The weirdest sound came from my own voice
I telling him that I was afraid of the water, his teasing voice
Made the sound of the waves rush to shore

And there I was terrify, with the fear of drowning
While trying to be the brave female goddess  
My long wet hair looks flawless at the moment in time
And there we were enjoying the four level of happiness on that day.
  That was the day when we forget about the worldly things that enslaves us with guilt:

Him and me we made a breakthrough, his genuine smile
and I with my nervous laugh
Our persona shine brighter than any lost diamond in the white sand

we were upbeat, like any other loving couple on the island
as the relaxing sound of the waves electrify us into peaceful pebbles

We made love with our eyes; we tally up the score with our hearts
We officially went from being friends to lovers.

Long before I ever met you,
I saw you in my dreams
You were faceless,
Without a name
I felt that burning flame of love

Life has a way of putting the puzzles of one's life together
Unlike a floating feather
We landed on soft white smoke clouds

I manifest my DREAM while sorting my fears
The fear of love is more to be dread than love itself
You were faceless without a name
I saw the burning flames of love within your eyes
You saw a vision of uncertainty within mines

Along with our wildest fantasy
My premonitions was I being lonely

Many angels appears as false prophets
As they fall on they face before the throne.
I rather be alone,

So forgive my angry tone
Your faceless tears, that reaches out to my heart
You’re flapping wings, my many scars, my downfall
Forgive me, forgive my angry tone

Your kind of loving, your kind of feelings
Your way of living, your way of thinking
Your thoughts are everywhere,
Your mind wanderers, your eyes lie

You held on to my every word
hundreds of words we uses daily
Without the physical action,
you say you love me
That doesn’t mean you love me
Because, you think it weaken me

We both use it, we both **** it
Your kind of loving, your kind of feelings
Your way of living, my way of thinking
Is what we reap is what we sow,

You **** your words, I bargain with myself
my words are counterproductive :

My kind of night, my kind of day
Productive, inquisitive and worthy
Your kind of night, unfilled and frustrated

Deep down you love her, she hates the aging you
somehow you still manage to love her
with all her imperfections,

you woke up at dawn, and make her oatmeal
and you serve her  breakfast in bed with a dying rose
How idiotic, how clever, how fatuous



*A good marriage is something you have to work at. It doesn’t drop from heaven

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.

  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..

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.

Earth to earth, Oh ashes to ashes and dust to dust,
How strange, how familiar, human connection is untrusted
when we awake, each passing day, knowingly that by sunset
Those words would be read out loud
Over an innocent, black brother’s grave site tonight
Too many tears, too many mishaps
who scattered those bullet caps,

Too, many innocent lives have been taken
By the hand of the nervous police,
Even The birds keep gliding in the air shows solidarity
In respect of the dead:
Some human wish they were like them they said.
A charge is one thing. A conviction is another
Black lives does matter.
Who pulled the trigger, which got the last laugh?
The innocent or the victims

More weeks of demonstration,
the fight for the white house continues with words not arms
Blood in the Inner City Streets, subways
and shopping malls, bias and frustration, sound the alarms

Who pulled the trigger, which got the last laugh?
The guns, or the victims,

My poetics tone this morning.
voice your opinion

She had just finish smoking the ****,
Then she decided to write a poem about smoking the joint
Or was it before she wrote the poem, or after she smoke the ****
Was the poem triggered by the ****, or did the **** triggered a write?
Does it matter now, after she rolled the **** into written words and smoke her ideas.
  

Al Cash once wrote that
*My soul absorbs you, my mind inhales your essence, and you confirm my life.” *
She usually took an aspirin after a terrible headache
But thinking out loud now she should have taken the aspirin before the headache
Or before she smoke the ****, that lead to the write
That eventually brought about the poem, which causes a migraine
Now her body reacts to the Drunken Sailor Syndrome
So once again never swallow a spider to **** a fly: just purge.

Never write a poem while smoking the ****,
Poetry is life natural high, an untimely wave that never
Cease to amaze us.

