*** the controller
They heard us outside the bedroom window
Breathing, Moaning, Panting, Grunting and Screaming
in the calm of the night, calling name of the Gods
While the salty sweat drips from our bodies,
Under the Caribbean heat waves, many moons ago
what a summer to remember
But some confusion for the nightly crickets' melodies
Who thought that their sound was the loudest?
They were trying to tell me something with
their loud bark, danger, danger, danger, danger, danger, danger,
Little did I know what it meant,
It took me years to interpret the meaning of a dog bark
But with a poem, I can now relate with poetic words
Their bark was meant for me, myself and I

A little guest house near Oisten, the ocean breezes five minutes away
And at the time, deep withing I thought that I was in love,
With love, or a dream, which became my futuristic mishap
When I forgot to love me, myself and I
The spirit of a dead lover, wants to control me

All *** is about energy, and sound brings energy."—Barbara Carrella

And the bark of a dog pitch can foretell one future,
Too late, but now I know....

We seek wakefulness,
What is Barbados to me?
Hot sun, and Broad Rim hats and old khaki pants?
Robust men with warm undertone skin,
That blends with the cultivated land.
We seek constant reassurance from the one we love
That they will be there for us in good times
Or bad times, just to feel good about ourselves.
What is America to me,
I mean so much to me,
A place where I was able to educated my offspring,
While I work from sunrise, to sundown
Under pressure, under humiliation however,
Every sunrise holds more promise, and every sunset hold more peace. – Anonymous.
We seek solutions for all the hateful people,
We cannot solve our problems with the same thinking that created them.
”
We can’t sit back and do nothing
Or wonder when the race hate will be over,
I think the Putin's war in Ukraine going after the wrong people:
We seek justice, for hate crimes
What Jamaica to me?
The place of rhythm of swing and slay
Where someone can fall in love today
And deceive you the next day:
We seek answers, but only God know
That his creation is out of control:
We seek peace and peace comes with love
Where there is no love, in one's heart
There will be no peace.
We all know about a little wisdom
But did we put it to the test
God opens millions of flowers every day without forcing their buds
Food for thoughts my poetic friend.
Be vigilant, be wise, never trust anyone.

His favored ones, whose backs bend o’er the soil,
He blessed the hands of the ones who look after
His animals, with loving care, with sweet voices,
So gentle so caring, then, he blessed his children
In everything they do. And that is you, my Johnny
Tears, praise, love, joy, enwoven in your chest
As I watch you make adjustments, like the river of life
However, Johnny where there are no Roses
There is no hope of predicting, the love of a side chick(😊
With lots of bedroom tricks, more than professional decorator:
My wonderful brave robustly man of the soil,
I love your smile, your pouty lips,
And the way in which you announce my name,
Your gift from God is supreme,
as well as my futuristic dreams
Brave one of the Caribbean soils,
It was a wonderful thing you done
That night as you stay up late and spoke
Hello to me!

My Wednesday Ranting .. Therapy
In deep darkness on a cold night
I listen to his heavy breathing,
He seemed like a tired person last night
Today, I am tired of broken love,
Tired of not being able to fully trust
This thing called love,
Love is supposed to be kind,
Love is supposed to be patient
He wants to cuddle, I just want to sleep
I never know when a poem will come to me
Throughout the simplest ordeal.
I love his smile; I love the feel of
his prickly unshaven ****** hair against my cheeks
As I write, I create myself again and again---Joy Harjo--
As I write, I remember bad times, bad things,
Of infidelity, --- Annie Lander
It wasn’t cheating, it was the image of my thing
Doing things to others, making them scream!!!
My wicked unsettled mind keeps asking me questions
That I cannot answer, however, I had asked God
To protect me and my sanity.
Let my fears compose a poem
And allowed me to understand, why the most painful thing
On earth is to love a man?
“Sometimes, giving all of your love isn't much so save a good soul, it demands soul for a soul as fair payment.”
― Gurusharan Singhs

A little nod to
Walter Everette Hawkins
Ask me why I love you, dear,
And I would ask the sparrow
If it matters! That he ..he stutters
Love is a forbidden nectar,
And so we are like flowers; and bloom only, when the sun, kisses us.”
― sir kristian goldmund aumann,

Don’t ask me if I still love you
I wouldn’t ask you my heartbeat,
If being downright violated isn't too much for me
Ask me why I love you, one more time
And I will ask the debt collectors for more time
Or I will ask my brain, not to confuse me
mind, body, soul and spirit (my Trivedi effects)
Then it wouldn’t be any need for us to get upset
If I get the right answers
I will smile with you again,
Ask me why I can't trust my heart with you
Let the other one reply.
She knows you better than I do,
When the **** hits the fan
Where the heart is pure
And if we can’t find the answers
We shall depart
only the inner voice gives me freedom

Lady Folly
He did not kiss me when he said good-bye;
I let him go, not asking why,
Self-reflection
But I knew why, today I am taking a break
To reflect on myself, on this blessed Palm Sunday
What do I really want, what do I really need?
Somedays I think I know,
especially then I fall back into my mode
I see things others don’t,
my ****** muscle contracts each time
he rolled over, and touched, another,
even as he spoke kindly, I always knew
It's not cheating for him. Somehow for me
It's an invasion of one's privacy
As I feud within: I shattered mirror,
Of myself, this can’t be love it's not real:
Even though,
I’ve learned it is far better to lay in an empty bed
Then to lay next to someone who makes me feel empty(quote)
In my case, I am experiencing a folly of a woman
When Lovely Woman Stoops to Folly


WHEN lovely woman stoops to folly,
And finds too late that men betray,
What charm can soothe her melancholy,
What art can wash her guilt away?
The only art her guilt to cover,
To hide her shame from every eye,
To give repentance to her lover,
And wring his *****--is to die.

Oliver Goldsmith
URL: https://able2know.org/topic/6894-1
Poetry can be therapy, poetry can be therapeutic,
These past memories, months of longing feelings,
I need the touch of his hand, his voice I can easily retrieve
The path of my writing is a path of truth,
I am the one that contributed to this madness,
I am the one with the poet's keyboard and pen
I am the one that should have just stayed friends,
I am the one that hate all men,
I am the one that loves, hates, and then love again,
Emotions, emotions, keep taking me in the wrong direction,
I want to go back, to my safe place, called loneliness
My heartbreak hotel

Make love to me with thine eyes,

I will respond with my body

Never leave me feeling unfinished

Like the house of a carpenter

I will never ask for more;

my ****** drive increase,

Shifting, like a rebel without a cause

I will not Forfeit, until you are ready

Or until my heated pillow catches on fire.

Make love to me with thine eyes,

never let your hands touches my body.

I will send you kisses by GIF tenor

But I will cartoon your Pilli **** with pleasure

The lord is my shepherd  

I shall not want. Psalm 23

However, Make love to me with thine eyes,

I will not forfeit, until you are ready

If not for me, let it be of goodwill