Author: Ernie McCray

by Ernie McCray

I find myself looking

for any hint

of hope for a better world

that might be in play

and I happened upon a wonderful example

of such the other day

as I listened to a proud Latina woman

at a community college conference

in Austin, Texas

by Ernie McCray

I don’t see how anybody

who took time

to really watch

Kendrick Lamar do his thing

between halves

at the Super Bowl Game,

could call his performance

boring and trashy

as it was very entertaining

to me,

by Ernie McCray

As I still reflect on the positive and hopeful vibe
that I basked in
at a Dr. Martin Luther King Day
celebration,
I find myself
thinking about
the night before the event
when I went to bed
feeling a little trepidation
because of the upcoming inauguration
of a man who stands against
any and every idea that ever played
in MLK’s warmhearted imagination,

by Ernie McCray

I’ll always remember this year’s
“All People’s Celebration”
of MLK Day,
in particular,
not only because it was held on the day
of the 47th president’s
inauguration,
something I looked at as an insult
to the memory of Martin
who preached love and non-violence
but also due to it setting the tone
for the work that needs to be done
to counter the actions of this man
who is hell-bent,

by Ernie McCray

My heart continues
to bleed miserably
for the incredibly hapless residents
of Los Angeles
and I, particularly,
can’t imagine
how hard it must be
for the LA football teams,
the Chargers
and the Rams,
that had to board planes
to make it to NFL Playoff Games
while their beautiful city was aflame
due to a firestorm of a magnitude|
that’s almost impossible
for one to make sense of in his brain,

by Ernie McCray

The raging fire
in Pacific Palisades
darkens my soul
as it’s part of me,
the home of Nancy
my very dearly departed soulmate,
the mother of three of my six children.

I know that she,
if alive,
would be destroyed inside,
viewing an inferno, miles wide,
leaving her old neighborhood
burning away
in its wake.

by Ernie McCray

In a reflective mood the other day
I thought of people
who, in some way,
had something to do
with who I am today
and the first person who popped
up in my mind
was my very first school principal
standing tall in an image
that’s so memorable to me:
Big old head.
Big old shoulders.
Big old chest.
Big old beer belly.

by Ernie McCray

2024
was a year
unlike any I’ve ever undergone before,
one in which I feel as though I barely survived.

The year did, however, provide me
with a few lovely upsides
such as some really good times
with family and friends,
moments where I cheerfully
rooted for our country’s Olympians
and watched a masterful basketball player whose
artistic wizardry in the gym
made millions of people
women’s roundball fans,

by Ernie McCray

I called for a Lyft ride
for a trip to see a doctor
who had performed cataract surgery
on my eyes,
a bit shaky
because I was dealing with a degree
of brightness
unlike I had ever seen,
like I was staring at the sun.

And when my ride arrived
I got the feeling everything was going to be all right
because, as I fiddled around
with my aging hands
trying to strap myself in,
I found myself, simultaneously,
singing along
with the Spinners
on my driver’s radio,

By Ernie McCray

Excuse my French,
as they say,
but it just seems as though
everything today
is ass-backwards.
In so many ways.
And that puts us in a bind,
considering that we’ve got a man
who, in a very short time,
will be taking us through whatever
is going to go down
down the line,

by Ernie McCray

I always thought
I was hip to what’s going on
but I sure
got this past election wrong.

I mean I spent a day
just a week before election day
sitting in a chair,
on a patio
at the Crystal Pier
breathing in
the Pacific Ocean’s
breezy air,
a strawberry margarita
and a bag of sour cream and onion potato chips in my reach,
as my eyes followed the activities
playing out on the beach,
frisbees flying
waves being ridden,
lovers strolling hand-in-hand
in the sand.

by Ernie McCray / November 26, 2024
 
The other night,
after I had laid my head down to sleep,
I transitioned into that stage
where one loses consciousness
before their dreams kick in
and then
a sign above a lab door appears
that reads
“Mad Scientist at Work”
and I cautiously tip-toe through the portal,
to music with an eerie unsteady beat,
and before me
a Frankenstein-looking-dude
puts the final touches on
a spine-chilling orange-faced man