I had to let go the sweetest love, and let it rotates again
Because the journey to love is a journey to one’s self,
Your highest, most sacred and loving self(quote)

While my broad rim hat were shielding the sun from my face
Who was shielding the hearts of sin?
Your smile, my laughter, your presence and your calm demeanor
Somehow the calmness worries me,

But, I must do bear in mind that some roses bloom independently
and some struggles through the concrete to survive
this morning I am struggling with the thoughts of emptying my suitcase
Too many memories, too many smiles and most of them
Came from, you, I never wanted my vacation to end
But once again the journey to love is a journey to one’s self

Where do we stand, after the darkest hour’s commute
and the fall season arrives in my part of the world
without warning?

The black birds will stop singing by midsummer,
and our love will fade from view, low blow , low blow
to our  lonely hearts,
I am not too big to sit here and cry....
another step back  from happiness once more.

Last night

Last night wasn’t like any other night
I was like a tower of strength
I took hold of the rein and
mastered a very difficult task

I sigh as I watch you snore
I took a sip of red wine
felt very satisfy,
While, the lion slept
the pleasure was all mine

Humid August Morning

Packed in my mind lies, all betrayals of my past
It shows on my face like a ****** mask
Over the passing years nothing seems to change
Not even my wore out tattoos nicknames,
I seek answer; I search for peace,
  I am caged, I am seized
 With my innermost thoughts and convictions

What’s my purpose, which one of my petals is going to fall now?
Who’ going to step in and staged an intervention?
I am caged, I am seized, I am so loving ******.
Surrounded by happiness, laughter and some forgiveness
Once again, here I am taking another summer test.

  Open bars, aged faces, cold frosty Banks beers
An islander tradition nothing changes,
not even my tattoo nicknames, Bajan Yankee
Caribbean Queen and Meany heartbreaker,

However, when the laughter fades,
and the music stop in the most romantic setting
A black heart, a broken soul, makes old memories resurfaces;
I see so much, I heard so much and
I overthink so much about worldly things

How can I not go back to the land of the flying fish?
Or where the Bank beers are four for ten
Or where the rooster wakes us up at the crack of dawn,
where humble people just smiling
and saying hello makes a different.

The annoying mosquito buzzes under the protected nets
Till I reach for a can of repellant with anger and yelled who’s next!

I‘ve heard the annoying barks of the neighbor dogs
The unsettling morning news, but nothing as soothing
As watching a black bird singing in the apple trees.
Speaking to the heart of the humans souls:
Once again I am an Island Girl

*See how the nature trees, flowers, grass grow in silence
See the stars, the moon and the sun; we need to be able to touch souls

Confusion
Oh, for the love of the younger me
Torn between feelings for my teenager lovers
Protecting my heart from the lying *******
I ran from their clutches and I spread my wings

Somehow, one of them gets to follow me
On the devil playground call modern directory
Gazing into my life day after, day after day
making it seem like getting older make us restless and hopeless. .

Oh, for the love of the younger me
Torn between my feelings for my teenager lovers
Still running and protecting my heart from their lies
Those lying ******* from my youth

Meow power does exist.

Love is a mysterious thing poker face
Even though we tend to think of soul mates as a symbiotic union,
We have to be open-minded to all venues
As we all can recalled from failed romance,
that it was always the mindset
that trigger some strong emotion into the explosion
that separate the thing called love.

It’s have been more than thirty odd years since
He walked away and left me with deep tattoo tears,
Those tears never fades, but the pain remain the same
Love shouldn’t be a pawn in anyone’s game

Like a needle under my thin layer of skin,
I can see it crawling; it can see it poking,
teasing that draw me closer, and the teasing
that pushed me further away with the wind

Would I ever learn?  Would I ever stop looking for love?
When would my heart say to me, enough is enough?
Stop falling for their lies, get angry and take off something
Or violently break something into pieces, like a thief in the night

  Stop badgering my mind, stop targeting my heart
Because love doesn’t live here anymore… stop!!!!

Self-respect, self-endurance and self-confidence
Now it is my turn to walk away undefeated..


*Feed me the truth not your lies
don't tell me it's chocolate cookies
when it's almond cookies..
don't tell me it's over,
when it now in full bloom
don't tell me you love me
knowing that you belongs to another

words can be so simple just
feed me the truth not your lies.

