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

A little nod to
Edgar Guest

When you’re up against a bully
Meet them face to face
Lift your chin and set your shoulders,
Plant your feet and give them a taste

Never panic or hesitated: aim toward the lower waist
If you fall to the ground, don’t be discourage
It’s just a stumble, its just the adrenaline rush
but never let it weaken you

See it through!
Forget all those stars that circle around you

The Bigger the Ego, the Stronger the Anger
Kick his *** until he/she does the tango
If the worst is going to happened
Let it be Lose or win:
See it through! My friend
it’s birthing time again

Lift your chin and set your shoulder
Get up and plant your feet and make a fist
Kick that bully ***, Feel your inner strength.

Think of Joe Frasier, Ali and Foreman impeccable timing and their knock outs drops:
only a wise poet like me can only wish you the best of luck

When a poem isn’t a poem?
When the contents remain in my journals
Next to my lastest book 50 Shades of Grey
Unread, untouched, in need of a good editor my anthology

Each page form an ear, each smudge!
Weaken a page, chilling and aging
Egging not to be published

One small scented four leaf clover
Developed a teak of grease between a page

These are my stories
Of confession and addictions

Dead birds smothered in gravy
Dead men who never said I am sorry
Ladies who worried about their inner strength”
With each title; with each unbridled/biblical tones
My penmanship, your hidden poems

Through strength I brought forth in my journals
Hidden!  Suffocated! an anthology

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

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.

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!

Fear the poets that wielded great power with their pens.

****
scars all
the victims
sweet revenge
attacker castrated: open wound bleeds

You came too soon
and the moon wasn't even close to being full.
All I heard was the sound of your zipper
Gliding down
What a loser!

I heard a moan and groan
and it was all over.
Practice makes perfect babes
Just remember
a full body warm up
will achieve a  peak performance

My past is in my attaché case protected by number codes
Under my favorite vanity table,
where the dust build up into shapely forms
I want to lift the veil and open the case. But
this wave  of sadness always comes over me.

It’s always asking of me to forgive and to forgets,
Let bygones, be bygones, and
move on to more important things
At the end of each year,
I smile because my heart gets stronger
by mid-June, I sometimes take a peek,
at the contents, and I move on
I gave a little and I take a little,
but as you know that the story of love

Sometimes, I fantasize about a time travel
Sometimes, I just want to self-correct my mistakes
With one match stick, ka-boom!

To corners the truth isn’t always easy.
You never find yourself until you face the truth.
said Pearl Bailey
My past is in my attaché case protected by a hidden code.

I did not mean to write about death on a Sunday morn
He said that he didn’t mean to dial my number at 6 am
this awoke me from my dream
I was dreaming of being in California
Waiting to board a bus that was leaving at 2 pm
It was headed to New York City:

Poems can be amazing topic to ease the pressure of the day
Recalling an odd glimpse of a dream can be so puzzling
The dearly departed is never going to come back to us: unless
They are a part of a soap opera story line:
Somehow this mortal man ought to go and joined them

I wish that ***** would have called someone from the grave
And woke them up instead of me:

I just saw a not so love president in a recent photo
Standing alongside his daughter on graduation day
He too, look like he wish someone, hadn’t interrupted
His busy schedule, to pose for that photo session

I read a poem a day for inspiration,
How do you get your inspiration?

I shall build my bathroom vanity to suit my person needs
        In a marble glossy white strip featuring tea leaves
Where the sunset would lift my morning moods
As I quietly sit on the toilet with the latest Bluetooth
  
I shall lie on my high pillow top bed
        And listen to the sound of the larks
While the wild baby monkey sits on the ledge
        Where tiny soldiers of marching ant crawl in the dark

I shall refreshed my house with Natural Aromatherapy Incense
        Just to keep evil away,
and in addition keeping the blessing in
While broods of Dominique hen cackling makes a loud annoying song

       In the year two thousand forty-two, I will represent
As for now, I am planning and waiting for my long awaited retirement

Feeling so worn out:

Silly Rabbits

What the bad news was
He found me too late:

For us to start all over again,
Meant diving into dark waters
I offered no guarantee
Didn’t need sweeping off my feet

Everything was going according to God’s plan
Not man’s evil deed:

In the mist of everything, I knew trouble
Was up head: Rings would be taken off
Snap photo would be taken out of wallets
And nights of cold showers before going to bed
The refrigerator would be empty once again

Because he found us:
The man who flew to high
nights would be like a silencer

Facebook on liners would be his friends
And the house of Jericho would tumble down again

I choose freedom; he took a leap of faith
Don’t cry for me: cry for him, from love to disgrace,

It took thirty odd years for him to look good in the mirror
but it took a few second to look bad in her eyes

It took me one year and I  fix it.
Lost time pencil in:
True love of a good friend

Don’t cry for me; cry for him:
I offered no guarantee:
I offer no sideline referee

Didn’t need to be sweep off my feet
Man’s evil deed wasn’t meant for me
neither being a relationship referee.

