Earth, is receiving an unwanted guest:
A total disgrace, a worldly test
It surface in the dead of winter, as the
Silence invaded our towns, watchful
Stares from every human eyes:

In hopes that this is all lies, because of it
It teaches everyone how to pray
In the heart of this crisis.. We are self-quarantine:
Living in fear or living by fear is very different to feeling our fears.

Poetry Nevers makes nothing happens,
It make us think of the words, it make us become vigilant
Is this the end of civilization?
Is the corona virus, the anti-Christ?
Earth is receiving an unwanted guest
Stares from every human eyes,

Fear, in the heart of every man and child
Teach us how to believe and pray.
Is this the rapture???

The sun rises in shades of yellow
I can only hear one word social distincing
One song
“God show mercy on our soul
See the lines forming, feeling the panic
a bad dream: a bad report,
a conversation that doesn’t goes well..
The night of the living dead:

It’s me and my desktop
It me and my android phone
It me and the world outside,
It’s me and my fears,
It’s me and my livelihood

Somewhere are the hidden bodies,
I’ve put my gloves and mask:
I am old, I am a senior citizen
I might be shelter in the place order:
But I haven't been tested…..

A fast growing crisis..  Fevers are rising
Can we really flatten this curve?
Let’s limit the spread.
Lets work together

I hope our prayers are answered
Feeling safe again, feeling healthy
A vision of hope, a vison for peace.

No leisure travel, just adhere to the warning:

She buried him in his wedding attire
They capture a smile upon his face
a smile that reflects the artistic of a mortician’s skills:
Somehow, I saw the kings of
Sudan Dinka, Nuer, and Anouk
Smoothest, darkest, flawless pigmentation
in Africa

I stood there; I touch his face,
And I whispered why, why now,
I think I heard him said from a distance
Ma lady, every little thing is going to be alright”
I never meant to causes you pain, I never meant
To make you feel ashamed,

Try to remember, why we met,
And why I must leave now..
As they rewind the lid down,
I said it okay, its okay for now>
The father knows best..

Pain, regret—your sobbing;
And again, quiet—her gravely somber,
How could you. How could you!
Willingly, agreed to the ashes,
a very old ancient ritual:

I remember a mortal man: without the bold red
Now it’s jar of some kind.
Did he really exist, did he really?
Walk this earth, walk the block
Made those provocative laughter
During the moments, throughout the movies,
I remember this mortal man
Not a jar of ashes  pure marlarkey
We cannot kneel at his grave
Or read his tomb stones.
Wasn’t he his children hero?
A friend of a friend of a friend;

The man with the car who had the broken muffler?
The man who chosen the white ******
While she took a warm shower, and patiently
Waits for her to come back to his bed:

That face we love is truly missing
The voice we know will slowly fade:
Back half is this really true…,  is it the end?

In a world of filled of hate
Love is not the enough
We need a clean slate

We have given up on believing
The superior, then there is the inferior
The rich and then there is the poor
The celebrities and there is the followers
Then comes action, follow by reactions:
Politics and politicians:
Beam us up Scotty:  beam then down Lucifer

I read this morning that Kanye W
Is thanking the lord for his S68 million refund
Here I am thanking the lord this morning
Not to be gun down, by the drifters
Or to be sidetrack by co-workers,
Only if peace would come sooner,
And haters would vanish…..
Like the children of Hamlet town

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!!

Yesterday I watch a movie that had ten episodes
There I was alone watching into the morning 3: 00 a.m.
It was more about ***, lies, and manuscripts set in the heart of Maine

Limitlessness,

It mirrors the limitlessness of the human condition?
Facebook is like our mirror, we are always looking into the mirror
Facebook, Facebook in cyber space, who is this fearless of us all

Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who is the fairest of us all:
How many likes, how many visitors, how many notifications,
How many request shall I confirm or delete in a day:  why must I translate?

To see how the other half lived or used to live: juggling with the human behavior
I am running out of space to stored my poems, but my word kept coming

**Isaiah 55:11
so My word that proceeds from My mouth will not return to Me empty, but it will accomplish what I please, and it will prosper where I send

Never keep the ashes of your love ones bottled
To free a spirit is to free ones soul:
I believe in doing a deal once a week for someone<

Something about that feeling stimulate the inner me
It is more fulfilling than when they stimulate our *******,
Isn’t the …. good enough to get the job done?