The Candidates:
If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves

What have they said to us
That we haven’t already heard before
Can they bring America Back?
From the brink of disasters’

It’s best they stop trying so hard
To make see Russia from their house
The majority of American only sees colors

Green eggs and ham, green lawns, green acres,
Green, green, green, and more greener the dollars

Some people hear their own inner voices with great clearness.
And they live by what they hear.
Such people become crazy... or they become legend. Jim Harrison

As for me I usually clear my throat, and swallow deep,
While I listen to their speech rehearsal:

A little nod to Carl Sandburg

Blast through oh moon of summer!

Double Dutch with the cow who jump over you
The Dish Network Lies About Having 200 HD Channels
while driving us crazy with their summer repeats

However, shine bright on the young ones who hopscotch
Their way on the city pavement way passed they curfew:
While the old folks listen to their foul language and laughter from their bedroom windows

Shine bright on the young lovers walking hand in hand on the sandy beaches
Shine bright on the missing piece of jewelry they drop in the wet sand.
But allowed them to find it before their honey moon is over
It’s was wedding gift from the groom.

Shine on old tired moon of summer,
The elders was in bed before the sun went down,
The ****** slowly patrol the boardwalk with ice-cream in their hand
Waiting to be picked up like on garbage day

Shine on us old tired moon of summer tonight
The free outdoor concerts could bring together the weirdest crowd:
Shine on old tired moon of summer,
Prove us wrong; prove us right, because you still have that magical touch
Your love always shines through for lovers like me….

After every storm the sun will smile; for every problem there is a solution, and the soul's indefeasible duty is to be of good cheer.
— William R. Alger

Come warm your hands around me tonight
Let go of the cold restraint that dangle your heart
I have dreamt of this day,
I have long for this hour
Come warm yours hands,
Rebuild your smile, and rebuild the trust

Stand upright at the council meeting my Zula warrior, my king
Unleash the passion within, stop struggling with your feelings
instead, come and fumble with these long, longs chocolate strings

Come warm your hands on my body
And forget the flittering open fire of hatred within her eyes,
It's cold night on the tropical island,
however, it's lavender essential oil on my linens
there's chocolate ******* to be thread.
tasty pasties and edible ******,
it’s warm in my chambers,
its love in my heart,
there is action,
there is passion,
come take a deep look into my eyes
before you address the unsettling crowd
Your Queen would always be by your side.

Stand upright at the council meeting my Zulu warrior, my king
you were meant to rule .................

I suppose the iodine in the fish I
Just had for dinner was working fast on my brain
I kept thinking out loud:
They don’t truly believe that if they build a snow man
In the middle of July:  and expect its foundation is going to hold

  Do they strongly believe
That law enforcement is ever going to change
Because of a sign that read “Black life matters”
What matter most is to save ourselves?
From unnecessary target practice
Last but not lest: Next to fire, straw isn't good. (Don't tempt the devil.)

The same ones who's afraid of
Of the black man is also afraid of poetry
And why are they afraid of poetry?

One might say because of the sound.
They are afraid of the black race,
Who God has blessed let no man curse
One might wonder why: Oh my God, Why?
I definitely think it because of the sounds.
The whispering sound of the wind,
the sound of tortures soul being dragged off into the night
chain, being dragged, video cameras flashing and recording ,

The unsettled soul of their ancestors wicked deals haunts them daily.
The loud bewitching sound of the African drums that echo in their mind,
The tainted blood of the guilty flows in their veins,

However, when would it stop?
When would their accepted that
Guilt, shame and embarrassment are universal emotions
that are among the most painful of human experiences one could ever endure

That guilt travel thought-out history, the black race will rise again
Another man down!
Another input for the history books.
Another march on Washington DC
Certain sounds scares us............

I am not ready  to face this man
Who broke my heart into squares?
I am not ready as yet to look him full in his lying eyes
And asked him why did he made my eyes overflow
I am not ready to asked him if he remembers
  the birth of our child, the signal from the moon,
the last Friday night of fish and chips,
I Wailing and speaking in tongues,
being strip down to my waist
I was encourage by him to be strong
But instead I held on to his left hand for strength and support..

