Tears of Joy

She smiles at him with loving eyes

From her womb he came there is no disguise

She is very content living day by day by faith

She realizes the harsh reality of this world there's no mistake

He looks at her with compassion in his eyes

From her womb he came there is no disguise

Born into a world that easily turns the other way

Given heavy responsibility at such a young age

They look at each other and she begins to cry

From her womb he came there is no disguise

Not tears of sadness or hurt or pain

Knowing this is the day that the Angels reign

Takes his small hand and wipes the tears from her eyes

From her womb he came there is no disguise

For the day will come when he must sacrifice

Redeeming us through her tears of joy…giving us eternal life

Poem By Howard "Sergio" Tucker © 12/12/10

Spoken to the arrangement of Greg Scott's "Little Drummer Boy"

Meant To Be

Howard "Sergio" Tucker

She touches my arm in a soft yet excited way;

She withdrawals her doubts and beams genuine smiles at everything I say;

Her perfume, a natural sweetness especially when she plays;

She becomes part of me; fighting those feelings, now stop and pray;

His gifts are glorious as she sings of an exotic land found south and far away;

Of hope, love and faith…that is our shared day.

She is an Angel on magnificent wings, the brightness of wisdom in her eyes;

Her breath kisses life into my soul…takes my spirit beyond the skies.

The softness of her lips I do want to play;

Her tongue darting to taste my wine in such a seductive way;

Finding curiosity in her intelligence that confounds the harsh world of today;

In her arms to find warmth and comfort, she so affectionately displays.

She moves in carefree sensuality…limitless compassion with such ease;

She presses her lips at the right moments just to tease.

She is…I am…who we are…meant to be…friends.

(c) 9/25/2010

Later That Evening

By Howard "Sergio" Tucker

Moon, full, blue & white beams glide across the soft scattered Egyptian linen, play a joyful hide and seek with the night.

Her breath in rhythm with my heart…her skin glistening with sweet, salty nectar;

Incense drifts through the room, its smoke snakes toward the open window, careless, exotic, enticing, giddy, delirious…

Flickering candles, wink as the gentle salt summer breeze kisses them, illuminating the half eaten mango, dark chocolate…red chili, spicy, sweet and sensuous…

Hear the beat of the drums calling, pounding, pulsing, and primal

Feel the heat of the samba, eternally desired yet urgently final.

Move in rhythm…eyes closed, senses heightened with the touch of supple seduction

Intoxicating delight of tender cinnamon mocha skin brushing against the soul…

Sway from side to side like elegant palms in the trade winds…small of the back arched, reaching, wanting, anticipating and breathlessly whispering against the neck, not knowing if promises of ecstasy reach the ear.

Hear the beat of the drums calling, pounding, pulsing, and primal

Feel the heat of the samba, eternally desired yet urgently final.

© 4/20/2009

ENOUGH

By Howard "Sergio" Tucker

Listening to what's wrong for the 100^th time.

Been walked on, walked by and strategically ignored.

Not lying down and won't take it anymore….whose back is turned and walk away.

Superior do you say?

Tired of the unending drama, conflict, confusion and lies,

Move on…do the right thing; stop making excuses…just try.

Gave plenty, didn't say a word.

Dutiful and respectful…failed to listen; now that's absurd!

Pushed the easy button with a toxic tongue,

Back up and don't come calling…'cause no one is there, the bell has rung.

Not there to hear the same old negative vibes, arm chair analysis from 100 stories high,

Never walked a day in someone else's shoes…still trying to rationalize,

Vaguely understanding the pressure…oblivious to the real issues,

Yes, fighting false assumptions.

Now mark thy words. Think carefully. Come correct,

Understand the discontent…with conflicting versions of the status quo.

Enough!

Change is coming.

FAITH.

JUSTICE.

PEACE....

©8/12/2010

Lose My Muse

By Howard "Sergio" Tucker

If I lost my breath: I could…inhale the brilliance of the sun;

If I lost my mind: I could…find peace in the eternal emptiness;

If I lost my love: I could…seek solace in frivolous infatuation;

If I lost my faith: I could…ask the Angels to protect my soul;

If I lost my way: I could…wander the earth in wondrous adventures;

If I lost you: I could…lose my Muse.