Poetry writing moves me,
Old ancient painting and building get my attention,
I always sense the inner spirit of others
No matter how far away, they might be:
Sometimes, my stories are too sad to be told:

Flush the negativity out of your heart. Believe that life is awesome, and you have the chance to make the most of it.Quotes

However, do bear in mind that …It is not easy to shake off the gloom. The more you try to run away from it, the more it chases you. So let us learn to face our sadness: Quotes

When love becomes a universal migraine:

Forest of Broken Dreams
His kisses were illegal
Passionate, yet surprisingly forceful
Better than his first
More memorable than his second
His third smooch was as cold as a Bollywood kiss

I close my eyes every day,
And I asked God, why some people think
That it is a sin to be poor,
It is not good thing to take that tour,
Down memory lane,
Reliving  all those slam doors
Jeering, body shaming and the pretending:
Looking back, and feeling
that they love was like a charity case
Forgiveness is not what most of us think:

Love is patient, love is kind and is not jealous; love does not brag and is not arrogant, does not act unbecomingly; it does not seek its own, is not provoked, does not take into account a wrong suffered, does not rejoice in unrighteousness, but rejoices with the truth;

Those lips that we kiss;
Were lethal, like a late night walked
On a lonely street,

Love is patient, but not kind…
Love is a universal migraine..
with a combination of the wood nettle vine

There is a dream called Love.)

There is a dream call loved
There is hope and there is despair
Within all these that is said

These people honor me with their lips,
but their hearts are far from Me.
They worship me in vain;
they teach as doctrine the precepts of men.’
Another wonder scripture Quote

There is a dream call loved,
As human being some of us long for it
Some endure the worst for it
Just to hear someone say
“I love you. An antidote:
Love is the Antidote to Criticism and Judgment
Love is a weapon to hurt the one we love

You always hurt the one you love, the one you should not hurt at all;
You always take the sweetest rose, and crush it till the petals fall;
You always break the kindest heart, with a hasty word you can't recall;
So if I broke your heart last night, it's because I love you most of all." —Mills Brothers
?�J ?

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

Smiling on the outside, feuding with the devils inside
I made a promise to God,

That I would not allowed any man to make me cry again
Calling her name: calling out her name
Throughout a passionate moment of love making. Untamed

Despite the years in captivity, the victim
Still love the abusers: his was nerve racking:

*** for me is like my poetry writing: unfinished
I am constantly hitting  the spell check button

I always find a little happiness,
Then it fades like the passing months
Give a little, takes a little
Sometimes, we just have to heal
That wounded bird, then
Let him go free:
Stockholm syndrome is no exception.
Let him go free...Annie!
love is strange

Every house has a story:
Every piece of land has a past and also a story to tell
When l was a little girl:
I would dig deep into the earth looking
For proof to these stories: a perfumed bottle, a piece of rag,
You name it: I know there was a story.

I remember our first home,
After, moving out of my grandparents’ home
An old run down board house, with the open ceiling
Two bedrooms, no build in bathroom,
Somehow, my parents made it our home
For my siblings and I:

Something about the Iron bedhead caught my attention
The color of black, a little rusty, on the rims
But, l likes that old head board.
My parent got rid of the old head board
Just to keep up with modern times
I wish I could have kept that thing
I know where it is buried: in the gully
Those childhood memories of me
Digging into the earth for artifacts

Every piece of land is unique;
As well as every person is different..
Even the poet within me, seeks,
Not for treasures, but for answers,
I recently made some enquires about
Old man town man piece of land
Everybody wants it, but nobody can get it

Lots of stories can be told about this land
But not enough about the man character
They is lot of things I wish I done different

As a young adult, but I guess,
it wasn’t meant to be:
Today I am calm, yesteryears I was
That, poem that never was publishes.