That trauma was only for a very short period,
My broken hearts will never heal,
My soul long for answers,
However, to reshape my heart again take courage, but to

* Forgive, sounds good
Forget, I’m not sure I could
They say time heals everything
But I’m still waiting…*

Just before he said “How are you Are you okay?
To slam the door in the viper face once again is a step to healing.

To be teased, to be pleasing, to be smiling, or yet to cry
To take notice, after an ecstasy of rage
It understands you, it understands me: Our hearts
Breakfast for two in the ****

Muscles tighten without the pain,
hearing the wishes of our inner self
Pitter, patter on the window pane
to be teased, to be pleasing, to be smiling, or yet to cry
fulfillment, enjoyment, pleasurable moments
Breakfast for two in the ****,
What I wouldn’t give for such a dream

When I close my eyes,
I can picture myself being ****
I wrote down my ideas on my naked body
not the perfect curves, for an outstanding silhouette?
but my body, my canvas,
I created this literary masterpiece:
a little something for you and a little something for me,

I scribble a stanza or two on my chest,
and I watch as my body heat melt the words away
without allowing a poem to be created

My ****** tattoos open up like rose from the poem
Rose is a rose is a rose is a rose one from Gertrude Stein famous line.

Outline my words with admiration,
until my mind accept the connection
My body, my canvas, my visionary centerpiece, my satisfaction,
Like sand through an hour glass,
I have created this body of poetry.

A treacherous heart set its mark

My beautiful lips you long to kiss
became the daffodils in springtime
As it slowly, unfolded by the sound of his Tenor voice.
I remember him, but I never remember his ****** touch

All poets are not romantic, but our poems can
creates a romantic setting, allowing us to see and feel
the words in each line.

A famous writer once wrote.
Have a heart that never hardens,
and a temper that never tires,
and a touch that never hurts.”—Charles Dickens

The mind, body and soul havoc the hearts
into believing that our love is worth fighting for
my caramel exposed **** reveal my darkest secret
my ****** quest was answered.

"while nibbling my ear he whisper my name
the sound of his voice, command my heart to accept love
or was it was the feedback from those dilated eyes?

the thoughts of his hand caressing my inner thigh
his hot balsam breath, working the curve of my neck
breathing life into the foreplay: my imagination of his
tranquilizing earthy cologne made me sigh with relief;
that set me drunk with desire, with the deep power of joy

We cannot quench the thirst without our vision, our heart, our life,
Or our passion, restoring our relationship wouldn’t be answered

I just woke up and it dawn upon me, "I am single.!
however my energy is filled with loving thoughts from my past.
or is it misrepresented of truth?

Even in our dreams, but nowhere else,
imagine that my love

We seem to have landed on cloud nine:
Somehow we awoke in goose down feathers
Our sweaty bodies were drape
with 1000 thread Egyptian cotton sheet
Our ******* wasn’t unique,
our passion came off like a dangerous religion
Sneaky, sneaky, but always ostentatious to the facts like
Ripley's Believe It or Not

