WHAT I LIKED MOST ABOUT MY YOUNGER SELF
Dear Unsealed,
A I look back in time
Of reason & rhyme,
I liked my persistence
Of whom I was in existence
Of time & space
In the rat race
Of life & dreams.
But it seems
I had to go through many changes,
In different decades of stepping into the light
Out of darkness to learn to rearrange,
Various aspects of learning to live
As an empath,
And not even knowing about what path
Was that?
My younger self grew up with my grandpa Boss
Until I was five years old.
After that he passed of a massive heart attack
So many years back
In time
Of reason & rhyme
I have been told,
Grandpa Boss was a writer & sculpturer
Of many lost works now.
He taught me to read & write from birth to age 3
When he was alive.
He called me the apple of his eye.
I would read his books of poetry
Of mostly religious beliefs of his mindset at that time
In my life of reason & rhyme
We would sit on the back porch
& we would talk for hours about how to carry the torch
Of art & creativity & beyond
To express feelings of joy, love, God & life
As I was so incredibly young.
I remember his trips to New York City to publish
His poetry of life, God & love.
I would rush
Into the living room to welcome
Grandpa Boss home from his long trip
From so far away across to the east coast &
away from me & Grandma Carrie Soleta.
My two favorite people,
Grandpa Boss taught me love the written word,
To express my feelings and sip
From the creative cup of cornucopia of life
As a writer of sorts &
Of course, my Grandma Carrie Soleta was a teacher,
Of creative words and the history of humanity.
She loved to sit with me on the piano bench,
As I played music of different chords
& style of religious, blues, rock, country
ETC.
My youthful days are reminisced by clouds and sunshine of that reality as a young child from birth until three years old when my grandpa passed. My grandma continued to nurture me in rhythm, reason & rhyme.
I realize that between my grandparents and my parents I am thankful for those human beings in the time of decades of my life.
At three I was young, naïve, carefree.
When my grandpa passed, I saw a huge dark cloud
Over my head as mom explained to me Boss was dead
In the flesh
But alive in the spirit in the clouds
Of heaven.
I remember my grandpa as a creative, kind person.
I was sad for a while as a little child.
But soon the sun would shine above the clouds of grief,
Of sadness and pain.
What was to remain,
Is this prose of mine
In this decade of my life
To remind me of the two
People who gave me joy & creative endeavors
Of reason, rhyme, & music, history
And to grieve through my music and books and art
Of everyday existence of all my decades
Of life as it fades
Into being old.
I used to respect my grandparents,
As they were my elders and so I was told,
They were wise and watching over me as I dream
And walk through my last decades
Writing & artistic creativity
To say to my peeps,

“Thank you, Grandpa Boss and Grandma Carrie Soleta,
For teaching me the ins & outs of my fate
To realize it is not too late
To continue with chapter 74 of my life,
To continue as I will soon be seventy-five.
Thank you my BFFS for always being there.

Little superhero, little me
Your so beautiful beyond what the eyes can see
Your smile, your style
Your warm personality
Your independence even as a small child
Is more than enough to drive your parents wild
I love who you are now
I love who you will be
I love that your who you are
Natural and free with a silly personality
Your amazing talents, your grace
Unaware somewhere you make someone else’s heart smile
Just by showing your pretty face
It may feel lonely at times
It may feel like your misunderstood
But I promise, all the wonderful things that you are
Someone else only wished they had could
Have your same courage and confidence
You’re wise beyond your years
That alone is gift
And as you get older, you’ll feel that little shift
That shift is knowing and embracing just how different you are
While others where born to be like the sun and moon
You were created to be a star
Your ability to love others more or as you love yourself
Being there for others even if all you have is yourself
Your heart is so pure, so be bold
Be the warmth, the light in a room that’s dark and cold
So rejoice in your individuality
Because you are a rare flower
Embrace being different from all the others
Because that is your superpower

Resiliency is rarely said
to be an envied trait;
they’ll cite your wit or charm instead,
both given greater weight.

But, grit survives through each abuse–
finds quiet ways to thrive–
and never lets the trauma noose
bedim your stubborn eyes.

This understated innate feist
will be your truest friend
so hold her close throughout our life–
we’ll need such help again.

Little one

You know what I love

I love a rare soul

You can’t see them

Until one day

Treading water

Just once
Can I see you

Desire
Surprise
Excite
Thrill
Joy
Love
Glory

The AWE

Slipped away

My First
My Only

Shocked
Sadness
Fear
Anger
Guilt
Panic
Emptiness

The Lonely

Head high
Patiently waiting

Clouds of pleasure

Whimsical
Gentle
Bright
Curious
Amazing
Inspires
Cherished

The TREASURE

Until we meet
In Heaven

Together

Little lad, so soon originality
Were now had of remembrance to see
Like that dreadful hot summer-
Drenched in sweat then thinking
Scared to death, running to Dad…
Yelling out loud, “Hey Pop’s-I’m leaking”!
Or jumping down Superhero style-
Straight off the top of the staircase,
Knowing your cape-towel all the while-
Would land you safe on the base!
Such fun mischief you often went through,
A wonder-dare conquering fears…
The natural boy came to you so clear!
Yes that little boy with hazel eyes and smiles too!
The lines stepped over, “one and only” say they-
At such a time past-you were always this way!
No toys to bring for elementary all for-“show and tell”…
So to school in a box-you brought snakes so well!
When came your turn-they slithered out all around the room,
And all the girls surely thought-this was final doom!
They all jumped up, they screamed and they fled…
But us young boys caught them-let them go, and caught them again!
Have I not to go on of-your happy younger self,
But you were so thankful all for everyone else!
You liked all those kids that none would play with,
You felt bad and cared-so you friended all of them!
That is only character, by God instilled for good…
And because of Him-so poor, yet rich you stood.
Yes little Timothy, original you were-
And that has carried on, in sincere imagination sure…
Even unto this day!
Yea, still that little guy inside-
By your kids is forever embraced!
Love ya lad!!!
6-18-24