A Balance Of Who's Right And Who's Wrong
Somewhere, there is a poem in our heads
About, Love, life, politics, natural disasters,
Religion and conflicts controversial issues

Suddenly, here come the uprising wars in politics
Isis and The Donald Trumps of the world crusaders

Here, we are as citizens, once again, starting to feel down,
Trying to find beauty in life, throughout the fixation,
A balance of who’s right and who's wrong,
These Obsessions with tic, TAC, toe politicians.
Somewhere, there is poem, a poem in waiting,
waiting, waiting, waiting, and waiting,

  Too many words, not enough ink for printing,
not enough folks who cares about such matters.
especially black lives:

  The up and down to natural disaster due to the
the tricks of trade in the political world of politics
the missing e-mail, the hidden birth certificates
the beauty Queen who gain weight,
what about the real issues, what about economy
War and famine, child molestation, bigotry and fakery..
so many issues, so many she said, he said,  and fake news

Suddenly, here come the uprising wars in politics
Isis and The Donald Trumps of the world crusaders
Here we are as citizens, once again, starting to feel down.

because of the tongues.. a man who speak in tongues.

is a man  who hides his word: his spirit is speaking mysteries

Written by
Dark n Beautiful  New York

I’m going to kiss your lips,
they are cold and taste like the word America)Quote)*
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I am going to say curry, turmeric, ginger and, garlic
The secret to one’s health:
the true radiant of loving ones’ body:
Like this secret place in my mind
The Gardens at Marqueyssac, Vézac, France.(relaxing)

I’m going to make love to you like the internet explorer
Two words Private mode: just to quench the thirst (even though)
It wiser to separate the two, business and pleasure
One word complication: never bed your business partner (unless)
If you can pulled it off like my heroine McKenzie Bezos (go for it)

I’m going to exam your tockley,
It’s sinful, and deadly, like the  initials S.T.D
I am going to end here with a prayer,
Asking for guidance, and Lysol sprays:


Dark Poem

The dead embrace the dirt
They will never sprung like
April tulips, on a frigid day,
Or survive as long as Hyperion roots

(The beginning of love is horror
of happiness (quote: Robert Bly)

So, let my poetry filled you up: with the knowing
(The dead are for morticians & butchers
to touch. Only a gloved hand)
before the dust….and ashes

Be more afraid of the living,
with their cold and warm hands
and deceitful minds above all things
they  spit and vinegar tongues

