AS THE YELLOW TAPE DECORATED MY TOWN HOME
PEOPLE FROM ALL OVER WATCHED IN SILENCE
I FROZE MY HEART POUNDING LIKE THUNDER WHY
IT'S THE END OF THE WORLD FOR THIS MAN WHO
LIE BLEEDING AT MY FEET I HERE HIM WHISPER
FOR MERCY HE HELD OUT HIS HANDS WITH BLOOD
IN THE CORNER OF HIS MOUTH I FEEL LIKE MOTHER
THERESA AND JOAN LUNDON AT THE SAME TIME
MY MIND QUICKLY MOVES BACK TO COMPASSION
AND LIFE FOR HIS SOUL LORD I PRAYED WITH THIS
DYING MAN AS I WEEP SO TRAUMATIZED BY VIOLENCE
YET AGAIN THE MAN COVERED WITH HOLES
OF BLOOD HE REACHED FOR ME I COULDN'T STOP
HIS PAIN WHY WHY AND WHAT DOES HE WANT
WITH ME HE'S DEAD ALMOST HIS LEGS IS TREMBLING
HIS BREATH SHALLOW I TELL HIM I'LL GET HELP
I WAS AFRAID FOR HIM TO TOUCH ME AS I REACHED
OUT MY HAND THIS DYING MAN SAID NO PLEASE
STOP YOUR CRYING IT'S KILLING ME
WRITTEN BY MRS. YOLANDA NICHOLSEN 5-14-2004
2610 PROVIDENCE STREET FORT MYERS FLORIDA
AFTER WITNESSING THE KILLING OF MY ASSASIN
1211 ST ROYAL PLACE ST JAMES PLACE TAMPA
8-14-2003 MY KILLER GUNNED DOWN PURRED
AT MY FEET HE WAS KILLED FOR ARRIVING TO KILL ME
GOD BLESS AMERICA
They say her hair remembers sunlight,
even when the rooms are windowless,
even when the questions stack like files
no one wants to open.
From Tampa’s salt-stung air she rose,
a practiced smile, a courtroom voice,
a lacquered certainty that learned
how to live inside microphones.
Power is a mirror with bad lighting—
it shows you only what it needs.
Behind her, paper storms keep forming,
names half-redacted, dates that bleed.
She walks through corridors of flags,
through praise that claps like shuttered doors,
while somewhere, whispers learn to swim
in darker, colder drawers.
Is it guilt? Or just the gravity
of standing near the grinding wheel?
Even clean hands smell like iron
when history decides to feel.
The cameras love her confidence,
the way it doesn’t flinch or break—
but truth is a slow, patient thing
that never hurries for our sake.
So she stands—bleached, branded, framed—
between the oath and what it hides,
a silhouette of certainty
with doubt stitched softly in the sides.
And Tampa’s sun keeps shining anyway,
as suns have always done before:
indifferent to who holds the keys,
or what is buried in the floor.
she walks in smiling
like a billboard,
all blonde shine
and polished teeth.
the laws bend for money,
she knows it—
she’s danced long enough
with men in suits
to sell the dance twice.
you ask about morals,
hell, she keeps them
in a purse—
zippered tight,
pulled out only for the camera.
the rest of the time
she is like the others—
slick, practiced,
and waiting for her next check.
Malice greed abuse of power allow my stalker jay townsend johnson henry organized criminal group exposed personal private information of thousands of patients and their families I receive terrorists threats from this harsh criminal group simply because jay Townsend Johnson Henry was impersonating my identity obsessed with my poetry i RECIEVED victims compensation from Charlie Crist office sadly its been decades an she's even more deadly I'm very blessed my Healthcare team can never be corrupted by criminal groups identity fraud God bless our attorney General office god bless America
Jahore Pakistani kind of terrorist driving a Tahoe shooting into my home attempting to impersonate me gain royalties from my American poetry sorry my ancestors served Wwll Vietnam Korean Afghanistan Iraq for these reasons I will never ever fear scum like you carrying a rubber badge you obtained from Gargano strip club on fletcher ave.in Tampa bay don’t forget who you are you are actually times 30 Gargano ran a garbage disposal strip club of females just like you only you become obsessed with my identity freak of nature back off sorry you got caught in bed with my abusive ex husband this gave you false hope that you could audition to become me after death Ha ha ha ha truly funny twisted and sick ha ha ha ha stop breaking in my home for underwear that won’t make you me dear ha ha ha ha you are very twisted ewwww thank you god for exposing this imposter jay Townsend Johnson Henry Tampainian clone.
I am American
underway again
deep sea fishing with my dad
together again
Dad fishing the bay
me and Bonnie running wild
while Mom's being Mom
Fell asleep with a broken guitar
and a bowl of cheese.
played basketball with a deflated ball.
remorse is forbidden,live in the
amusement of the puzzle.
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