If I lost my breath: I could…resuscitate my heart with your longing kiss;

If I lost my mind: I could…stimulate my thoughts with your tender touch;

If I lost my love: I could…restore my passion with your warm whisper;

If I lost my faith: I could…resurrect my spirit with your fervent prayers;

If I lost my way: I could…discern my path with your heartfelt words;

If I lost you: I could…lose my Muse.

For I Believe in He

By Howard "Sergio" Tucker

Close the window.

Lock the door.

Keep me safe from "them"

Those what?

Struck by color

Ancestors say…white man knows best?

Keeps me safe from "them"

However you my nigga…

Are better than that…see this is not about you.

Oh really? Cause, I speak the accepted King's English,

My pedigree is better than most,

My upside and profile is high end,

My potential…blue chip…

Oh, I don't live in fear of my people, never have

Call it living on faith,

Borrowed time, a charmed life,

I have walked these streets,

Worked these streets,

Cried and played on these streets of my city.

I fear not,

Though I walk through the shadow of the valley of death many times…I fear no evil,

Not going to start now,

For on that day…judgment reigns from above…not from my hands nor from my heart…

Blackness and brownness of my skin,

The comfort and strength from within,

Though my words may not be accepted…I choose to live between worlds many times,

I represent my people, for good or for ill…neither in denial nor hollering with self hate.

I will not bow down to the media led forces of the division of the races among and between

I will not bow down to fear and loathing of the wrongs of my own, I am here to uplift, motivate and dream

Yes, all men are created equal …our myth…so the story goes many chapters yet to be seen.

May I say, to my Sistas mistake me not for those who have harmed you…

I am not he!

May I say, please heap not upon my head the persecutions and insecurities of those who preceded me

I am not he!

May I shout to the hills and to our Lord above to hear our call for unity!

For I am he!

That walks, works, blends and mingles from street to board room

For I am he!

That sees past the media lies and spin doctor deceits and taking each person and story as their own

For I am he!

Our souls, our nation, our people can be saved given a chance…an opportunity, to be free.

For I believe in He.

© 5/21/2010

The Band

By Howard "Sergio" Tucker

Waiting for the band to play wondering if I will hear from her

Imagining her soft lips hot against my neck

Biting and nipping at my consciousness

Sub consciously whispering such deviously, sweet, tender and wet things

Next to me yet distant at the same time

The band warms up…playing their thunderous rhythms congas and drums to stimulate our primal selves…

Young things with little between…swaying with a hint perfume and seduction just within reach

Hair pulled back sweating so slightly from the 90 degree night

Can't help seeing you in my mind…a sexy smile, brown hair silky & brushed to the side

Band is up tempo and rocking now…making the women jump and holler…men pump fists into the air

Remembering your thighs wrap around my waist…pulling and tugging at lost insecurities

Squeezing and undulating to our private sounds…as the band's music continues to cascade across the crowd

Our music of passion…our sweat mingled in the heat of the night

Covered with love in the mist…swearing with eyes closed…hearing the crescendo… like the top of rollercoaster seeing the distance to fall, sensing the weightlessness with fear and electrifying excitement!

Reckless love calling as the band is in full throttle pulsing…while guiding your hips into mine

Making me powerful, dependant, alive … never to end…never to yield…or apologize for making our music…understanding the underlying currents seeking the taste…the touch

To give it all away for you…to go silent

'Cause you understand my notes and my rhythms even before I even say,

Yes…

© 7/7/2010

Continue…

By Howard "Sergio" Tucker

I am…we are…not quite what it seems to be

To live…to love…to pray…to struggle…to make believe

So easy to fit in that comfortable place, so emotionally open, so playfully sensuous, so rousingly wet and delightfully indecent

Got to let go that sexy sweet smoky attraction…my power addiction to fulfill her every need

Got to let go, as much as it pains me…not to feel her caress my mind a thousand miles away

Got to let go so the ideal comes from what God asked me to be

I know there is…compatibility

Willing to accept our baggage claims from across the isle

Understands by an honest word sans righteous judgment, irrational thought or erratic deed…

Past the drama, past the unspoken expectations, past the uncertain reality

Finding the balance

Finding the peace

Finding the strength

Continue the searches…continue the wait…continue to pray…continue to get myself straight…

I continue to prepare for that day.

© 5/25/10

On to Zion! On to Zion!

By Howard "Sergio" Tucker

My name is Joseph, dreamer of dreams, man of many colors, sold into exile by my envious brothers, falsely accused by one scorned, imprisoned and forsaken yet my Lord finds favor in me…and I prosper.

