looking around this empty room right now,
I’ve come to accept that the gig is up;
the party’s over, the lights are off
and everyone’s gone home:
the music here is quiet and tame
the basement echoes in phantom laughter
the window panes are no longer broken
the pyramids of beer cans have crumbled
the late nights have turned into early mornings
the dancing girls have turned into career women
and I had it good for a while, maybe too good;
shooting dice and rolling sevens and elevens
but now everything comes up snake-eyes.
I finally understood that the foundations of people
were more unstable than water and
less faithful than a Rush St. ******.
friendships and other relationships
sank faster than a mafia ****** weapon
(maybe that’s why they call them “ships”)
but as the aging hours of time came
crashing through like lightning:
I found love when love was unkind
I found hate when hate was merciless
I found people and stubbed them out like cigarettes
where by and by, it all turns to ash,
just mounds and mounds of ash,
windswept by gentle persuasion
and now they’re buried in their shrink-wrapped lives;
dropping kids off at soccer practice, attending PTA meetings,
hosting chili cook-offs, yelling at football games,
disgusted with Tuesday’s, bowling on Wednesdays,
pretending everyone’s doing fine and living quite well
while I am left here with myself
and this eerie moment
of reflection, now realizing:
it’s all gone.

Scroll is back, or what I saw was kind of a hack,
I was sitting ready to pack.
Feeling kind of way, but I just wanted to check
Hoping everything was on track,
I keep my reaches on the stack,
wish everyone wonder and contentment.
I hope it revives back the old sentiment.

amnesia finds me searching for what is lost
                    value or sentiment
                         the words           are               the first            thing           to
                                                              ­                                                       slip
each
at some point
    originated from these hands
their texture is unfamiliar now
though it's only been one day

full-on compositions are
released to the void
     luckily clouds hold some vapor

I hope it rains tomorrow

forecasts say it's unlikely I will
ever see you again
your disappearance hasn't even occurred
   (to me)   yet

dust will fall
but will ashes
                          this is a lesson in fighting for

I sighed it all away
  before any instinct to clinch
       or swing
          or break

am I better composed than my poetry
simply because I accept
          without questioning

the formulas are lost
      the charge is lost
            the message is lost
yet I still hope to discover myself

amnesia will remind me tomorrow
of another item vanished
but today I plotted out
a future
and nothing was missing

A fear of relationships and love often runs deep, tied to the pain that love can bring. The heartbreak, the intimacy of knowing someone deeply, and seeing them with another. They promised us everything, but now they share those promises with someone else. Love can feel like a mortal wound: death ends a life, not a relationship. What is lovely never dies but transforms into another form of beauty.

I harbor resentment towards my ex, but not towards his children. I love Coca-Cola, but not the caffeine. I love the act of intimacy, but not the togetherness it implies. I will always fear love, but I will never forget that one kiss, the last goodbye, and his first hello. The look in his eyes the day he cried. I won’t apologize for protecting my heart. My expectations of him shattered us.

“My soul, wait in silence for God only, for my hope is from Him.” (Luke 3:15)

I shall not fear walking the streets alone, without his hand in mine or his comforting words at the stoplight, “Please wait before we cross.” But I still fear love from mortal men, who can oppress, dehydrate, and suffocate us. However, God’s love never fails. I will always keep my distance from love, even though many say that love is life, and life is worth living with that kind of love. I will never tremble again or grip my heart because love has disappointed me. My love for them is genuine, but their love for me was about the money.

I stood in the old church,
At the back, near the entrance,
I haven't set foot in that church over the years,
It could be over thirty years to be exact
And there I was two times in one year,
Country churches have a warmth to them
Small and yet personal effects on one core
Friendship is rightly defined as a small church
My reason for being there was to say my goodbyes
To my loved ones, my mother and my godmother,
📷
Looking back on the moment, it was so nostalgic
So surreal, and all I was saying to myself, why, take her?
It was so good to see some folks I have not seen in years,
Their aging body fades their look,
I too was not the same, being sixty-seven isn’t easy.
I attended my childhood school year church,
St Matthews, I smile just looking at the old
Church, so many memories,
Father heard the prayer we offered,
But for the ease, that prayer shall be,
But for the strength, prayers give us,
2024 will be the year, that brought my family together
It was so wonderful to see all of them
From the young to the old,
I never got to go to the lovely beach on the Island
I just didn't want to,
Too much of everything all at once isn’t good.
Today my lower waistline is paining,
However, I can compose warm memories of July 2024.

Brittle bones,
knackered backs
look where have we been,
steaming
bickering
all within,
faltering legs slipping through the streets,

this man;
would you still greet?

Ashen lungs, falling through
bruised hands;
brimming of stench
been home late,
lately—

this man;
would you still put arms around?

old shirt pieces,
spectacles of destiny
uttering broken-frames;
for a new sweater
weaved into his soul-born.

this man,
would you call a miser still?

Look at those fingers,
go across the keyboard—
Look at the tubelight
light those eyes up
all night.

this man
would you still smile for?

For once,
let me know—
this man,
and his tears;
would you bear upon your lap?

calm seas, restless lungs

breathe it in
the mournful breath is out there

skin is numb

the words are too

holding still
hidden under the tongue

holding
hidden

one more dies before he gets there
(what did the letter say...?)

holding
hidden

what did it say...?