My poems in recent years has become,
The distance calculators: with its up and down
No one can stop them at the boarders, or
Seize their nouns or pronouns,

They can’t or will not be subject your isolation,
because of the singular/plural and tense disagreements.
It doesn’t need a visa or a green card to enter
the hearts of many poetic minds

They believe in us: we believe in them:
It doesn’t need your permission to make others smiles
My poems would always be foreign to you,
Like my way of eating a soft mango:  
with just a little opening at the top:
Because of the poems autarky: its freedom will prevails throughout  cyberspace:

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 allow my poems to travel far
Without your inputs:
Those who would look a gift horse in the mouth do not deserve the gift. Quote Brian M

Love yourself, accept yourself, forgive yourself and be good to yourself, because without you the rest of us are without a source of many wonderful thing: Quote

love yourself, then my poems, appreciated them for what they are,
because what this world need now, is love, sweet love,
not  hate, free ***** but let my poem travel.

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

Even in her late forty it could happen
the joy of her life, the blessing she have been waiting for
She woke up with hope,
the world seem much different
the soft lullabies sweetened her soul:

Dreft is as gentle as a summer breeze,
circle the misty air
even this late her beauty shines,
yesterday tears dry on their own
Keisha breastfeed her baby…

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:

Laugh, and the world laughs with you
Weep and you weep alone
.
He walked into a crowded room and fires his weapons
While humility is considered strength, humiliation is hurtful
ego stands down. Shame is private, humiliation is public:*
There was only one thing left for him to do, and you know what
For the earth will be a better place, without so many psychopaths

The government is on the warpath, the vets are mentally ill
Left wing, right wing, the mental effects of war continues
day after day , after day.
Their transition from battle to home becomes an internal struggle.
There are no winners, only the good die young

I Hear America sniveling
A nod to Walt Whitman,

I hear America sniveling, life of hardships
Those are the nurse’s aide, each sniveling
looking tired and worn out
Petrified of being on the morning shift
The Porter sniveling as he drags
the fifthly mop down the corridor
The “Don’t walk signs.
Which everyone seems to ignore

The cooks crying as he wakes up early searching for dietary old ladle
Just to meet the breakfast rush, with sleep still in his eyes: his life seem to be a lie

The doorman sniveling as the workers rush through the doors
The looks on their faces, his hands stay closer to the company Tasers
The foreigner taxi cabs drivers speed a headed of each other for two dollars ride
As they tries their best to form a complete sentence..
Knowingly, that his spoken words is grammatically incorrect

The babies sniveling as they mother drop them off at the sitters,
  Poor babies wish they could stay all day in their mother’s arm
The poor man sniveling, can be heard through the land, America
The rich man broad smiles as he killed another elephant for their ivory
Takes images proclaiming victory

The sadness of the hardest workers, or the elderly folks in pain
Shows an undivided world of tough hardships and poor leaderships
Each one to his or her own self, like homeless man Robert in the rain
We wakes up each day under the same sun, the same cruelty and injustice
the testing nuclear weapons in the atmosphere  since 1945 and just recently another test
And we continues this repeat, and the more we feel and see or smile turn into frowns
I heard America sniveling:

*Even in hardship, God’s goodness prevails.” E
― Todd Stocker,

My sister as a child and my sister as adult
we are not the comparison and contrast kind of people
Her outlook on life and my lifestyle never clicks
I said more sugar
She wants less, I add more nutmeg,
She adds more cloves,
I am hot; I stood there and watch her shivering

She love Drew and Jonathan Scott from HGTV's
I love Chip and Joanna Barnes the stars of Fixer Upper
I am the caramel base; she is the creamy yellow coated

I have lived so long, with loneliness, it became a part of my family tree
I love the peace and quiet,
I detest the invasion of my personal space.

Under my white tray roofing, I accepted my lifestyle,
But to have my fluffy rug under my toes,
On a cold winter morning is a great start to my day.
Oh, how, I breathed a sigh of relief,
holding on to my cold glass of spiked eggnog

What is freedom, to breathe, to talk, and to travel?
Oh how we took for granted those past years:

What is freedom summer, here in America?
Where we can still purchase a bottle of cold coke cola for a dollar
But wouldn’t be able to sit on the stoop with friends
Just sipping, and chatting away.

Thinking of a time in history when

Freedom summer was a nonviolent effort by
civil rights activists to
integrate Mississippi's segregated
political, system during 1964.

A poet who knows her history is exceptional
Poets words can sometimes comes off as gossip column

What is freedom?