The living embraces the struggle of staying alive
Due to the many heartache and sorrows
~~~
(When those we love betray our trust,
We find the depth of human pain;
Oh, let me rise above these hurts
Until the sun shines, once again!
~Gertrude Tooley Buckingham, "My Prayer" (1940s)
*
So , let my poetry filled you up with knowledge of knowing
The dead cannot harm you any more,
Way down upon the earth floor,

Let the tulips once again bloom
However, let the earth worm do the rest.
Under the tallest tree in the world: coast redwood
Hyperion:

I move alone in the dark unseeing,
as I move toward the door, I remember,
there is only one direction
And that is back to the warmth of my bed
on this cold April day.....

The littlest things we dream about, that was so dear
Can be detrimental, because of modern technology
The lack of touch, the loss of sound, gone forever:

Lately, I have been transitioning words
Like Palate cleansers, Bayonne,
Sangria instead of writing
A daily poem, sometimes we just have to take a step
Back, and think, I came across this wonderful comedy show
The Neighbors’, which was pilot since 2012,
This show had last for two years: great lines
With some wonderful actors and actresses,

I can related, after feeling so alienated myself
being in this foreign country: Since 1983
I once lived in a small town in New Jersey,
Hiller circle, Red bank another part of New Jersey
(Me) an Island girl felt, like a real out of space Alien
Living amounts those upper class ****** folks:

I only last two years in that small town
my poor pride wouldn’t allowed it…
My pride was stronger than my feelings:
I had grown fond of Sally and Brad,
But, I knew

“Vanity and pride are different things, though the words are often used synonymously. A person may be proud without being vain. Pride relates more to our opinion of ourselves, vanity to what we would have others think of us.”
― Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice

I could have been a wonderful poet,
if only I had only taken on this craft seriously,
I love my quiet times on my keyboard,

I never pay much attention to rhyming,
My words are diary entries, to cleanse my palette
De stressing without taking a walk outside into
The Funky low grade city air in New York City:

*Never be afraid to raise your voice for honesty and truth and compassion against injustice and lying and greed. If people all over the world...would do this, it would change the earth

I was sitting on the black stool,
next to her bed
she was elevated into a sitting position:
waiting to be fed,

I seriously thought by now,
She would have been dead:
Her fragile body, the determination,
Of the outcome of her life span:
makes her seems untouchable:
first born,, walk in
with a grin on his face,
his thoughts was similar to mines
She should have been dead by now

Small conversation, mostly about politics
His fruitless marriage and memories;
Of her teaching him how to tie his shoes lace,
a contemptible, socially inept person. In a suit

I should have dress her in her black dress
to match his suit, it would have been effortless
with the struggle of getting her into it…
I remember his break the silence moment:
Did you voted for Trump?
Why would he not.. asked how is my mother doing?
Did politics seem to matters most to him,
Or her wellbeing: In such a vegetable state?

I took a few steps down the corridor.
on my way back his visit was over:
tops five minutes

To him she is worth only five minutes of his time:
a contemptible, socially inept person. In a suit
she sang at his wedding, she taught him
how to ties his shoe lace,

she lay upon the bed with a tube up her nose
Waiting: for them to rain on her grave

Because my kiss is like frequency and measure as the waves
My lips stays Plumper as a ripe cherry on a hot day
Just waiting to be kiss, in the moonlight:

The littlest things we dream about, that is so dear
Can be detrimental, because of modern technology
The lack of touch, the loss of sound, gone forever:

Shall we continued to forget the walks in the park
Making love in the dark, under the starry sky
Just to be trade in by the late nights video chatting?

Being an advocate of love, a unmasked spiritual intruder:
I enter the winging maypole of merry gestor: In my mind

because, my kiss is like frequency and measure as the waves
my opinion on the subject matter, never matters

P.S
**Be who you are and say what you feel because those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind.” Dr Suess

I don't know If I’m Having a Feeling
I don't have any emotions anymore
Or I am dreaming, while I am awake?
Is my mind exploring my feelings?

While seeking happiness in this 18 degree weather?
Baking a melodrama cake,
Pounding away my headaches,
Clearing the path, making way for better
Eggs, butter, flour, sugar and raisins

Raising the bar, with the baking powder
Of transferring my feeling into logic,
As it blend into a smooth non stanza
Poetic form of puppy love, clinching

and all that rises, rise in due degree
And is in everything we see and do.

In the footsteps of the day
Is not like the footstep of the night
My eyes knows the dark

My souls know the rooms
The corridors, the smell,
The peek a boo light under the
entrance door and they you are the shadow
of what was lost: once again:

  who knows what lurks in the heart of man:

In every home there is a dark passage,
Loneliness, grief, depression and marriage
They breathes soundly by your side: then the wreckage

Another year, another chapter, another longing
For skin hunger, waiting and awaiting:
Where does these emotion lead?
To deception, or tears,

So I am asking, what happen to my soulmate
The one with the locks that fits my keys,
and ,the keys  that fit his locks?

Now, I move alone in the dark unseeing,
as I move toward the door, I remember,
there is only one direction
And that is back to the warmth of my bed

There will be roses and daisy
When you are gone: dripping water
will drop from the sky liner,
the neglected tall fence overlaps

On to the neighbor property: little did she know
Those Iron bolts and hinges trap your ghost within:
Heavy with guilt, her bald spots will shine
Under her broad rim Sunday hat, as she sing praises
Many have notice that you are no longer there,
Now the world know of her secret love affair,
With the elderly church parishioner:
Holy, holy Oh God almighty

Those members can surely sin,
Now, the world know now of her ***** affair,
There will be roses, and daisy, when you are gone
Dripping, water from the sky liner,
Centipede in her bloomers:

And the ghost of you, will be trap in her chambers,
Where the sin of ****** was repeated,
These perhaps might be useless memories

whereas , a poet ears, and pen never forgets,
The tears of the dead, confession,
Oh, there will be talk of your passing,
Some good and some will comes,
across as being empathic

There is always that faint whisper of what a pity!
It took years, but the widow E.W. stood there and wept
Holy, holy Oh, God Almighty,

There is always
one more dead body
to make us sigh!

We fret at every little thing
We cry when, we should be laughing
