traumatic events bind us together,
I will always be a part of you,  
and you a part of me.

sometimes I wish I had cancer
then people would send me flowers, and get well soon cards.
but I am bipolar
so when I am sick
I suffer alone, ashamed
because too many times
people synonymously use my illness for crazy.

-please stop

When I try to watch the news my sadness sets in ..When I look across
the yard sometimes in the evening the same thing happens .. I've cried myself to sleep several times over the last two weeks .. When I put a plate of food in front of me I start thinking about dead animals ..
I'm still getting the sensation of falling or being electrocuted .. I'm beginning to see objects at the window once again .. When I listen to music sometimes the sadness is unbearable .. Music is all I have so this is quite painful .. I've 'caught myself ' staring into nothing in whatever room I'm in ... Mary Ellen and I have gone out to eat several times over the last few weeks .. She's caught me ' zoned out' ..
She stared into my eyes an brought me back into the moment ..
I'm beginning to feel like no medicine in the world is going to help me ... I had some pain meds from my gall bladder surgery four weeks ago .. I contemplated taking all of them at once just to see if I could stop the 'machine' ..

The ticking clock, like gunshots through my head
aimed at my youthful ignorance...
the scent of you still lingers in our bed.

I ghost through space, not living, not yet dead -
straddle chasms of our best intents-
the ticking clock, like gunshots through my head...

My mind still hears the poetry you read,
replays the laugh of youth's exuberance,
the scent of you still lingers in our bed.

I enter empty house now, filled with dread.
I feel your absence, all it represents-
the ticking clock, like gunshots through my head.

A fog billows in, begins to spread,
as death comes to erode all innocence.
The scent of you still lingers in our bed.

My nose has plundered through each precious thread
for faintest linger of your redolence...
the ticking clock, like gunshots in my head.
The scent of you is fading from our bed...



© Mar 2018, Winnie Carolina

I found you
As a friend
Took you
By the hand
We both
Got ******
Lost you
In the wind
Because
My poor
little head
Went round
The ******* bend

To the ones who were taken!
The ones that left for greener pasture!
For those that eloped…
Insearch of love and comfort.
To the ones whose country was at war!
Had to leave not because of the fun.
To you all who have not seen your relatives in decades!
To you all I hail thy!

Your country may be in disarray
You may had been trafficked
Maybe even by mistake.
Yet a new home you had to find
To you, I hail thee!

To the anchor babies, the ones who got bullied…
for what they are not responsible for.
You are my star!
You shine so bright they find it hard not to pick from you. 'Not on you'.
For the great brains that have to live with little, for lacking a Green Card!
You are bigger than what they thought of you.
Your turn to succeed would come. Please don't give up.

Her mother's daughter
The one that was told of great opportunities.
She left with big dreams! Only to see the cruelty of the world she knows nothing of.
In your is the odyssey. Your strength is unmatched!

For our ansestors that were taken and made slaves.
Called "Colored" because of their beautiful skin
Our dashing Milani beauty!
Oh! Your flawless skin under the ray of the sun or its coolness with every cold breeze.
A Resistor!
My ancestral goddess. You found a home amidst all odds.
To you! I hail thy!
And to you is this day celebrated.
Happy International Migrant day!

Ilsa's hair blew like silk in the soft Parisian breeze.
Rick looked 10 years younger driving his sportster
down Champs-Elysees. Arc de Triomphe was in the
distance. Young, radiant, Ilsa was the most beautiful
woman in the world. Every man who ever saw her
instantly fell in love with her, myself included. The
German army was only a day from entering Paris,
but that didn't stop Rick from proposing to Ilsa in
La Belle Aurore as Sam played AS TIME GOES BY.
That Ilsa didn't meet Rick in the pounding rain at
the train station as they had planned to take it to
Marseille on their way to Casablanca foreshadowed
the protracted, brutal war the Nazis had already
begun one conquest after another across Europe.
But ****** was not prescient enough to realize
"...a kiss is just a kiss...." and in his Berlin bunker
first swallowed a cyanide capsule then put the muzzle
of his revolver into his mouth and pulled the trigger,
his only constructive act since becoming Chancellor
in 1933.

TOD HOWARD HAWKS