In 2020 without the interference of
Other countries, city or states…. or the faces of
heart breaking stories of missing persons….
Who took a stroll or jog through the wrong street
And end up in the news while they were
trespassing in Karen’s neighborhood

What is freedom:  not to be cage,
Not to be muffled and not to be Taser by the police:
What is freedom summer of 2020 in New York City.


Limited!
Complicated!

I am the poet whose work, others thought
Was useless, So, I did just once
What they say I couldn’t do
I got creative, just to get their attention
Somehow, motivation and meditation moves me

But to blend all the Kool-Aid flavors together seems so unreal
So instead, I focus on the small trees amongst the tall trees
Canst thou prophesy, thou little tree,
What the glory of the boughs shall be

I woke up this morning, the other, they stay in bed
I breathe life into this experimental poem, while they
They lay there like a tombstone,
you might get where I am going with this image

When the poet writes, his audience connects with him
The others, they lay there like a tombstone.
my poetry know no solitude, my podium; my stadium, my voice
I can be free in the world--free to speak even when my words are not received

O yes, you are very naive
I can see that:
Out there in your own little world
Darken by the sunray
Wearing those ridiculous glasses
Upside down:

Sleeping with the liar looking forgiveness
O yes, you’re your father son
But do not think you will be loved again
By the woman and her son
And what maybe, might not be
I know the pattern.

Your nerves will be shattered by torture
For all those good times,
More lonely night to come
She was just as common as the others
When bitterness poison your marriage
They is no turning back
JACK...




.

I heard of this poem that’s circling the universe
It’s known to be trending faster than the speed of light
With words of encouragements and positive feedback
each verse represents life, hope , truth and hope.

Its poetic use of words is organic, it unblock
release and rejuvenate your mind, body and spirit
That poem was the last thing you remember
Leaving you with a clutter-free peaceful mind

Who?  Why?  How?  What!



*Sunna Shelley Wong said, “At every moment in a life or in a poem, the formal choice is between answering to that which is alive, or attempting to enslave it.”


Ink runs from the corners of my mouth.
There is no happiness like mine.
I have been eating poetry.

From "Eating Poetry

All those memories will be lost in time
Remembering, how the *** used to be
The pain, the games, and now it’s the shame
of unresponsive low libido , rerouting all lanes
Replaced, by the latest muscle relievers

The legs refused to go beyond the sixty degree angle
to stretch the inner thigh muscles

They crack their back, just by ripping the covering off the condoms
While their toes curves due to the deficiency of vitamins B12

Remembering how the *** used to be, wild, wild and carefree
Mobility without the Immobility
can ruin one’s ****** activities

Master bedroom

It would have been nice
If it could live up to its name
Knowingly, the master couldn’t
Even handle his business in any room
Why called it the master bedroom,
The master haven't mastered any role in any room
until his compassionate flower,  the ladywith a heart of an angel,
Made a deal for the people, , as history was told
Her love for the oppressed citizens of Coventry would never be forgotten:
A Yellow Lily not to be reckon with:
Lady Godiva the people's choice

Forgotten ***

I felt caged in by lust and desire
Suddenly, this famous quote came to mind

In the moment when I truly understand my enemy, understand him well enough to defeat him, then in that very moment I also love him. I think it’s impossible to really understand somebody, what they want, what they believe, and not love them the way they love themselves, and then, in that very moment when I love them.... I destroy them.” ― Orson Scott Card,

I am tired of being nice; I want to be honest,
I want to say to him, you ******* simpleton,
It wasn’t about the ***; it wasn’t about the love,
If she doesn’t want him after all those years,
Why does he think I would want him now?
he can’t even love himself, long enough
Without, thinking about what is driving him insane
She wins again,
She destroys the man within

I had plenty to say. But you just wouldn't listen. ..  so I farted  and that got your attention..anything to clear the air. ..
Between us..

Back in time during some tense moment,
of weakness causes a state -of Confusion
or was it  an era of delusion in my poetic mind?
to my greatest surprise, this became a series
  of my confessional poetry.

Aching for someone to fill a void
A love that couldn’t be granted
Without the repercussion of the change.....

Why have I chosen?
Such a man of low caliber
To fulfill my wildest fantasies

A man who knows
Not what he wants
Who never delivered those timely sigh
Or made the almighty seem
Less powerful than him

Oh how long have I waited to reach?
That high pitch of satisfaction
To hear the sound of
“Oh God, oh my God
Without a choir chorale

My bed, his cave,
No waiver, the thrill is gone
A wish not granted
A void yet to be filled

The secret of love is seeking variety in your life together, and never letting routine chores dull the melody of your romance.. conduct your business with a clear mind

Beauty walks this world. It ages everything**
I love them according to the seasons
Let’s start with the winter scene  
It reminds me of June bridal dresses
Woven into the likeness of winter themes
Capturing Impureness without stresses’

The colors of springs, the beginning of testing,
  The attitude of one’s happiness that lies ahead for bracing sea breeze
The mindset of the summer beauty :shine through summer madness:

as we slowly move into the fall months
We tend to have spiritual thoughts about the madness of summer
The spring will dwindle, as the windy days come
Embrace the beauty of remaining days of summer

The beauty will be bottle in our hearts and mind for ever
Beauty walks this world, it ages like any another thing

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.