And laugh when we should be crying:

Our humanistic way  of coping with life:
How Old Is Mrs. Claus? Mrs. Claus is 1,136 years young!
We will never grieve for the Mr. and Mrs. Claus

They will forever live in our hearts,
Fictional but pleasing to the young
We celebrated another Christmas once again
We cheer, we reminisce, and we hesitate about them

However,

**This is my wish for you: peace of mind, prosperity through the year, happiness that multiplies health for you and yours, fun around every corner, energy to chase your dreams, joy to fill your holidays!” — D.M. Dellinger: Quote

Give A Little : I take a Little

I am the daughter of a sharecropper
I am the real granddaughter of Netta
I am the element of surprises
Sadness and gladness is a part of my being
I give a little, I take a little and I
Pay the price and make the sacrifice:

I am the daughter of a sharecropper,
Back on the hills where the zephyr winds only
Last, for a nanosecond: while
Hiding away from the warm air:
this young child survive:

I am the daughter of a sharecropper,
I sing the songs of the old calypsonians
In memories of my ancestors as they
Sings and mocked their slave masters
Even beyond the grave:

Sadness and gladness is a part of their memories
I give a little, I take a little and I
Pay the price and make the sacrifice,
I have the scars to justified,
the other man white lies:
I felt the pain, in the cold rain,

I am the daughter of a sharecropper,
The granddaughter of Netta,
The element of surprises,
Here I am today still feuding with my choices
that I have come to make...….

Goodbye vanity
I was never in love with him:
Oh, no you departing fading days,
When would I see you again?

Your morning sunlight, your evening breaks
I long for summer days once more,
Stress, depression and the holiday’s mood will fade
The aching heart will adjust,
As it reject the love of a mortal:
I will love myself more, and more

But, like a child on Christmas morn
Tigger and I would be glad when Christmas is over:
We relived it through the eyes of our
Offspring: every year as it comes,
Another sibling to cherish,
Another moment to say to a stranger
Merry Christmas, seasoning greeting,
The happiest wouldn’t last

But the tears will rolled,
As the sun goes down on Christmas Eve
And yet and yet and yet another mistletoe
And where are we?
Back to square one…

There is no happiness in keeping
ill-feeling inside:
There is no joy in pretense
Only regret and resistance of change:

Happiness is when what you think, what you say,
and what you do are in harmony.”
―Mahatma Gandhi

Was I a happy child?
I was always caught in the middle
Always pondering, the next move,
Looking for that safe haven,

My life start off in fourth row
My mother fourth child:
My father six seeds:
Trying to find my way was hard:
I remember climbing on to the rooftop,
to seek answers about my position #4
It was a scary kind of calmness up there,
Those emotional upheaval moments of my life
Had come to mold me:  yet uneven as today:

Going up there was easy, getting down was the challenge:
Aquarius is well-known to carries water in order to cleanse and renew.
Every three to four year I have to cleanse myself from toxic relationships
I read somewhere, that toxic folks: are referred as the energy vampires
And as you know I hate those Lamias:
Faces like a sap dog, and sinking blow fish.

There is no happiness in keeping
ill- feeling inside:
There is no joy in pretense
Only regret and resistance of change:

Happiness is when what you think, what you say,
and what you do are in harmony.”
―Mahatma Gandhi

Happy Black Friday my poetic friends..

After last night’s rain the street
Smell like one of those booth peop holes on
42nd street:  Curiosities smear the cat:

This morning the sun is trying to make a
Break through: the pile of trash await
The landfill: just like the daily flushes
Of the unused pills:

We never give up. Our bodies are gradually dying,
but we ourselves are being made stronger each day
2 Corinthians 4:16:

Ten days to forget this cold: and dream of summer tides,
With a genuine smile, with gratification
I just want to forget this relentless extremely cold weather
not having to wait patiently for spring,
Which always leave me in apathetic state
  without my build in control: I am undone:
I struggle with my feelings, for my man’s servant
Open his eyes, LORD, so that he may see.

“Then the LORD opened the servant's eyes,
and he looked and saw …that I wasn’t really his Queen
but the ice  poet: his mere presence upsets me

*"In the depth of winter, I finally learned that within me there lay an invincible summer." — Albert Camus

Her eyes were wide open: she spoke with confident
The sun shines brightly from the west
That came directly from the boardwalk:

I tried not to stare directly at her lower parts
But once I look at the negativity :the body shaming
Keep on rising, my lips were sealed:

Hello, my name is Anna, and how are you?
I heard about them, I saw their videos
But to be up close: defaming the obesity epidemic
I saw Lucy the human sow pig,
The Triumphant Elephant struggles,
Years of food that could have save thousands
Of hungry children lives:
she lay there dictating, deteriorating

I stood there as a poet with a pen.
not a Nurse of a friend,
Gasping, sighing
She fights for air;
I fumbled for words of expression:

To report back to Jack Kevorkian:
Was on displayed: there that day
Her hands reach for the oxygen wire,
I knew and she knew how I felt about her
She looked right at me, when she said the words

“Anna do you speak the Language
I said “oh no, “God forbid
And from that moment,
I know she was waiting, waiting,
To leave this world behind her:


Sadly, I got to know her better,

she was sweet and sour at the same

she brought a bottle of champagne for the staff for
the New years, and in February she passed away..
R.I.P Dora

You cannot swim where there is no water
However, you can drown from the inside
Our skin changes ever seven years,
New cells, new ideas, new technology

However, the first lady in the house
Is not the same lady of yesteryears?
Even if she said she doesn’t care:
Most likely, you can drown from the inside
From tears, humiliation, aggravation

Never mind how traumatic those situations might be
There is no antidote for buildup pride 

Love is NOT the antidote to pride – humility is:
And who has agitated her more than him:
Her eyes and her voice show fears:
I sense her wait, she will be free again
Fake happiness is dangerous.

**Blessed are those who can give without remembering and take without forgetting." Bernard Meltzer

I cast a backward look—how the times changed

To the beautiful face in the stroller
She Smile, I smiled, the guardian frown
A child is not born to hate
Hate is taught:
Hate is the new formula in their supplements
home is where it multiply so easily:
Let not occupy kinship bias
Defused the bigots:
Save our innocent children:
No child is born to hate;
~~~~
*World's Wit and Wisdom
Children have never been good at
listening to their elders, but they
have never failed to imitate them.
James Baldwin, 1924 - 1987

