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Dark n Beautiful Apr 2018
We sit side by side,
Mother, child and daughter
An unborn fetus, nurturing,
We had the same dreams,
The same feature and the same walk:

we had to take on bed rest for them to
Survives: we had to follow doctors orders
For them to be healthy and wise:
They didn’t ask of us to be here. We choose them
We lay with the wolves, and we
Got impregnated:

Nothing in those books had prepared us for
The their rude awakenings,
pages of good intentions,
Words from someone else’s experiences,

Not necessary our own stories,
Experiences of another….mortal man
I love quiet places, I love the silence of
My own heartbeat,
the crystals sound of the healing singing bowls
To stimulates ones/my brain cells:
the alien’s gifts for us humans beings:
One and one isn’t always meant to add to two
You see, one on top of one merges as a whole
Two on top of two piles up like a thick granite block
As parents we always wish the best for them

But it’s the ending we don’t know of : words
Of sadness, bitterness and loneliness
Came from places of ungratefulness
Not from the corner of one’s mind:

my mother is close to her ninety birthday
Through the years, those hands I once thought
to be so rough are still taking care of
Of her family, she prepares the family meal daily,
not neglecting the heavy house works

she still finds time to go the city and paid her utilities bills,
Her mind stays sharp to fight off the aches and pain
Of an aging body: I admired the woman for being so brave:
For managing joint pain

When the time comes for me to stay silence,
Is when I am dead: even then I shall appear as the
Ghost you were afraid of> Amen:
,
Dark n Beautiful Apr 2018
The morning sun appears showing us
Who is the star of the day?
It shows it power, until the rain
Comes out to play:

It sends a message to the evening shadow
Asking of it to confuse the night,
With diamond shape stars,
and moonlight and magnolias trails,
Light up the sky with star lights

We need the light, more than the dark
But we need both the sun and the rain
Said the weather man from sandy lane:
But who one needs the icy snow,
That one has to go:
It reveals it hatred just like the evil Snow Queen
So each morning  as you wake, think of how
The morning sun appears showing us
Who is the star of the day?

##“If you want to be reminded of the love of the Lord, just watch the sunrise.” ##
― Jeannette Walls, Half Broke Horses
Dark n Beautiful Mar 2018
A Glimmer of Hope:
This feeling of expectation and desire for a certain thing to happen to us
As most would analyzed this force of hope
A rose expressing hope, a yellow ribbon the symbol of solidarity:
of a love one,  a rainbow after a frightening rain storm
When, the fragments and flashes of thoughts life experiences badgers us:
we sometimes see a little glimmer of hope:
a force of evil and a force of good
just picked one and believe in it..
We as Poets try not to sound so biblical.

However, for our struggle is not against flesh and blood,
but against the rulers, against the authorities,
against the powers of this dark world and
against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms. Ephesian 6:12


Today, at this moment, my mind setting, my weekend
of mauby bark purging, I am  seeing and accepting
my glimmer of hope. For the past years, I went from
maybe, I see what we can do, maybe it was your fault,
you should go to church, you should leave things in God’s hands

If I hear anything I will let you know, I will talk to him,
I am seeing and accepting my glimmer of hope.
Never stop believing in yourself,
Dark n Beautiful Mar 2018
If this is no poem then:

Then it must be a good **** during a rainy night
Because it a rush, a rush to get to the finish line
Legs stretching higher than a frog most heroic leap;
That’s when you have to admire how terrific the organs
Can be during moment of ecstasy:
If this is no poem then

Donald Trump is not taking residency in the white house
Where Politics is still a multifaceted word: according the wikipedant
And hate intolerance, greed, revenge, violence, famine, disease,
Continues to be the number one problem in the world today:
If this is no poem then

There are no use for poetic devices, and my feeling shouldn’t
Get in the way of the truth, of setting me straight or free.
Poetry comes from the island, where the native spoke
Dialect like they don’t give a ****. .about the language called English
Breaking up words into sugar cane…and making raw brown sugar lyrics

If this is no poem then

It ought to be: or take the road to Bombay:
And see if the folks there really love poetry…
or give a rat *** about they missing teeth.
Dark n Beautiful Mar 2018
The things we grow tired of were the same things
we once love and adore, in our relationships
Their faces, their smell and their voices
What a turned off: what a misconstruction
these little things turn out to be....
Dark n Beautiful Jan 2018
Hold your arms out wide for my welcoming,
Let the shyness of you shake like a leaf
Bring out that swagger moves:

That, lion wait to devour someone,
Lift up thy chin, pulled back those shoulder,
Hold your arms out wide for my welcoming:
Let the lingering scent of my oil, blast that
Burning fire, because all eyes are on me

The snow Queen shall melt faster in the sun:
Before, the jumbo jet takes a rest.
Walking toward you, and only you:
Unleashing the tigress within my soul:

I may walked like Jessica Rabbit
But purr and walked like a white Persian cat:
Let my walks tell my story.
Dark n Beautiful Jan 2018
Funerals for him is killing loneliness
He sets the alarm clocks in time for the announcements:
If familiarize with the names of the dearly departed:
he lights up like the light on Broadway:

The dearly departed is at rest: his struggles with reality,
of how the world runs: is unsettling:

the funerals arrangements is always the same:
The tone of the announcers : slow and gloomy,

Black and white would always be the traditional attires,
and the hymn ash to ashes will echo in ones ears,
so long as the tears flow slowly throughout the services:

As they lower the leveler into the ground,
they are gone but not forgotten:  R.I.P

Poet and death titles,
Death shall have no hold on me,
Death shall not make me sad,
I refused to mourn death: and that's the truth about me

Drinking and eating after the services: Is it a good gesture?
From soak tissues to soggy appetizers: the crowd pleasers
From the wet cemetery: to the living rooms floors

Poets feel and see the irony:
As they sat in their black and white attire, eating and drinking
Mount Gay or cold Banks beers:

The colorful graveyard welcomes another tenant:
Funeral for him is killing loneliness
He set the alarm in time for the announcements.
Fear man, not the dead: we two are so incompatible

**Regardless of whom you are or where you’ve been
You can be what you want to be. W. cement
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