At the cheffette’s restaurant table down the harbor road.
Your nervous eyes said you love me,
Napkin holders and the salt and pepper jars,
Stood between us: Two people on a date.
St. Thomas and Christchurch.

Nervous sweat and sweaty palms—
So young, so unknowing, so innocent,
Blue happily but nervously times
Grueling stomachs, Emotional changes,
always lead to peer pressure

What a hell of an evening, under the other‘s gaze,
You remember the important events in my life,
I come to accept the sensitive side of yours

Your slender build: my blue bellbottom fitted jean
Curious as George in an animated scene
Your eyes was wider than any taskbar

You couldn’t make it through a first dinner date
I gobbled down my food with a glass of fruit drink
Easing my hunger and nervousness tension:

Of times so memorable, yet gone with the wind
Like platform shoes, and the disco satin jeans
All remove from our closets, like the baggage in our lives
Leaving tainted memories and nasty scars:
Here we are today, still eating at different tables.

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

Faces in the Street

So many faces, so many people
moving like boxes on an assembly line
I wonder if they ever think of the time

There always that one guy who always
Seem to be fidgeting with his cell phone,
With that killer tone of his voice
“***** aye better have my money today”
With that bad ****** expression attitude,

There is always a lesson to be learned,
a story to be told, from the feeling of a poet.
His eyes became the camera zooming from left to right
trying not to fixated on his subject,

So many faces, so many people, and there I was
Thinking of Robin Williams

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

The sizzling sound of the radiator
Waked me up too soon
The cold breeze nibbles at my feet
like the unwanted houseguest

The sunlight come peekaboo to soon,
leaving the darkness behind yesterday sun
The New York cold weather frets me

The Island sunshine, calls out my name
Lying there with my compatriots
The cold and the non-sunshine

I have a long day ahead of me
I refused to be self-pity

Would I ever love again?
Would I ever walk hand in hand in the
Snow or the frigid rain
Would I ever smile again?
with you  in the snowy weather?
Or embrace the summer heat
Without wondering: Why
If I would ever love again?

Love is an unpredictable emotion
Love is a variety of different feelings,

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**,

Multiples nightmares in one night
I tumble out of bed and stumble to the kitchen
and there it was an empty dish
a ***** fork, pie crumbs everywhere:
and flat-out on the couch,
your snoring mouth hanging slack;
my last piece of pie, my last piece of pie

In an Instant does more than just re-tell...
Freddy Krueger, theme sound played around in my head

We both were on our sides,
  I threw the top of my leg over his hip.
suddenly, poetry comes alive
what an amazing stand-up routine:

*** , love and poetry are powerful things.
due to the love of the art,
Some adjectives do come after the verbs.
sigh!

I opened the back door toward the two o’clock sun
The day was winding down; the trees were blowing in the wind:
Long row of school buses: waiting for dismissal

I wish that he was here with me: Each and every day
Hangouts video chat is good and it’s bad: why must I rate them call?
Sometimes, I just don’t get this build in operator at all

I can feel your presence; I could sense your pain
A mile across the ocean: until we link up again

What do we have beside the modern gadgets: lots of emptiness?
Within our heart we search for the right song:  a soothing melody
of love and relaxation. Inner peace we gladly seek
Happiness will follow: before I cry myself to sleep

These same brown eyes will smile again in the morning
Just for you to see, just like all my thoughts
Some, naughty and some nice

I am so filled with happiness: I am so enticed by lust
I shall slowly close my Samsung I pad: and think of
Love in paradise of summer 2016,

Fear the poets that wielded great power with their pens.

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

Boast, not thyself of tomorrow
For thou knows not a day may bring forth.
I am looking for a second love
Because my first love he

Never fulfilled my wildest fantasies
Where no wood is, there the fire goes out.
So where there is no talebearer, the strife ceases

So can you blame me, for looking for my second love?
Ointment and perfume rejoice the heart
A warm hand can smooth a broken wing.
So where was my first love hands

A rose
He seldom bring me flowers
But once a year a dozen red roses
For each month he misses
~
He never smiles,
unless it was a touch down
I always made him a cup of herbal tea
whenever, he was in town

However, I always smile without a reason
I asked him one or two lumps
I really miss the old chum
He doesn’t bring me flowers anymore

I will not follow in the paths of day anymore
back when our thoughts  were not entirely intact,
we must not make the same mistake we made last year.