Let a fool be a fool
Matthew 7:6
Do not give dogs what is holy; do not throw your pearls before swine.
If you do, they may trample them under their feet, and then turn and tear you to pieces.

I think a lot about the character in some people
The character of a person in
the dictionary sense of the word:
Is not the character in my book: per say:

Writing reflects the character of a person like nothing else.’

The characters in my poems, is never about me
it's about my wiliness to come to term with them:
For the past two years, I took on this character
Who am I, what was I thinking and who told me that I could
have taken on such a huge responsibility:

Friendship is better for business than business is for friendship.*
I have proven this quote to be so true:
I have always appreciated when someone give me something:
I would cherish they gift to the end:

Years ago when I was a teenager,
When things were rough, my cousin and I would
borrowed each other stuff… clothing etc.
I remember my favorite blouse, I lend it to her
I spend almost all my wages just to buy the top
She took forever to return it to me:
So one day I build up the courage to asked her for it
She promises that in a week time she would return it:
a week passed, joined by another and another,
I took it upon myself to go to her house
To bring home my favorite yellow expensive top
There and behold as I walk in her back yard: in the sink
I set my eyes on my yellow silk top: in a pile of *****
Dingy laundry, my heart stop for a moment
green and moldy, lying there,
Crying out to me: rescue me!
I just couldn’t believe my eyes:

She never had respect me or other people belongings:
It has been over thirty years, and I still have the pink
robe my boss had given me after the birth
Of my first daughter, I cherish it,
I appreciated the thought behind her wonderful gift
When someone give us something:
We have to considered how that person care
Enough to get us a little something:
a token of their love

I thinks a lot about the character of some people
How they like to used us, and when you can’t
Come through for them, they sulked
They feed on others sympathy:
Don't help people who won't help themselves:
Just walked away: take it from this character:

Let a fool be a fool

**Matthew 7:6
Do not give dogs what is holy; do not throw your pearls before swine. If you do, they may trample them under their feet, and then turn and tear you to pieces

My Reportage for 10/8/2018
When I was a child, my mother and the neighbors
would sit on the front stoop and gossip
about current events: ones would pretend
to be reading her book, but ones ears were like
cable vision indoor satellite: broadcasting
Christine Blasey Ford and Judge Brett Kavanaugh
Stirs up a lot in me this past week
About my childhood memories,