I see the City of Zion glorious and blazing in the mid day sun…many are called, few are chosen…to enter her wondrous gates. Zion, the refuge, from mock trials and trivial persecutions, from the wilderness of ridicule and the desert of doubt, from the abyss of the single minded and myopic, from the chaos of those who relish discord, from the whimpering of those who are weak and from those that wield the staff of manipulation, mediocrity and deceit…

My name is Joseph, my father mourns thinking I am dead, through lies yet the Lord protects me…and I prosper. I see the gates of Zion far off in the distance…my feet ache to tread on her blessed soil yet my progeny shall find sanctuary behind her walls, the weeping and wailing shall give way to rejoicing and praise…

My name is Joseph, long suffering are my children, miss-guided chasing shadows and glorifying shame…oh the Earth reeks of the waste from their wealth squandered…Zion, no need for money…Zion, no need for clothes….naked, pure, without shame or lust, thus in Zion all are equal in spirit, yes in Zion there are no casts, no tribes, no miscreants…my father shouts with joy knowing that I am safe…the Lord continues to look favorably upon me…and I prosper!

My name is Joseph, dreamer of dreams, man of many colors, teller of truths; hold fast to thy honor and integrity…these; my children are the keys to the gates...behold the sun and she is magnificent!

Post Script:

Stand by my side Sweet Mystery…there is faith, joy, love and much laughter for thee…in Zion.

Thus ends the Musings of Sergio Diablo.

I Wait

By Howard "Sergio" Tucker

To have her hand in mine

To see God's blessings in her eyes

To feel her excitement as we play

To hear her say my name

To hold her gently into the new day

I wait

To laugh at her silly self

To take her dreams seriously

To protect her from my childish ways

To hold her steady through the winds of uncertainty

To make plans beyond today

I wait

To have her feel like it's the first time

To be the man that walks by her side

To hold her closely in my sexy way

To shout the Joy that He sends from above

To indulge in her fragrance of love…I must say

I wait

© 3/22/2010

Water or Gasoline

By Howard "Sergio" Tucker

Woman you are driving me crazy…

Said no one could get that close, you have me turned on, turned out, turned in, turned around turned and bound by…

I put up that façade carefree not interested, yet words, your words woman captivate me,

Hold me in suspense for the next one to come from your lips, those lips, yes to kiss, to hold, to meditate on my existence…

Got to either put out the fire or let the flames burn to the sky!

Ah you take me places I've reserved for only myself in those deep underground emotions a man cannot disclose, closed off, pushed off, cast off, pissed off yet …

You have me thinking of the possibilities, the realities, the certainties of uncontrolled, unbridled, uninhibited yes,

For I see myself in you as deep as the universe, mysterious, obvious, so vast yet close all at the same time…

Got to either put out the fire or let the flames burn to the sky!

Knowing what I bring is more than you see…quickening the pace, for you feel it just as much as me,

Come on woman nothing wrong with making love to the sun, the sea, the rain, the breeze with sensual expression far from sublime…

Not accepting second best, nor waiting for the signal, nor the sign, this time either it's nothing or you will be mine!

Got to either put out the fire or let the flames burn to the sky!

I watched the sunrise…and thought of you.

Crystal clear…dark, cold blue, indigo, yielding to a faint pale orange glow from the East;



City skyline twinkling in the distance, tall, proud, glass, the stately steel edifices of the captains of industry, lay dormant.



A bird chirping shrilly as the town crier of day break, urgently calling all to attention…yet who hears his call?



Sensuous warm glow flows upward caressing the dark indigo into a pale powder blue as it blushes the sky;



Ah the anticipation grows ever so.



The horizon is now on fire …smoldering tree tops with orange-yellow beams bursting through the black leafless branches;



A lone white vapor trail of a plane, a dot in a cloudless heaven, placed delicately in the last fleeting remnants of the indigo as if it were a tear drop signifying night's farewell;



Magnificent curvaceous orb of cherry-orange radiance bursts through the unflinching tree branches!



What Moses saw in that burning bush, here in front of me, what glory!

A new day…is coming.

A new day…is coming.

With awestruck wonder I gaze at thee and marvel what power created you…so perfect.



By Howard "SERGIO" Tucker 

Loving Out Loud!

