Only the dead are smiling.
To Console a broken heart takes strength
Blessed are the pure of heart, for they shall see God.
It took thirty long years
To unraveled the mystery of a lopsided affairs
She had love with conditions,
Only a few could ever endure
Finally, it came to an end with a confrontation

She said,    is she the other woman?
Lost in the moment of truth
His jaws drops while he mumbles the words
And said…….I have no idea what you’re talking  about Ruth

The music will go on forever,
While the night is still young
But a liar will always carry a twitchy eye
And the breathe of a skunk
My sister lover

We all knew him,
But she never knew his a quiet, somber demeanor".
It’s the timing of the beats in the song that matter
Gag long old friend, go long!
Spread your seeds amongst the thorn of hell
While your ****** fetishes moves to an unexpected object
“Let called her night rider”

Have you ever watch someone peeling a banana?
As they carefully remove the peel
Watch how the fruit emerge to the opening
That’s the same perception of the Gays and Lesbians on the street

Outside most doors is a heavy stone
Making it impossible to get out
So most of us take the easy way out
We climb down the ladders and onto the pavement
And said oh well,” I have solve that problem for today”
So what about tomorrow, and the day after
Do you have to go through that again?

Being nice to people is expected of us,
For us to survive in a world of delusion and confusion

Poetry to me have been my way of expressing my thoughts
However, I know of other ways to express them too
But why argue!

When I looked in the mirror I see a brave woman
I walked the street amongst the people
I see, a generation of confuse individuals,
who had to climb down those ladders
I saw children holding the hand of they guardians,
as the little Tots gazes
Into the eyes of the bystanders,
while the whispers became louder
“What is going to happen to those?
“Poor innocent child
I seldom smile, at the comments  because
Pink is also a beautiful color.

To keep thee from the evil woman,
from the flattery of the tongue of a strange woman
Lust not after her beauty in thine heart;
neither let her take thee with her eyelids.(Proverb)

His eyes were filled with a deep sadness
My Granddad became the bastardy king
in Nana’s eyes
Meals that was once set for a king
Was no longer being served with his favorite homemade bread?
his late night ginger tea was swap for coca cola
from the old ice box.
Nana just know how to discipline the old fool

Together we sat on the stoop and make small talk
He told me that he messed up big time
And felt like disciple Peter
he was afraid that my Nana would never forgive me
I looked attentive at granddad and said,
“Yes old goat you bite off more than you could chew
With those missing tooth

I guess what I said made him laugh out loud
I remember putting my hands quick over my mouth
Like loose lips sank ships
Now! listen here  little lady
Are those your Nana’s words? said Granddad”.
I nod my head and smile

Remembering my Granddad
On father’s day

Eavesdropping

A good man is hard to find
Said my Nana,
That was the day I saw tears in my nana’s eyes
As she nervously stuff her monthly tithe in the envelope
And headed out to church that Sunday morning
Before, shouting at my granddad
I guess she was mad as hell at the old fool

That was the day I found out that my hero my grandpa
Was having an affair with the widower Estelline Beckley
“Ellie you’re the only woman for me said my Granddad”
However, my Nana wasn’t haven’t any of that
So she slammed the door on Grand dad

I remember being scare, and confused,
About this family feud
So, I hid under the table, and prayed to God
for the scream and shouting to be over

For several weeks all my Nana did was prayed
And all Granddad done was to burnt her pots and pans
Boiling water and making coffee.

Nana told the neighbors, that those harlot with a trail
For a rear end,
can cause a man to climbed, a mountain without his proper gears
That statement still baffles me until this day.
Until many years later when I met my mother’s sister
here in New York the spit and image of my mother.

But had the very spirit and expression of my Granddad
so much for eave dropping and family affair

People build million dollars homes
Far away from the city dwellers
To be free from ordinary folks
Are well known loners

They even tried to own the high sea
Unfortunately, it belongs to all nation and mankind
It’s  known as freedom and seafaring power to all

In hopes of a segregation
without the unnecessary advocating
they build swimming pools;
and Bob wire fences

It’s hard for many of us to create duplicates of heaven
Without the approval of the mighty one
These efforts would remain tantalizingly and unreachable
Like the keys to the golden gates;

Some of the loners that goes down to the depth of the ocean
To do business in the water, have failed miserably
after they have seen the works of the all mighty

However, with all their money and the power
They is no escaping from your neighbors
There is only one thing that separated us
is death

She wore a silk yellow chiffon Cancan flare dress
With yellow ribbons in her hair
From the look of her brittle fingernails
And the way she held the hem of her mother’s skirt
I knew that she was a nervous one; with her watery eyes
Her mother kept up that old familiar fake smile
The nervous one keep repeating
“There a big fly under my dress;

I often wonder why the visitors
Never attends our churches
But would come calling on the neighbors in the afternoon

A stack of leaflets in one hand and a black sachet case in the other
I always thought of them as a demanding group of worshipers
My grandparents seem discontent
With their teaching; so to ease the charade
It came off like  Bible bashing

My nana would offer them a glass of lemonade
While my grandfather debate the lectures
They call themselves Jehovah Witness
"Hogwash  said Grandpa"

A Jehovah's Witness must walk the walk,
not just talk the talk.

I knew that it was always there, only about a block away
The Ocean
I could see the Single Ferry sailing with piles of wooden boxes
my colleague whisper to me
“Those are cadavers inside those crates: heading toward
Hart Island Potter’s field project
to the unknown graves.

The seagulls and the wild birds enjoy the ***** sandy
While taking in the early sunshine here in Coney Island

I remember a long time ago, when I had the sea fever
I would walk bare feet in the sand, and tossed small pebbles in the ocean
Rex my dog, would chase the seagulls and wild birds away
As he enjoy his morning walk with me

The cool breeze would massages my face and the hot sun
Would quickly dry up the salty vapors,
which made my soul rejoice each time we took that stroll
along the white sandy beaches on the Island of Bim

Seeing with the eyes of a poet’s is a gift
my thoughts, and  my unusual language,
The world sees  us poet and author as liabilities
A true emotional poet has a way of making you believe that the
“Sky is falling,
so he or she may suggests that you prop  up sky with the clouds
What’s in a word, besides noun and verbs and adjectives?
A poet’s heart, and they emotional torrent
So once again the sky is falling
While the rain turn to sleet ice pellets
A poet ways of seeing the beauty of it all
Through her work