Gold so glitters than any gem that doth shine,
Effulgently than lanterns of night skies,
Dazzlingly than a moon kissed shoreline,
But nears not my seraph's opalscent eyes.
Yes, so fresh are the waters of the Nile,
With exuberance of a silken Moon,
But nears not my seraph's vivacious smile,
That tends to draw all that doth breath to swoon.
Yet I know: "Velvety is Heaven's chin,
Whose frickles bear such a novelty luster
But nears not my seraph's unblemished skin;
More fair than them in a wondrous cluster.

So true love is but a gem that doth shine,
With a luster that at one's soul doth twine.


©Kikodinho Alexandros
Jumeira, Dubai
6th February 2017

My great grandmother,
passed away 10 years ago,
but last night,
she stood at my bedside.
She told me the story,
of the beautiful butterfly,
who feared to fly.  
She told me,
this butterfly was beautiful,
much more than the rest.
Her wings shone of gold,
with a deep silver hue.
She was so beautiful,
but she always wept.
She feared,
her wings were broken.
Then came the day,
when she looked
towards the sky,
only to see the
rest of the butterflies
begin to fly.
That's when she realized,
now was her time.
She stretched out her wings,
and leapt off the vine.
She fluttered her wings,
and was lost to the sky.
She had faith in herself,
and her wings
carried her just fine.

When humankind is out of control,
The world suffers a giant loss.
Threats of mass extinctions aren't
Difficult to come across.

More than half of the world's primates
Are on the verge of extinction due
To agriculture, logging, mining,
And hunting. Where's the hullabaloo?

Lemurs, chimps, orangutans,
And lowland gorillas are under threat.
When we endanger others, we also
Endanger ourselves, don't forget.

Habitat loss, climate change,
Wildlife trade…. Scientists fear
That if these are not halted, many
Primates will sadly disappear.

We're talking about numerous species--
A couple hundred, not just dozens.
What is wrong with **** sapiens?
How could we do that to our cousins?

-by Bob B (2-6-17)

She let the tape go—
on record
one evening for an ordinary hour
Five years later, we play it back
for laughs after dinner—then as now

“Remember how the stove door screeched
at the house on Olive Street?”
And our voices!
Phoeb’s, lighter–tired
wrapping the nine’s tables in elastic yawns
like flash cards in a rubber band
“Phoeb, your pitch changed so—
while  I turned...”
to run water in the tub
lamenting the **** of Two
in frenetic escape of hands
Unruly!
Running rebel taunts in Time’s strict face
who would not dare disturb her dawns
only mine—
Roused by the first round of another day’s
ring of twelve
digits that insist
like uniform with apron waiting
on ironing board that’s never folded

Now the **** of Two cries out
Exultant!
of success in *****
Then, Oratorio for Soap!
The splashy version
with endless bubblings of “Rocky Baby!”
and obbligato of “Where’s Shampoo?”
in jubilant glissadal plunge
an octave through vocal whoops!

…I had not thought
she hardly talked
but sang and squealed or whined in tunes
Her voice lay open to her soul
a roost of piercing humming birds
small of words
but filled with sweet and want
incessant wings and things to say....

How could we have forgotten?

“Are these your boots?
Your clothes laid out?”
From sound and talk, we still can hear
frost phantoms
in winter window rattles—then as now
And Phoebe remarks how one voice
didn’t change though—
“Still talking to herself”

We laugh
and let the tape go....