Showing results by author "VinNY Green" in All Categories

The phone rang; young Morgan recognized the phone number as belonging to Dinsdale, the school bully with whom she had several run-ins since returning to school after the pandemic caused extensive shutdowns in her neighborhood. These encounters had all been verbal, as Morgan was not one to get into physical disputes with anyone. She had gotten so weary of Dinsdale’s bully ways. She had no idea why he was calling. She only thought that it could not be anything good. She decided that when she picked it up, she was going to finally give him a piece of her mind and send him on his way.

Lulu was born in Dar es Salaam, Tanzania. Even as a toddler, she knew what she would grow up to be. When asked what that would be, Lulu always leaped into the air and announced with a great big cheer: “I want to grow up to be a superhero, the first girl in the Republic of Tanzania to be a protector of the people. How cool is that going to be?” In English, the name Lulu means pearl. Because of that, Lulu’s family and friends always called her the Pearl of Dar, the queen superhero-to-be.

Nimeona Panya leo; hayuko kwenye kukodisha na uwepo wake unasumbua amani ya nyumba yangu. Sio nyumbani kwangu, haitatokea. Mimi ni Mfalme wa ngome hii, panya nyumbani kwangu ni shida sana. Kunyanyasa na haraka, lakini sio darasani kidogo, sitaacha hadi apate mahali pengine pa kukaa. Nina mpango, mimi ndiye mwanamume katika nyumba hii, bora kuliko panya anayepiga. Nitamfanya apakie jibini lake na kunyakua valise yake. Nitamtuma kutoka nyumbani kwangu kutafuta mahali pengine pa kuzurura. Aliushika mkia wake na kuonesha uoga mdogo wa kunaswa kwenye mpango alioupanga mwanaume.

I awaken most days wondering if I have it in me to make a positive difference in someone’s life. It isn’t something I need to plan for, it is a path I must step upon and be prepared to walk in faith without deviation or separation. It's all about having the spirit willing to share.

The author takes us through his humorous childhood experience of having to eat split pea soup for lunch during school recess as a little boy. A soup that he dislikes to this day.

Summers in the Bayview housing development were a remarkable time to be a kid. Hell, it was a fantastic time to be most anyone. I didn’t realize it then, but there was just nothing better. Tuesday mornings were dubbed as Fishing Tuesday for Stan and me. We would be up at five a.m., fishing poles in hand, a gardening trowel to dig for worms, a bologna sandwich, maybe two, and we were armed with trash talk about who would out-fish whom.

When I woke up, I panicked because it was the first day of school. Yep, this is the day that I start the fifth grade. “Carson!” my mom yelled. I immediately ran downstairs. Mom had made me a big breakfast. “My favorite!” I said. “Yep,” she replied. “A stack of pancakes, bacon, eggs, sausage, and a tall glass of chocolate milk.” I hugged her with the biggest hug I could come up with because she’s never able to make my favorite breakfast these days.

This life-saving publication has been made possible through the life-long commitment of “Grand Master Florendo Visitacion”, and the remarkable teaching and training skills of Professor David James, and Assistant Commissioner and Chief Firearms Instructor Alberta Ancrum Osu!

"Is it your plan to lay in the bed until the goddamn rapture? I mean, c’mon, so you took a hit, life goes on. Let's not forget, through it all, you are still Nikki Evelyn Armstrong. A decorated veteran honored by two counties. The recipient of multiple citations and awards for enforcement of the law, with dignity, honor, and integrity. You are a walking, breathing, recognized American hero. So, my dear sister, why don’t you act like it?”

White-cracker, towel-head, red-man, greaser - if you know any of these words, their genesis, and shameless offspring, then it is time to strike them from your life. Erase them from your mind, delete them from the vocabulary of people kind. Do you honestly think that your opinion of me, in truth, determines my place in this society? At the end of the day, it is not about race, gender, or the different people that may come to mind, working to pass judgment on me, and the rest of people kind.

Arielle awoke on this day, with a great big smile on her beaming beautiful face. This particular day has only happened three times before. I bet you cannot guess why....Well, today is Arielle’s fourth birthday! How cool is that? Please join us, as we listen to the story of celebrating this awesome day.

The 10,000-year conflict between the Wiley clan and the Balfore tribe had ceased hostility for a little over 100 years. There was still no love between the two, but all of the other clans were happy that what seemed like a never-ending dispute was over. The sounding of a truce brought a sense of peace to Brisbane 5 and the rest of the known galaxies. It was understood throughout the neighboring solar systems that hostilities could erupt again if a sneeze were misunderstood, or a toe stepped on inadvertently.

There was little mischief a kid could get into within the borders of the Bayview Projects and get away with it. The entire community was one family. I must admit, being a “busy kid”, that was not always to my delight. Black, White, cops, storeowners; all worked in unison to keep the community speaking in one voice and with one purpose, which was taking care of one another. I am not sure what makes a community come together in that way, but the inhabitants of Bayview made it happen; whatever the recipe, whatever the balance, the coming together of Bayview was almost near perfection.

I have lived a life strapped in the armor of hope and breastplate of faith. As I have stated in earlier writings, “there is little of my life I expected it to be”. Yet, I would not reposition one grain of sand, one raindrop, or hide from one gust of wind. For with that deflecting, I would not be who I am. Good or bad, I do not know. I do know that I am me, and the road before me is engineered for my steps and none other.

This is a continuing effort by author and poet, Vinny Green to share his blessing from above to share his inspired words and thoughts. He continues to share the inspired words that come to mind in the hope of touching hearts and inspiring minds.

It is likely that many of you who have blessed me by making the kind decision to read or listen to these short stories that make up The Bayview Chronicles are not familiar with the Little Rascals or Our Gang, and to me that is sad. The Little Rascals and Our Gang comedy short films had a significant influence on my young life.

My Mind to Your Mind is the third volume in a series of poetic works and short stories of which the author, Vinny Green, hopes will be viewed as a thought-provoking sharing. Each volume has been an effort on sharing ideas, expressions, and feelings from his heart, mind, and soul. Vinny very much believes these volumes to be the contributing work of the Lord, as he has never seen himself as a poet or writer and, without a doubt, never capable of expressing his feelings as they relate to the subject of love and heartfelt caring.

Not very long after the formation of the earth and the seeding of the planet with the Being known as man, thousands of animals were formed by the Great “I Am”, with a direction to roam specific parts of this majestic land. In those days, each animal could converse with man. They would often discuss the best ways to support the land and work together to make each habitat better than when they were first formed.

Today is the first day of the rest of young Arayah’s life. Ari is eager to make sure that she does all that she can to get it right. What this means is taking the time to think about something as simple as what she can do to make sure all the things that exist from sea to sea will be blessed with proper names. For today what that means to Ari is making sure that she comes up with the proper name for the majestic tree. Come along with Ari as she takes on the task of giving this perennial plant a name that will be sung throughout the land.

Nikki began to shed a tear as her finely manicured, slender fingers stroked the oversized wooden casket sprinkled with knotholes, splinters, and other imperfections that housed the small body of Kamari Prescott. A young boy who seemed to love life despite its harsh realities. Kamari had been befriended by abuse far too often in his battered young life and visited by death much too early than what Nikki believed the good Lord intended. As she stood wondering if there was more she could have done or should have done, she began to ponder the injustice of it all.