i decided  that love meant nothing to me
did my research, had my share of rejection
took the wrong path, almost

Allowed Satanism to enter my life:
it felt like i was seeking,  seeking, seeking
but i always whispered  ,
my God is real, my God is real
he is real in my heart, 
 I felt the pinch of a pin,
my knees buckle under, and i kept on saying
what the ****,  what was i doing ,
my God is real
how did i end up in a place, like that :

as i  reflected, i came to this conclusion that it was for love
love for us, love for the family, love for the union.
But, surely it wasn’t,
I  never truly experience love,
Or toe curling ******:  only burning pain,
I decided that love meant nothing to me,

Did my research, had my share of rejection,
Took the wrong path,
almost sign into the Satanism camp
Seeking, looking for something, lost love,
Many winters, spring,
summer fall and back to autumn
Still no peace within,
love meant nothing to me

It was hope that lifts me up;
I had asked  God  for only one thing
And that was to dry my tears, and lesson my fears,
Somedays, i felt like screaming, when loneliness
Tries to get me down:  
then i remember that love means
Nothing to me…..



,

On the Beach that day  
Somewhere near Olsten’s Bay
Wind whistle as the tourist passed by
My heart felt light, yet it felt heavy:
Blue Caribbean Sea water, wrap around me
Like an invisible burrito

White sands cover my brown toes,
My one size fit all bathing suit cling against my
Pear shape body: my thoughts were unstilled:
                Frightening:

the surrounding was a perfect fit for true lovers,
Somehow, I felt trap in a circle,
what it love or pity for this mortal
“A man cannot be comfortable without his own approval.” ~Mark Twain

I suppose I was that man/woman:
Rejection is the most unforgettable thing
Move on, rub dirt on it. (Malarkey)!
Why did we allow this to happen to us?
Why did he allow this to happen to him?

Deuteronomy 21:15-17
“If a man has two wives, the one loved and the other unloved, and both the loved and the unloved have borne him children, and if the firstborn son belongs to the unloved, then on the day when he assigns his possessions as an inheritance to his sons, he may not treat the son of the loved as the firstborn in preference to the son of the unloved, who is the firstborn, but he shall acknowledge the firstborn, the son of the unloved, by giving him a double portion of all that he has, for he is the first fruits of his strength. The right of the firstborn is his.

It not a good thing to play a hero!!

Is it the rows of cold rooms
On the stench of the unit, or the
Thirty eight doors to be open
in addition to the thirtyish mouth to be fed,
Where the exit signs taunts: (leave)?
Untold stories behind each sound of the peg tubes:

Do I really belong in a place like that?
Is that where my poetry ideas come from?
Do my poems arise from there?
Flushing the sour milk, clearing their airway
Start from their stomach and ends with the ****:
On a stinky unit, where thirtyish mouth to fed
And fortyish beds to be made in a sense of three hours top

The cure for a hardened heart is to keep,
a total commitment to keep your MIND state on the Lord!
Lord, why me? I shall never smile with the living
Or weep for the dead: why me?
why the poet from Proute Street..?

How to make yourself happy
compose a poem
and called it poetry,

let your inspiration comes
from that day, that time, that hour

when you felt sad:
then whisper to yourself
Good, golly miss molly
I can breathe again:

The light that once gleamed from my eyes, the golden beam that upstage  my caramel cheeks; my rude lips upon which he pressed his own hungrily—my naïve body, darker than the night: rejected  his hours of longing: I just can’t forget that day he walked away”

Abortion for some is a stubborn memory,
Mistakes, a mishap, a brutal ****,
Shameful memories that wasn’t call for
Unwanted Fetus, no more abortion
Said the lawmakers

No more jobs, for the clinics
no more work for the undertakers:
no more daily entries to birth registry
Women, has the right to choose
Lawmakers has the power to brutally
Say we don’t care: closed all abortion clinics down

Let the fetus grows, and become a man
And brutally **** again,
Lawmakers had the power to choose
A ****** can continue to **** and impregnated again:

*Charles Dickens (1812–70)
QUOTATION:
If the law supposes that,” said Mr. Bumble,… “the law is a ***—a idiot. If that’s the eye of the law, the law is a bachelor; and the worst I wish the law is that his eye may be opened by experience—by experience

To feel the morning sun upon your face,
To be awaken with the kiss of the morning sunshine,
The sound of the birds chirping an unknown melody
Human voices, of laughter from far away,
Foreign tones without the titles,
Somehow, you manage to walked to the bathroom
First thought, where am I? How did I get here?
Why am so alone?


My poem always has a meaning,
My soul is tired, my soul is loss
Rubbing the palm of my hands together
Doesn’t seem to work this time:
It’s best that I reached for a glass of wine
Life can take us, or break us,
Lord whom can I trust?
I don’t need anyone to love me
I often whisper under my breath
But when the breath whisper back
Girlfriend, this life of ours is merely a test
a crazy ride dude, a crazy ride this
thing called life…no update, no update:

Cleansing my Aura with a good write
A good version of my inner thoughts
Without burning my candle at both ends
My friends…..my poems always have a meaning.

~~
*My candle burns at both ends
It will not last the night;
But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends -
It gives a lovely light." Ones of Millay’s open stanza