A New beginning, a new chapter a new natural high
What is love? We must never mistake it for ****** favors
*** we see it, we hear about it we discuss it behind closed doors
Give us your blessing, blessed our puppy love
Moreover please forgive or transgression.
A New beginning, a new chapter...a natural high
~~~

I became your favorite obsession
I wondered if my last hour had come.
I am not alive until you called,
In an hour or two my cell phone becomes as hot as I am.
Take me, break me, I can’t be obedient,

I want to feel whole again…
without looking over my shoulder.
Oh my wounded and troubled heart
My soul is in deep anguish,
Without this forceful conquest

Within my eyes, jealousy wedge deep
Because of my self-critical thoughts,
My early rejections, my feeling, thoughts and action:

Our grandmother’s words came to be fulfilled
“An old fashion botheration,
   My indulgence from my past,
This led to an old fashion romance,
That wasn’t resolved then or now.

Take this kiss from my lip
And in return take off your glasses
and let me see your weary eyes
You are not wrong, my jealousy is a disease

If life had be kinder to us,
I would have been yours,
And you would have been mine.
I would have been the slave to you,

I stood by the window, and stare down at couples walking by
holding hands and I thought about them and I think about us:
Making further plans and I waved my hand to them
and smile because love is a lie.

heart of darkness encounter of lies
I have paid my dues, I settled my tithes.

How can I tell my heart to stop loving him?
I became his favorite obsession, now he’s mine
Take me, break me, I can’t be obedient,
I want to feel whole again, my friend

My wounded and troubled heart,
My soul is in deep anguish,
without this forceful conquest
So why do I weep in my sleep?

My God of refuge, what was the hidden truth?
I played with fire, and now I am burnt.

My soul has been ****** dry,
due to the rising body temperature,
This drove me to speak in tongues

I close my eyes and I drift deep into a bed of jelly
as my heart called out your name,
My body became lifeless
and we become one with our feelings.

The screen maximized  and there you were
waiting patiently for me
and for the first time I really heard you speak my name.
  You lighten up the screen, you transcend.
I was captivated by your mysterious looks.

Something felt sweet and innocent,
was it your shyness..
Or was it in my private thoughts?

As we tease each other:
I saw fears within your eyes.
With the breakthrough,
you saw the joy within mine
For true love is passionate love that never fades:

Never again would we hide our feelings,
or made to feel abashed of what was meant to be.
Our eyes stare into the camera, our souls reconnected:

You made me feel whole again, when we talk of love
How many times since our reunion have we seen the blueness of the sky?
the lovely smell of the blooming roses from miles away
These forbidden ****** desires of a platonic love affair pressing
deep into the core of my heart.

Not free to be in each other’s arms, but brave enough to
Follow our hearts: we’ve set the bar high
Now we must reach for the star..

Whilst I was walking down the street this morning
I tried to be polite and inconspicuous to a passing stranger

He stares directly into my eyes;
My brown eyes speak louder than my husky voice
without the spoken words or improvisation.

What was he looking for?
Did he like what he saw?

The pain, shame or a sense of connection
Love, is nowhere to be found in my eyes,

It's ruthless, it deems, it disappoints
By now we all know the stories about the pain
Of lost-love,

It begins with a smile
A kiss a warm embrace,
The tears and fears during the last years
of something that was once so beautiful..

Did he love the raven in my eyes?
Sorry stranger! ,
I played the game of love and lost
I paid my tithes, sorry stranger!

Caw, caw, caw!
Did the stranger love the looks of the raven in my eyes?

His hair is short and white
Twilight years of what counseling and wisdom brings
We all must cross over;
However, why must we accept the aging process?

Scented with coconut oil, his hair shines
Brighter under the Caribbean sunrise
I wish for him to texturizes it,  
Without losing his identity, without damaging
The roots of the follicles succulent extremity

Nervously, he runs his fingers through the ends
Making it seems like  if everything is alright.
For me, I long to see his youth again
The Afro, the look, the seventy trends;
Someone, up North love and adore her friend

I will never forget our date
Under the cool evening sun that led
to a wonderful enchanting night
Nerve pain and sweaty palms
We smile throughout the whole ordeal like champs

The camera capture a moment of truth near the fountain
while the sound of the water whispered our names
not Romeo or Juliet but Rommel and Annie

  Tense moments, unanswered questions throughout the meal
somehow our smiles, determine the rhythm
Of our heart beats, but our strong faith saves us
From naughty thoughts, enough to create a memorable kiss