By Howard "Sergio" Tucker

Sharing, whispering side by side, our minds effortlessly combined

Elegant, intelligent sophisticated, I am delightfully denied

Wet velvet dreams, lovingly licking ice cream dripping from her side

Provocative, my lingering lips on her neck, thoughtfully contrived

Energizing emotions, playful positions, we unconditionally tried

Responsive motions, she sighs, passionately taken for a ride

Our laughter, joyfully exclaiming "Oh my god!" …can hear us outside

Sprit, mind and universe all becoming sensually intertwined

Breathless, blissfully exhausted…we almost died LOL!

Gentle Sunrise

"Acting like a man in love again, he became a man in love again."

By Howard "Sergio" Tucker

Sunrise…holding her gently

Warm and comfortable against the crisp fresh morning air

Draped in white linens, white blankets and pillows

Heaven during the night

Subtly reflects the pink and fire orange of the sky

Pressing gentle kisses from her shoulders down to the small of her back

Lingering tenderly there…

Will There Be a Toll…

By Howard "Sergio" Tucker

Cold, damp drizzle pelting against the windshield, the hum of the car engine…purring, eyes not focused on the road rather squinting at faint images, recollections of days past. Rhythmic cadence of the wiper blades sways back and forth; back and forth, trance state, Zen state? No, no peace, no tranquility…only questions.

When will the storm pass? How far do I go? If I turn off here, will there be a toll…

Car cabin, warm cocoon, provides little insulation from bouts of reoccurring pangs of doubt…drifting from road to memory…foregone days sunny and sweet…simple dalliances, lighthearted and fair, running without a care… hand grips wheel, suddenly turns, no object in the path…only memory of the danger of being caught in the act…

When will the storm pass? How far do I go? If I turn off here, will there be a toll…

Sweat forms on brow like heavy dew, gripping tighter at the wheel as if one knew, the outcome of an old movie, dark forms lurking, long shadows creeping up the wall, lights flashing, blinding, then there is nothing at all…driving with no map there is always a cost, living today through the past, one is surely lost.

When will the storm pass? How far do I go? If I turn off here, will there be a toll…

Betrayed by those who profess to love…vicious indeed…the road sharply curves at odd angles, there is too much speed…No signs, no warnings, the cliffs loom dangerously close, the headlights dim through the fog, can see nothing at most…the way uncertain, lonely and forgotten, the trees passing forlorn and down-trodden…the road continues to narrow, hope begins to fade…yet light in the distance is dimly made.

No More (The Chronicles of Kamael)

By Howard "Sergio" Tucker

Have I always been an angel?

Fallen, been twisted every which way,

Made promises by silky soft voices for fleeting everlasting joy,

Smoke and mirrors, nothing real or firm,

Thought to have found peace and tranquility in solitude…

No More

Restless now

Not content with the status quo

The emptiness of material gain for what

Building frustration like howling at the wind

Shouting to the deaf "the kingdom is at hand!"

No More

Courage and conviction courses through my veins

Unleash your servant to make ready the way

Now become the herald, the harbinger, the hibernation is over

Time to take up thy armor, thy shield and thy grace

What about thy sword to wield in furious righteousness?

No More

No warning alarms will be sounded

No overt threats made

No coercion to the faith

No cause or consequence relayed

By subtle sound and movement…like a herd of antelope reacting to a snapped twig, the excitable and frightened shall run in full force toward the abyss, yet those who hold their ground, standing firm in faith, swayed not by the hysteria of masses, will see that it is you Lord coming with gentle footsteps and outstretched hands, with grains of grace to feed us as we journey home.

Sweet Mystery

By Howard "Sergio" Tucker

Sitting in a sidewalk café, warm, sun drenched an urban escapist's paradise. Mediterranean fare, fragrance of olives, garlic, and charred meat in the air… china and glass on table tops with white cloths, a puff of wind blowing ever so slightly lifting them, ruffling them, like the skirt hems of the women who pass by…each puff exposing some…

Hear the clitter, clatter of china against the cold steel forks as patrons stab at delectable morsels, hear the garbled restaurant noise gabbing, laughing, talking in earnest, lying, joking, pleading, swearing, mumbling with mouth full…all a symphony of color, sound, aroma and taste…

Wine, deep burgundy, rich bold body, yet delicate and complex much like Mystery flashing a smile, a glance, a nod, and a pout…indeed. Swirl the wine in my mouth, lingering on tongue, craftsmanship, nature and age…mingling…exciting expectation rolling down warmly into my chest.