Theresa, may I see you
As it is this day?
May I take one final breath,
And with you fly away?
Who is there,
What do you see?
Have I questions aware,
That you come back to me…so fair?
Woman, I caught-another’s’ power
And so missed you on your final hour.
Honey, woman, darlin-Dear…
I know the One who answers clear.
May I not let this tear me up-
My knowing your there is comfort enough.
May now I see you? Bet!
I’ll stay in 2nd heaven soon,
On the Moon of my regret…
You’re alive in my heart-And True.
2 lines alive-one for me, and one for you.

Sincerely, Timothy

Dear Pappy,
It has been 10.5 years since you left us for greener pastures and those golden, pearly gates were taught as children. You only knew me for about 6 years of the 15 years you knew your oldest child had adopted three little girls. By the time I knew your name, you had forgotten mine. Oh, how we miss you. We miss your laughs, your candy jar in your milk house, your coffee cups sitting in your truck and how you loved to play with the youngest children. I miss your stories back when you were younger. I miss you scaring us kids with your false teeth and I miss hearing you say “Now, I love you guys but, I don’t want you fighting.” I miss your kisses on my cheek every time I left your house and mostly, I just miss you. I hope you are taking care of your border collies up there and I hope you are proud of your kids, grandkids, great grandkids and the unborn great-great grandkids that are bound to come into our lives at some point. I wish I could have told you goodbye on your last night but, I know you are no longer in pain and you now know all of us, even those you never got to meet.
-Shay

I think about you now and then,
a smile on my face
and hope you’re running free, my friend,
with classic Richie grace

or dancing on a fresh-cut lawn
to upbeat oldie tunes,
not caring if the world looks on–
to judgment, you’re immune.

I’m sure your whoops of simple joy
are heaven’s favorite tolls–
endearing is the singsong voice
that echoes in my soul

so savor your eternal feast
and endless mugs of ale–
especially the sips you thief
from Christ’s own holy grail.

Until we reunite once more,
I’ll use your echoed cues
and not be such a dreadful bore–
it’s happiness I choose.

Dear Unsealed,
Today as I lay across my queen size bed,
As though the universe led
Me supernaturally to this phenomenal sad,
But a joyful photo of me and my dad.
I am a little Vic.
My poppa was a big Vic.
The photo was from long ago,
In my reality of the 1980s highs & lows
Of experiences in Hollywood &
Beyond with my dad, big Vic.
Time goes by so quickly,
Like a bite of an avocado
As I swallow the last bite.
My pop, Victor was my hero.
Vic was always my rock to lean upon.
No matter what I said or did,
In those days of growing up singing my song,
Vic was always there to teach me right from wrong
& to work hard, study hard, smile,
While all the while
You ‘wanna’ cry,
Ask why,
Or just hug the world
As you travel the road I chose.
My poppa Vic
Passed away as he was sick
With leukemia.
I was there by his side
To hold his hand as he died.
I bent over to kiss his forehead,
Telling him thank you for always having my back.
I now look at the photo
Faded from decades of dark & light.
My poppa Vic
With his baby girl, Vicki
As we sat at the celebration dinner party in LA.
I had rented a dress from a costume shop in Hollywood,
Judi Garland’s once upon old black sequin dress.
I wore my late Grandma Carrie Soleta’s beads,
I had cut my hair so black and short with waves,
To help me smile & celebrate the event.
That was so special that night.
I look at the old, faded photo,
I smile as I remember my big Vic,
My hero always there to catch me when fell
Or celebrate me when I stood up,
When he was there to pull me up,
“Sister, everything’s gonna be okay. A hundred years from now you will forget about it.”
“Yeah dad, in a hundred years we will be dead. So, forget about it.”
That was my poppa Vic!
Now I remember those words of inspiration alert
From big Vic.
I loved my poppa Vic,
My hero
I still feel him around
To keep me sound
& so,
This letter is dedicated to my late poppa Vic,
So handsome, so sweet
To everyone he would meet.
I dreamed of my big Vic & my mom, Thelma,
One-night years ago
Before I moved back to LA
2016.
I was living on the south Texas beach
With the Jekyll & Hyde dude.
Poppa Vic knocked on my bungalow door.
I opened it, “Dad, Mom, hello, OMG!
My poppa said, “Come with us sister.”
I stepped out the door
To leave that bungalow door
Adobe behind to never go there, nevermore.
We drove over the mountains, the desert,
To LA.
Then as I stepped out to pray
To thank God to be back in LA
After a long trip
With my poppa my late mom & late poppa Vic.
They disappeared like a puff of smoke
As I awoke
To daybreak.
Three months later I was on the train to LA
Over the deserts & mountains night & day.
I stepped off the train,
Kissed the ground, so glad to be back in LA.
My poppa, big Vic was there in spirit for me
To bring me home, no more to roam.
“I love you my poppa Vic.”