We never set out to want each other like wild cats
Little did we realize we had the key to each other heart?

True love is so rare; I am still searching for it.
Even though lovely things like us had to
endure years of unhappiness
we must bear in mind that Jesus he too also
Endure one side to get to the other

All signs were there, yet we failed to see them

Today we are playing it safe and crossing only one signal,
Love hurts when we settle for less than the best.
I am always embracing the dark side of my creativity:
I am always searching for ways to add to the love without the hurt.

Second hand love:
Have I come this far to be a second hand love?
where is my rose, where is my morning smile,
where is my goodnight kiss and
where is my number one guy.

After, I said goodbye: to my yesterday tears
The sun shifted away from the lemon trees
In requital of my leaving my yesterday behind
Was it a sign, was it my imagination?

I remember their eyes, I remember the tears
I remember their touch,  I remember their
Style, Diction, Tone, and Voice  
which never faded from my mind

I love you, I love you, I love them
and I knew I loved their shameless plug

However, my shameless heart,
and baring soul wanted more,
but never to be their soul mates,
I wanted to be free,
I wanted the other side of fear,
I wanted the other side of fear to rise up with me.

For the wonderful ladies, who loved them for me?
Keep on loving them,
you need them more than I do………

There is no grass left for them

There is no beginning to an end of the trolls
It’s today, it’s this morning, and it was also yesterday
They were putting the poet’s poems into the earth
Our creative work, curled like sour milk.

I don't understand what the troll motivation was
For crushing our dreams deep into the ground;
Without giving us the plus and minus grades,

Frederick Herzberg came to me in a dream
and whispered these words:
Satisfaction and motivation
One remark he made before he vanishes from my dream
He asked me if I knew how to get rid of sour milk smell?

*** within marriage is pleasurable,
even, if he had six wives,
so why was Henry VIII displeased?

Madness!!

It’s the little things we pondered the most
When hitting the ceiling
But we tried it in silence
Allowing the good times to simmer

You only watch the news to find out
Where the con artist stands,
He opens his mouth and nonsense comes out

And whether it matter to us or not;
We have to make sure that the Philanthropist
Doesn’t make it to the white house
Mr. Obama said that he has faith in the American people
Do you have faith in yourself?
or the mockingbird on the platform?

The Heart of the Woman
Whose heart has been broken a
thousand and one times
pain of heartaches, dream destroyed

She remembers, he forgets
the heart became so,
dark as the African night sky
She was scare of the dark,
she was afraid to love again.

Suddenly, like a flower the heart slowly unfold like a rose.
The heart of the woman loves again.

She already knew what she wanted
he kept insisting that’s work, work
She was so hot, hot; he was so cold,

Her hot flashes, verses his cold feet
Bring on the friction, or the vapor rub
Some way or another, she was getting some

Forget about the work, work, and work
Not fishing for compliments: she hints,
Just some good old fashioned comfort and enjoyment

During the fidgety February morning,
While money was on his mind
his baby’s hands was under the sheet,
with that timely rhythmic breathing of a
Metronomic beat, leading up to their ****** healing
Without the thought of work, work, work


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oiGHY6q-snI#t=12

Like whisky to a newbie
She said *** with her is so amazing,
Should her lovers take her words for granted?
  to the echo chamber, an invitation of uncertainty awaits
on the others side of love.

Just like any property a ****** is still a risky investment
Just like any investment could be,  
Another extremely shameless plug
As she pumps up the volume,
Like a female rebel on the run from the law

They love everything about this Island beauty
Like whisky to a newbie, her poetic euphoric vibes
  take them higher and higher, as her fans dance the night away

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jgf_I9vepDo

My poems travel far
It doesn’t need a visa
Or a green card to enter the heart of many
It doesn’t need your permission,
to make others smiles
My poems will always be foreign to you

Translated in the gift of tongues,
My poems owes you nothing,
But it promises you more,
Let my travelling poems be my gift to you;

With a trendy feel of a human touch
in which the world need now.
Free *****, but let my poems travel

Once again lonely winter days and frigid nights
Hibernation or desperation flutter one’s mind
Oh how we long for those summer day, as we
Basked in the warmth of the sun rays,
Pink umbrella glasses of Pinna Coladas or
Coconut-flavored Malibu ***

Now it's what will be will be
Quod erit, erit!

The last bikini tan lines of summer fade like autumn leave
But here today it still lingered in one’s mind