I felt unnerves, about topics that old folks chat about back then:
I remember the villains, child *** predators and ****** fathers
the child's entrapment and powerlessness era in our small village
Where the old folks buried the secrets under the rugs
And prayer about it on Sunday morn

Flashing back to those stories,
too often is nerve wrecking
I called them the gossiping sundown moments:
Shilling was a clone of Brett Kavanaugh: he drank and he forgets:

How happy is the blameless vestal's lot! /
The world forgetting, by the world forgot. /
Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind! /
Each pray'r accepted, and each wish resign'd
'Eloisa to Abelard', Alexander Pope

Those gossiping sundown moments,
Never dies when it enters the ears of a heedful child:
I was always one of those children,
Who was so careful about stranger’s looks?
the friendlier the neighbors sweet talk tones
I would take off with speed like the swarm drone
Odd! but that was all it took:

All emotions, even those that are suppressed and unexpressed, have physical effects. Unexpressed emotions tend to stay in the body like small ticking time bombs—they are illnesses in incubation.”
― Marilyn Van M. Derbur,
:

He called my poem
Wise and tropical
The heat of the Caribbean:

The tongue of the goddess
Years of eating so much
Fishcakes lace with Guinea Pepper Seeds
Ginger beer and mauby bark drink
Top with lemonade and pomegranates
remains in my blood stream:

When I dream, I dream
and react like a chosen prophets
So, I spread my words like a modern Moses

Message in my poems, are
Like ashes, they can’t be bottle
They have to be scattered
Throughout the internet,
Around the globe: global feeds,
Depending on the poet’s pen
The archives is not the place for them to be stored

I once saw my mother sob
As she kneel in the sugar cane field
The tears was for her children future,
These days I sob because of a bad dream
Our American dream is no longer valid,
a beacon of hope without a definition
for our future:

Tupac saw the comings
In his dreams,
Suddenly, the silencer
Silence him,

Martin Luther king, had a dream
A silencer silent him
Apparently, John Lennon was getting closer to the truth
he too was silent

He called my poems
Wise and tropical,
I think of them as written transmission:

The past is never too far behind:
We can never live it down
According to Doctor B . Ford
It’s unbearable:
It’s haunting, it’s inerasable:
For the victims to relived
those terrible nightmare:
in hopes that it they will go away

Somehow it never does
The worst is to see your attackers
Smiling, and moving on to higher ranks

Youth was wasted on the young,
Privilege children: overindulgence few
Not so wealth, not so wise
Today their party until dawn
In the future they wouldn’t remember
An old folks saying
What sweeten the goat mouth?
Would burn its tail end
The higher the monkey climbs
His tail becomes visible:
As you move up the ladder,
Your party buddies will grudge you
Your past will haunts you
Your hidden secret will be found:
Youth is wasted on the young,

Changes
As people we are always asking for changes;
Spiritual, politically or just spontaneously
During the election a number of folks asked
and some even vote for changes
We hate, we love, and we deplore acts of violence
then and now:  Now it haunts most people:
Some even would still consider shaking his hand:
Some got what their asked for, and some still undecided:

Let Us Not Become the Evil We Deplore.” By Amy Goodman

He never goes under the covers: he just love to be exposed
A ***** is a *****: in his eyes: He might asked to see the
Birth certificate, but not the death certificate:
but never the **** kit, the yearbook inputs or the
country clubs initial membership lists:
Birth for him meant still in control: death gone from one’s sight:

I was chatting to a friend one day, I said to him imagine
that everybody on this earth woke up one day
To find zillion of dollars in their procession:
What would that meant to others: the loss of the power:
Money is the leveler that runs the world
The bad things that we done in our youngers years
Will one day comes back to haunts us

The statutes of limitation is just the statue
Time will not be forgotten: Memories lingers
The pain, the shame of being in a humiliated situation
we are living in a divided country
Because, of so much greed and bigotry:

A change is coming: and it's coming soon
who run the worlds Girls!!!

A little nod to
Joseph Seamon Cotter, Jr.