The hours were long, our wages were small
Somehow, we need and wants were getting greater
Like mines, I wanted more boxes of lobster tails from Maine
But instead I purchase bags of rotten potatoes from the local grocery stores
Did the customers get the most nutrition out of Idaho Potatoes?
Hell no!

I had to make the connection with the dots to connect to the future
It wasn’t an overlooked of the payroll mistakes
It was the greed of the political investors,
But those classes of people, unions, lawyers, and businessmen
Those ******* laboring class of upper people rob us.

Time has passed and hearts were broken
So many innocent lives were taken away from us.
Either by drowning in the rough sea or they got hit by the city buses

They tear us down on every side till  we were numb
They uproot our hope like a tree
Some of us fought with our body to rise,
But encounters dark passages on the rough seas
We shall not follow on the path of the day anymore
A new year, a new beginning, a fresh wipe, a clean slate

The morning is cold, the sun is shining
my curtains stuck to the window frame
A blind man walks alone in the cold on a New York street
It seems as uneasy,
as the scattered flurries become breezy.

The cars honk for no reason:
A little Morning fog, then blustery winds whistles
Like the Sea Island hurricane, outside my window pane
  blind men walk alone in the cold on a New York street

I saw a squirrel jumped on top of the neighbor’s fence:
Running along the top, in search of its hidden den
What a lovely view from my second floor window
Its morning the sun is shining, cold breeze came
down from the mountains so cold
While the earth is constantly slowing down

Participating businesses pulled out all
the stops to attract passersby  around this town
A blind man walks alone in the cold on a New York street.
running errands

Dreams


My Foggy images, became the joy of contentment
This toy with me in my dreams

And lead me to false hope of being happy
my pulses race fast, as I wish for it to be true

Even in the my foggy dream the scam builds
Oh, wicked dream, why tease me so,
They say that dream is like a river, and I can’t swim

Either upstream or downstream: no wonder I never win
Ends this nightmare, or put your hands on my weak heart

Morning sun, or bathroom breaks,
just closed down this lucidity overpowering rush

Let this, be my last thousand wistfulness of testing.
My dream choose me, I didn’t choose them!
A briefcase filled with one hundred dollars bills.

Should we have love in silence?
Or should we have love only from the heart?
Should we have let the past stay in the past?
Or should our stories should have never been told

The past is never where you think you left it.”
Quote ― Katherine Anne Porter

Somehow we just had to sin by silence
And mourn the death of a friendship

Life is not lost by dying; life is lost minute by minute,
day by dragging day, in all the thousand small uncaring ways.”
― Stephen Vincent Benét

Should we have love in silence, or should we have love each other
from the heart: we had the courage to stand up , we had the strength to
walk away from our abusive relationships:
Somehow we never learned because of blinded love and love affairs

The mastered mind of the satanic deception
Satan greatest commodity for most human weaknesses.
*** sells! it destroy it distributes ,
a high volume of deception and wickedness
Where the gateway of strength emerges freely
as the soul of men unfold tremendously.

Literally and figuratively correct,
its label sensuality and prngr*phy
of the billion dollars *** industries:
A non-replaceable piece of the humans dignity
this humiliation of the world cast a gloom:
God never intended for it to be this way:

lust is selfish, an emotional force for some to endure:
Meaningful *** is a better option
if we can find it here on earth

From the invasion of the animal kingdom
to the big screen of Hollywood,
***, lies, and video tapes sells , it promotes:
Take back our strength of the self,
from the craves of the satanic passion and desires
It would one day end forever,
what have we contribute to this world?

Lust is selfish, an emotional force
Love is a better option!
when you look for the answer
the answer is yours
and yours alone!

I glanced around and watch the faces
Of the tired old souls lining the corridors
from sun up to sundown:

I adhere to the flashing lights,
their abusive behavior: triggered by a crave
a waiting room filled with junkies

Then my thought turned to Salvador Dali
with pondering thoughts
how would he paint such emotions
" Moments of madness"

when my life seem so empty”
and there’s no place to go
I knock on the rooms and curative their pain
Just to hear them say
“Thank you Nurse L.

To take him at his words
or to walk out of his life
after all, I promise to love honor and obey
he, promised to love, honor and cherish
to watch him lying there on the worn out couch
left hand on the remote, and right hand down his crotch
When, I flash to wedding day rewind
I knew, I had lost my ******* mind.
My God, two-hundred-dollars bottle of wine