i'm sitting in a corner,
blue as a flower,
saying a prayer.

that room

I ve written
about that room, above the bar, often.
that there were shadows,
no windows,
but I really don't remember?
window, no window?

but whenever i tried to look up
there was the angry sky
chasing hope around narrow streets          

and those bits and ripples
of rain long asleep

casting shadows across
windows distant,
down my window pane.

do you ever think of me?

(written while sitting in a dark room
starring into a rain splashed window).

I missed that call.
And I knew
It was for the better.
You weren’t up
To anything good.
I knew
answering
wouldn’t lead me
to anything good.
And I wish It was
That thought—
the
Impeding,
rational force
The reason
for not
picking up,
But sweetheart,
honestly?
It was 3 am,
I was not that
mentally strong;
I just wasn’t
Awake.

Sundays are made for God and for poetry.
For they both can see us fully through.

My brain keeps rotting
But I just don’t care.
the longer I scroll
The more chances I get
Of catching a glimpse
Of your beautiful face

Imperfection is exquisite beauty
It can love whatever it adores
And on rare and diamond occasions
It can even love itself
Sultry as candle sighs
Cool as evening breeze
It soothes the honey coves

It is a Spring sunrise
And the dew upon the morning glories
Goldenly blush
The moonlit caress is the caress of love
To make it through the day

The reveries make it more sublime
Solitude is the rose friend
When all has drifted like clouds

Tresses in the fur of breeze
Upon the verandas of loves gaze
There shall be rainbow bouquets
And things like stars sweetly ablaze

The rain sings
Its notes of jazz and comfort
Some like her sweet
And some like her sultry
The misty eyed fountains
feel her allure
Like a sunflower cure

Waves shimmering
And shimmering
Whether if its a fiesta or siesta

The rain has honey accents

Reynaldo Casison

Something about the fact that I’ve been patient
Keeping my thoughts and actions all to myself
Why do I hesitate so easily
Like I’m not proud of myself
Why do I give up so easily when I know deep down I can make it
So much self doubt within
Sometimes I hate it
Should I be who I’m destined to be
Or should I let this side rot
Building up on years of telling me I should stop
Breaking down every barrier
Cause this time it’s to late
Never will I hesitate at my own fate

Turns out,
I’m a talented repairman.
A messed-up wall?
I’ll fix that patch,
and find the perfect paint,
to colour-match.
A misunderstanding?
I’ll shape the perfect situation,
So It can be flawlessly justified.
Yes. I’m a great repairman.
Because after all—
I’m nothing,
but a destructive tenant,
In the flexible lease,
of your heart.

small island life
blue in every direction
where sky comes down
to share breakfast and tea
with sea
and ocean