As I lie in bed,
Flat on my back;
There passes across my ceiling
Last year’s thoughts and flashing lights of passing cars*

Three hundred and sixty days of things: clusters:
Horrifying stories of battered women and abuse children
Sickening parents with mental issues trended across the globe:
And a new seasons of Law-in order special Victim’s unit on Netflix
Teenagers and adult on a summer cruise: party hard:

Sunday church goers grasping the holy bible so tight to their *****
like a stick of dynamite golden heirloom
Girls under twenty in their fashion nova curves club outfits

Leaving nothing to the imaginations: the old men will live longer:
According to National Statistics estimates: without their pacemakers

As I lie in bed,
Flat on my back;
There passes across my ceiling,
Last year’s thoughts and flashing days of
Mishaps and misery on my job
As this coming year draws nearer, I pray
That I will find a way
Out of this path I have chosen.

Another Version

Hartley Forde

You can’t see the wind,
But that old mango tree,
Outside my window,
tell me it’s there..
.
I never travel with a raincoat,
Even though I hate getting wet,
Then here comes the aches and pain
And I started to wonder,
was it because I got a little insane..
I thought that I could
Have run faster than it pours
I haven’t heard of
any aircraft that outrun  a jet plane yet,
But, not so anymore,
I never leave my coat and cane,
When I am on a stool,

Oh dear, what has happened to me?
Am I aging? I am not young anymore,
Nor grey, nor old: for age is just a number,
But when the toil of the day
Merges with the aches and pain
With sighing sounds I start to wonder:

I still dance the night away, with my social tunes,
And waltz across the floor to all-time favorite of Strauss
See how I step back in time with the reggae beat,
Lighter than a feather on my feet,

Smiling, with my pearly teeth from ear to ear:
Life just isn’t fear: because age is just a number
That’s when the rubs and oil granny left me:
Come alive again in the neck of time,
to soothe the pain of my aching joints
I smile once again and said
“Oh dear, what do they say again,

Age is just a number and life begins at forty,
Because, I am just starting to be naughty:
Downhill !

written by:
Hartley Forde

I am not young anymore, nor grey , nor old, for age is just a number:    when the aches and pains begins to set in and I start to wonder, I never travel with my raincoat  although I hate getting wet, because if you think you can run for cover faster than  when it pours; you aim’s seen nothing yet .  But not so anymore: I never leave my coat and cane when I am on a stool .Oh dear what has happened to me?  
It's like I am getting old.  I still dance to my social tunes and a do a little waltz sometimes,   You ought to see me stepping to some back in time reggae:  after all of that: is when the rubs and oils granny left me comes alive again to soothe my pain of aching joints: Oh dear they say age is just a number and life begins at forty. Begins to go where:
Downhill!
Written by Hartley Forde

“If you wish to succeed in life, make perseverance your ***** friend, experience your wise counselor, caution your elder brother, and hope your guardian genius.”


― Joseph Addison

Her eyes were wide open: she spoke with confident
The sun shines bright through the open window
That looks directly to the boardwalk:

I tried not to stare directly at her lower parts
But once I look the negativity :the body shaming
Keep on rising, my lips were sealed:

Hello, my name is Anna, and how are you?
I heard about them, I saw their videos
But to be up close: defaming the obesity epidemic
I saw Lucy the human sow pig,
The Triumphant Elephant struggles,
Years of food that could have save thousands
Of hungry children lives: she lay there dictating,

I stood there as a poet with a pen. Gasping, sighing
She fights for air; I fumbled for words of expression:
To report back to Jack Kevorkian:
Billing above care: day in and day out:
Was on displayed: there that day
Her hands reach for the oxygen wired,
I knew and she knew how I felt about her

She looked right at me, when she said the words
“Anna do you speak the Language
I said “oh no, “God forbid
And from that moment,
I know she was waiting, waiting,
To leave this world behind her:

Grieve is the price that we paid for love,
As we lease our hearts to the wrong suitors
Without an written agreement,
We accepted deals
Consist of temporary arrangements,
and lots of physical attachments
As our body and soul flow into depth of ecstasy
Making the path clear for broken hearts
The truth was always there
Somehow it
Cloud our judgment
Because love is the state of insanity
And throughout time
it have done nothing for humanity.
Love is the state of insanity
Grieve is the price we paid for love
As we mourn and cling to our hearts
While our suitors, move on to they next
Seamlessly unaffected by they actions.
Not much for a consolation.
Just a reminder that love stinks.
Sweet and wonderful in the beginning
Devastating when it come to an end.
Grieve is the price we paid for love