That day when I met the Eskimos
they were sitting by an ice cube house
On the hot Caribbean Island of Brim
I was about ten
The Tourism Board parade them like cattle on an auction block
Somehow, this Trinidadian floosy remind me of Eskimo Nate
All eyes in the shop were on her hips
those
bewitching and enticing  moves

As she walked away,

Her long dread locks swing from side to side
I knew it wasn’t black pride
who was she trying to impress?
There wasn’t  a man insight

just a beauty shop full of high volume of estrogens
and mixtures of hair bleach and toxic fumes
so difficult to consumes

The hairstylist just knew how to work it
with her deep orange outfit,
her usually looking pouty lip;
would make a Godfearing woman turn tricks

The **** bowlegged female *****
Never seem to quit.
She remind me of a younger me
a very long time ago looking for a mate
stylish, feminine young thing
But look where that got me
An unfriendly divorce and years full of hate

The youth of today will carry on the old Madame tradition
If you got it flaunts it.
Make the cowboys want it.

Whose mouth do I speak with
When my anxious thoughts multiply within me
from my heart or from somewhere deep within
Should I bridle my tongue?
Or should I allow it to ride the wind
Until it lessen with time

It’s  tempting: to give away my thoughts
I hate the sound of other poet’s pens
Should I freeze their ink cartridge
and spare the world the pain
from their internal and external mishaps
Should I close my eyes, and say
All's well with the world
The things we must do: not to offend

However, we have to endure many things
to conquer and to win bits at a time
“Comrade-in-arms to my old friends”
all isn’t well within our world.
Because I am a sonnet
In search of a poet
I am imaginative, forceful, and compelling
And sometimes disciplined
But today, who mouth must I speak with?
Anonymous
Your consolations delight my soul.

Hello
Hello,
Did you hear what he says?
If people were taught to hate,
They can also be taught to love
Nelson Mandela

We have heard of so many leaders
Martin Luther King Jr. and Gandhi
so many fallen heroes
Then we heard of the man who destroyed apartheid
In South Africa,
And quickly the word Nelson Mandela
pops into our heads
The dark and the light
the sadness, the pain,
Then there’s Nelson Mandela legacy
turning the other cheeks against your aggressors
everybody and every nation needs inspirations
but to win:
a soul is require to
become such power leaders like them

R.I.P Nelson Mandela
Our
Anti-Apartheid hero

He board the train at Newkirk
that was his train; that’s his life
a backpackers hostels retreat
to hell with the rest of us...
**** all the haters
**** all the on- lookers;

that seems to be his street attitudes
he slowly force his way between the passengers
they scattered like crows: the stench was so nauseating
we all held our noses:

but he kept on smiling
to hell with the world
they run the city subway cars
No 2, 3, 4, 5, Q, B
was he half a man for being homeless

I felt empathy,
I felt uneasy
But he kept on smiling;

As he sang love and happiness
One of Al Green famous songs
You be good to me
And he is good to you.

I got off that train with a sense
Of happiness being able to go home
life can be so bittersweet
for the poor unfortunate souls

the love and happiness,
he once shared.
Fade many moons ago
so he kept on singing
“Everybody needs an inspiration
Especially when the nights are so cold

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rqqAnjY2Rmo

Everything is poetry
even the shame and guilt of adultery
With a twist said Audrey
the weeping widow
she whispered these words
as they lay her husband
six feet under,
once a cheater, always a cheater
still knee-deep in bromantics bliss,
how twisted

He left her for another, who wasn’t the same
His preference got him a spot
behind the scenes old north church
where the white chalky blocks chip away
as the loud  town clocks
tick tocks, every passing hour;

She had a poetic moment, as they
bows their heads in prayer
the ant will welcome you, sonny boy
Toy
the earth welcome your  body
from now to eternity
dust to dust ash to ash
"Dust thou art, and unto dust thou shalt

She glances around and saw his lover standing there
she smile and whisper
Dust thou art, and unto dust thou shalt return
All burdens have been lifted.

I divided my tears into section
With each drop, with each snuffle
With each tissue: I thread
I remembering the good times we shared
Yesterday, was your birthday
today: it’s my revelation:   I  have taken
another course in my life: unlike the blackbird
I once encounter
Who were entangled with kite strings
high in the branch of a tree
his scary beaded eyes, his Okalee  frightening sounds

His destiny had lies in the hands that set him free
I remember standing there for a moment
and wondered, what would this bird ever do for me
if I set him free
however,  as we all know God blessed heroes
that day I was his hero

Today he is my revelation.
I never thought of that bird until this morning
I suppose he is long gone,
Since, the lifespan of a bird is short
But, I would always remember that little black bird
entangled in the mahogany tree: who taught me
the true meaning of empathy