It was a summer of secrets or was it too much exposure to the sun?

The gleaming sand upon the Caribbean shores
Summer!  Oh summer where are you?
Oh summer, oh summer where you,
Please slapdash with your misty blue skies

With a little Nod to Michael R. Burch

Let me give him all the respect he deserve
for his yearly contribution
my heart is now content

Let me give him a Cuban cigar
for my feet stay warm
Without my fluffy socks

Let me give him my favorite pillow
for my head  laid on a patch of hair chest
a warm embrace

Let the warm of his body
Outlast this New York weather
Intervals

Let me give him a guitar
for all sentimental reason
a joy within my heart

Let me give him the keys to my car
for public transportation is costly
  Money is nothing

Let me burn lavender candles
Its lighten the mood
Less worried

the world seem a brighter place
last night
what a lovely Valentine’s eve.
I didn't get to sleep at all.

The Pain of Being in Love
With Someone You Can Never Be With.

You might think you are not thinking, but you are.
Lonely nights, wishful days thinking and planning,
Of how your life should have been,

There are two kinds of pain, but there are three kinds
of lovers, pain, insanity and
there is love in you waiting to give…
Suddenly you think of them as one
Falling in love, feeling the pain, and going insane...

Love is a very painful, insanity is rare
However, True love is a choice,
Lovers' festival is for true lovers,
Pain, Love, And Insanity of Red heart’s day

Behind each smile is a silent frown
Behind each door is a chair turn upside down
Behind each super bowl history,
there were losers, winners, and yes

There were some wonderful entertainment,
Beyoncé and Lady Gaga,
the mighty twins and you....

Now back at the table of poetry,
there is the Bacchanal throw-out…
the mighty twin and you....

Louder than a **** in a silent room
louder than an thunder roll
louder than a deaf mute
or a woman during labor
louder than cows on the pasture
or a wailing of a baby's cry
louder than a siren on a police cruiser
Louder than a fireman truck racing to a fire
louder than a carpenter who accidental nail his finger to the floor
louder than a chairman at a board meeting
as he try to get the crowd to come to order
louder than an angry mob in Washington after the Federal building shut down
louder than a preacher without the microphone
louder than I on grandparent's day
that's how loud the bigots barks

69
ways to please your lover
He takes the nine,
and you take the six positons
Checkmating! or checkmate

Kindness in words creates confidence. Kindness in thinking creates profoundness. Kindness in giving creates love.  **
— Lao Tzu

the  last   bus  has  left  
another four hours to wait
the passengers sigh

I remember the exact moment
when I locked my heart,
I heard the sweet melody
once again in my favorite songs
I felt my skin tightening against
the harshness of the world
And it felt so great, so delightful
no more pain, no more tears,

I never want to conquered love;
I never wanted to feel trapped
I just want to live; I just wanted to be free
I took my life back, and I slowly regain my sanity
I cast out those demons, and then I wrote a poem,
About the demons, love, and lost and my wildest dream

I am now sleeping in a dream of summer weather
As I awake to a wonderful good morning phrases
A phrase, I had lost so long ago,

The caroling birds outside my window
What a beautiful sight?
What a beautiful morning

Mine Salutations in the morning are now like vitamins
Good morning, good morning, good morning strangers
Take these vitamins with you folks, remember this poem
And do remember me.

On snowy night I would smile upon the Gods
I asked them if there’s a heaven for the rich man
And what is in store for the poor man
who shivered in the open air, from the cold.

Would the rich man's golden casket make a different?
Would his fortune and fame entitled them
To be seated at the council meetings?

He texted me and said,
Time will tell… time will tell,
There is only one river, one sea,
There is only one gate, and the only exit is down**,

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,
obsession 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.
Because, they saw the up and down to natural disaster,
the tricks of trade in the political world of politics

Even if we do comes across a little harmony in love,
Because, out of clutter, find simplicity, said Albert Einstein.

P.S

We are all equal in the fact that we are all different. We are all the same in the fact that we will never be the same. We are united by the reality that all colors and all cultures are distinct & individual. We are harmonious in the reality that we are all held to this earth by the same gravity. We don't share blood, but we share the air that keeps us alive. I will not blind myself and say that my black brother is not different from me. I will not blind myself and say that my brown sister is not different from me. But my black brother is he as much as I am me. But my brown sister is she as much as I am me.” *
― C. JoyBell C.