present

Isn't it adorable?

I cry if I want to

After it is my birthday

I was not even allowed

To say high 

To those cutes in the window

At the Cafe cats 

What is the point 

Of showing me what's

On the other side?

To many problems

Too many suggestions

Not enough control

I could have sworn 

I walked into a war zone

There was that strange 

Trolley station

With nothing but homeless

The only customers

Were Jack and myself

I had to wait so long

To get around the corner

Just one stop

And people standing

On the streets 

As if they were rehearsing

Then the situation 

With the past favorite breakfast place

No more favorite

Couldnt even find

Cafe cats

A chabot 

Was there instead

Ah, after walking 

Up and down

It was kitty corner

Moved to a new location

And old apartment

Weird remembering 

Being a toddler

Inside staring out

While I was watching

The cat population inside

Only had a glimpse

Of the Chinese new year

My old neighborhood

And everyone acts as if 

I am a strnager

An unwanted one at that

I could not even eat 

My face froze

I was attempting 

To shove food inside

When I realized

That the nerve damage

Was worse

Frozen muscles

Mini stroke?

Great just another thing

To worry about

My old family home

Is now a dog park.

I wonder if they found

The body buried underneath?

All old homesteads

Have burials of the first

Inhabitants in California

No wonders 

Nothing is going right

All those old memories

Making me cry

At the oddest moments

And then there are those kids

My family had extras

Until Jimmy made us

His home for good.

Even my own siblings

Would whether play

The game of taking me out

Just so someone else

Can show up instead

Why provide them 

With a chance

Unless that is all they had

Growing up is strangers

Being told it was them

Or no mom

My mother was taken hostage

By people way back

Even had this girl 

Kim Harrison

Tall african girl 

With a white mother

Whose photo used to be up

At the Post office

For robbing banks

When she attended Berkley

Kim would not  leave us alone

She even introduced herself

As family!

When one is native american

And european

With no real issues towards

Slavery or racism

It is an odd thing

To have someone like her

Not get to make us uncomfortable.

Then she went off and joined

The Muslim movement

Just when those guys

Were arriving to learn to fly

In my hometown

Her look alike daughter

A by product 

Is called Najma

Wont stop making me angry

Thinking of the 9/11 

All those people 

Her father killed

And sitting there in front of me

No one will listen

Why else was so left behind

When Kim had to move

To Colorado with all the other

Fleeing Californians

Only to come back

With a white guy

It is like watching

Zelensky making fools

Of everyone 

Handing them flowers

And walking down the street 

He has killed all those children

Because he wont allow

A fellow group 

To have their independence

I am afraid even Trudeau

Was one of those today

Two years anniversary

On my sisters birthday

We always celebrate it

For her even though she is dead

Just so it is a reminder

Of a lost child.

Remember, remember

Cry for me

Valencia has gone up

In flames

As has a block in china.

All those people

Out of a home

Because someone 

Wants to smoke in bed.

My face feels weird

Poor rich millionares

The Russians always hide it 

But they are for the most part

Filthy rich

At least the ones we hear about

Not like in the old days

Those poets 

Would write stories

To break our heart

Only to come to America

And die happy rich guys.

That mother is most likely

Not the real one

Old Soviet habits

Steal a child

And raise it yourself

Then your will be blessed

Maybe she not even recall

The day a lost boy

Wondered into view

Wanting to know why

His family were not here

Or there

Wonder if  uncle John

Ever forgave me

For that thing

I don't know about

Turns out there were 

Alot of lost souls

In my childhood

Besides my dead sister

Only five years old

When her life was snuffed out

Her is another child

So, reminiscence

Of those blond Scandinavians

Afraid to say they were

Russians not Germans

Macarthism

Those horrible days

Of being black listed

Now I am being given

That rude shove 

Just because my cat

Is a Russian Blue

Actually, with his gold eyes

He is probably a 

Chanteuse, French!

I wont be getting close 

To Paris this summer

All the reservations

Are already gone

And I still have not gotten rid

Of my tumors

Multiple ones

Protruding as if I was pregnant

And over 55

Poor mother

Who had to be given

The lifeless body of her son

Whether or not it is hers

She raised him

While the wife just wants

What has the world come to

The Palm trees

Have been blown over

By the storms

A hundred years old

Brought to California

For postcard realestate

Come to sunny california

Where there is a pool in every yard

And Palm trees

Really they are not native

Which is why they don't withstand

Everyone is crying for them

While I see another two old houses

Have been torn down 

Up on old Bankers hill

Hundred years old

And part of the history

Of this town but they dont care

Cry for the Palm trees

But not the houses 

Where families

Lived and breathed

Fought and died.

Good for nothing

While my old downtown

Is a ghost town

Except where they put up

Tall hotels

On top of harbor sand

Just like San Francisco

Everyone moved away from

The safe streets

Because of fire

And found themselves

In the dark

When the big earthquake hit

These people wont even make it out

They will probably all die

In those glass structures

Progress and modernization.

I will cry if I want to

My parents suffered 

The consequences of being the wrong race

And their parents the wrong immigrant group

Little brothers and cousins

All gone and not coming back.

The Torsos should look at the headlines.....