Category: From the Soul

by Ernie McCray

I had the honor of hanging out with some kids
at the Youth Peace Camp
at the
San Diego First Church of The Brethren,
and I enjoyed every single second I spent
with those beautiful people,
leaving them at the end of the evening,
with a glowing smile on my face
which I maintained
listening to some soulful
old school rhythm and blues
as I kick-backed

by Ernie McCray

Sometimes when
I need to momentarily free
myself from humanity
and all its insanity,
I’ll listen to my man, Ahmad Jamal,
tickle the ivories
as only he can,
captivated
with the way|
he can finger the keys
in a tinkling fashion

by Ernie McCray

Hey, Bill,
loved “The Luckiest Guy in the World”
30 on 30 documentary.
It reminded me
of when I first saw you play
in high school,
in a game
where you, excuse the cliché,
literally blew me away
as you and your crew
descended on some poor team
like a tornado,
with you
swatting their shots
away in ways
that made them
not want to take shots,

by Ernie McCray

I was
listening to Supersax,
superbly relaxed,
scatting along with the brilliantly constructed tones
they blow through their saxophones,
like I was Lambert Hendricks and Ross
and the Manhattan Transfer
all wrapped up in one,
their songs
ferrying me
deep into a 1940’s
state-of-mind,

by Ernie McCray

I dined
at a rather nice café
the other day
where a host,
in this lovely place,
in a very friendly way,
led me
and my twin daughters
and my oldest grandson
and his wife
and their three sons,
to an outdoor table,

by Ernie McCray

An ex-president
getting a portion
of his due
through an indictment
and now an arraignment
that are about as overdue
as a book checked out of the library
in 1892,
makes me want to dance a jig,
bad back and all.
And the claim
that the charges against him,
amongst other things,
have been
a witch-hunt, from the get-go,
makes me want to chuckle

by Ernie McCray

Pondering
some of what’s going on
in the nation
and the world,
I was in a low-grade funk
and then
I turned my TV on
to two talking heads
on ESPN
who were going on and on
about who was
the G.O.A.T.,
the greatest to ever play
in the NBA,

by Ernie McCray

Amanda Gorman
gifted us with
“The Hill We Climb”
at an
inaugural celebration,
a poem inspiring hope
which hangs on weakly
by a thread
in our nation,
a poem a parent had
removed from a school
because in her narrowed way
of looking at things

by Ernie McCray

Tina Turner.
Gone.
I first saw her on stage
around 1957
or ’58,
and it was love at first sight.
Couldn’t help myself,
if I tried with all my might.
Not with the way
she and the Ikettes
moved and grooved

by Ernie McCray

I was moving
my old bones
to the music of San Diego’s
Hoover High School Mariachi Band
which put me in a deeply responsive mood
for what was next
that afternoon,
a premiere of
“A Chicano Love Story,”
a documentary
featuring Linda and Carlos LeGerrette,
two of Cesar Chavez’s
most valued right-hand
woman and man.

By Ernie McCray

Hey,
LAY THOSE PISTOLS DOWN, Ja!
Enough of
all that jive foolishness,
flashing guns on videos
as though you’re a gangster wannabe
or some kind of an OG.
If it’s attention you want
you’ve already got that,
it seems to me,
because on a basketball court
your fans eat up
your razzle and dazzle
and wizardry and artistry
with unadulterated glee.

by Ernie McCray

Two of my grandchildren,
Lyric and Marley,
Lyric almost ten,
Marley, eight,
slept over
the other night
and things went great.