Green is everywhere…bold and sublime…from the salad to the park next to the café…cool and inviting from an afternoon tanning. Poor fools in cars, blaring radios, stuck in traffic look over wanting to taste Mystery and I raise a glass to their futility…what would the world be if we all just stopped…to savor Mystery.

Mystery, what do you see with devilish, girlish, temptress intentions…

Mystery, where do you go...your beckoning glance, massaging touch on the back of my neck as you pull in tighter to brush your lips against my ear…

Mystery…I entice and excite you, feel my strength, makes you quiver, my well place hand on curve of your delicious derriere, you pause to catch your breath…you back away, not trying to get caught just yet…

I am in no rush, yes I like to savor, the little things, the touch and flavor, cause in the end there will be the tasting of suckling honey with ecstasy and like all things that are meant to be; why rush? Sweet Mystery…

The River

By Howard "Sergio" Tucker

We sat by the river and wept…
Our sweat flowed as we thought of our brothers,

Lost in despair for they wander the streets.

We sat by the river and wept…
Our tears flowed as we thought of our sisters,

Lost in fear for they are alone seeking love in unforgiving arms.

We sat by the river and wept…
Our blood flowed as we thought of our mothers,

Lost in mystery for they are vanished and their children crying.

We sat by the river and wept…
Our anger flowed as we thought of our fathers,

Lost in injustice for they are imprisoned to feed the greed of the industry.

We sat by the river and wept…

A mighty wind began to blow.

His breath roused the waters causing a great disturbance crashing fierce waves against the shore;

We were unafraid knowing He had come to cleanse the world of wrongs and unmask the truths;

We stood and welcomed the terrible storm on the wings of a million Angles with joy in the redemption!

We embraced each other as our brothers gained wisdom;

We cheered as our sisters gained respect;

We celebrated as our mothers came home;

We worshiped His name as our fathers were freed;

We sit by the river and weep no more…for this is the age of Zion!

Art House (2)

By Howard "Sergio" Tucker

A festive night, with a cold late November hawk blowing as herald of the holidays….the gallery is warm,

Colors beam the joyful, spiritual, playful Caribbean,

Bright sun drenched yellows, earthy hearty molasses browns, orange sunset fire reds, rainforest lush tropic greens, ocean tranquil turquoise blues…

Culturally uplifting and stimulating visual mix of styles and moods, Haitian, Latin and African,

Tonight's theme, music, fills the room with visual cords of color, complex and bright, jumps off the canvass right into your soul.

Marvel the time and talent; this is sensory jazz, elongated faces like improvised notes held in space so smooth with blue, deep and mellow,

Imagine islanders dancing in cane fields, to heavy rhythms of the congas like puppets, arms and legs bent at awkward angles, yet free and light, no gravity to interfere with their grace and form,

Faces serious, each dancer, their world, each dance, a meaning, from joy, to sorrow intermingling, combining, catching your eye reaching past your reason pulling at the strings of emotions

Yes we play an urban symphony as we sip wine, gently brushing by each other in that oh so polite social single dance to get noticed and seen, adding another layer, that underlying beat, that quickening pulse, that song you can't get out of your head, that personal soundtrack playing…

As I take in the bountiful hues, our women, winking, wandering ….admiring …masterpieces in their own right,

Intelligent and appreciative bright brown eyes, hair, stylishly long, short or braided, all part of the human medium, mingling, mixing and manipulating my senses,

I am among the strong stately brothers…cloaked in dark, mysterious, majestic black of art house chic, sporting a splash, vibrant color.

The resurgence, the Renaissance of the Philly art house…my canvass, our people… the places, the sights, the sounds, the music, the perfume, the cologne, the dresses, the suits, the furs…my tapestry.

How Do You Say?

By Howard "Sergio" Tucker

I like you.

You and I would be perfect.

We could make precious children with deep brown sparkling eyes.

I want to wake up beside you with your warmth, your glow, your scent, your softness with tender playfulness.

Yes girl, I would give all that I am and all that I am meant to be.

I want to hear you moan with a short breath of delicious ecstasy.

Come to church, pray with me, be blessed, his face forever shines on us.

Sit by my side, read contently, wanting nothing more than the stillness of silence.

You inspire me to write, to work, to perform, to take it all to the next level, not for fame or fortune, for your smile, your glance and your delicate presence with unconditional reassurance that you are by my side.

Your words float effortlessly from your lips to my ear and fill my spirit with joy.

Yes, yes, this is meant to be.

Say your name girl…

What…is…your…name.