A woman at the height of ******
This is where the poem comes to a howl
suddenly, the poet hold his breath

He remembered a time long ago
When her well pedicured feet caught his eyes
and not her mind: that fetish duck..

She could have let him touch up her pedicure
Instead of playing with her heart strings

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.

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.

When winter is over
Give praises,
With a goodbye kiss
Kissing the wintry weather goodbye

For years I dreamt that God would
find me the perfect man to grow old with
during the coldest part of winter,
a fling for the summer

An educator for spring and fall
Instead he send  Mr. Winter,
he was so cold and bitter
Mr.Summer, he was too hot to trot

Mr. Spring, the man was so unpredictable and moody,
and for the mysterious Mr. Fall
he keeps falling instead of rising.
So this year, I am once again, another lady who sing the blues
My Billie Holiday kind of sweet bitter blues…
is good-byes

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

What election has left us over the years, (divisions?)
Two and two doesn’t equal four any more in voting booths
Pulling the leveler, to cast ones votes doesn’t registered
Our candidates have already been chosen.
Our way of life is but a passing stain..(Permanent)
However, the flag of justice will wave either in mast
Or half-staff:

Holding hands is not just for crossing the street
But to squeeze each other hands under the sheet
Is the little joy we find these days in contentment:

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....

You may not believe it, but I have tried,
To come to terms with this thing
Called forgive and forget,
While reaching for the tissues box
So what about my hidden scars?
My daily reminders, my mentors
I have tried.. But they taught me to be
Strong, and believe that out of bad comes good

Maybe I ought to tried, a *******
To see if I can came to terms with that too..
With me, myself and I: what a fantastic dual

I love me: and I, was fondling myself.
My evil mind, my impure thoughts
My labor of love: I did try

Poetry writing has taught me a lot throughout the years
I can be original, but I would never master the craft
But I will have a voice of recognition: My human voice

by John Keats

A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:
Its loveliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.
Therefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


*Feedbacks
A poet strives for perfection
Someday his work will become a worldly reflection
With each line he procrastinates,

With each stanza bring unique function and a unique purpose
Reaction, pro action and anticipation
To the point of debating or deconstructing his work
Despite the unfavorable reviews

Should he read it out loud?
Or should he let it simmer
and invite samplers to sample

Too many minds, too many voices
The Metaphors, similes and analogies work so well,
because they make messages,
those closely related literary devices are
so influential, so important.

So when the feedbacks become the Sunday buffets
the main course, you are messing with his thing of beauty

A poet strives for perfection
Someday his work will become a worldly reflection
With each line he procrastinates, of who he is

Three months ago, I never had any thoughts

About, love, loving someone, or being in love,

They say a good love is one that sits you down, gives you a drink of water, and pats you on top of the head. But I say a good love is one that casts you into the wind, sets you ablaze, makes you burn through the skies and ignite the night like a phoenix; the kind that cuts you loose like a wildfire and you can't stop running simply because you keep on burning everything that you touch! I say that's a good love; one that burns and flies, and you run with it!”
― C. JoyBell C.

If I was to tell you that I saw a rose blooming in the heart of winter

No one would believe me, that love struggling to stay afloat.

Perhaps, the rose is here to remind us, of something, we’ve have forgotten

During the summer's months, (like did we stop and smell the roses)? Such cliché indeed)

I never thought of the rose, until two days ago, when I told my friend about

That single rose I uses to get ever 6th of the month:

That too had stopped when our love for each other was dying like the rose:

However, the memory is still here, did I appreciated the rose gestures on the months

Yes, I did, I felt love, I felt the warmth inside.

It seems like I am going to be alone once again for Christmas

But I will think of that single rose,

I will drink my eggnog, and baileys Irish Cream

But will not bake my goose, but I will relive

Past memories, my mistletoe kiss will have to wait,

And disguise my disappointment like a true trooper:

(Laughter brings many positive qualities into the world and into human relationships.) quote

I am now seeing, why a laugh, a smile, a body gesture

Can make a person feel so good inside,

When he smiles at me:  

And it's because, I open my heart, once again:

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,
:

People think a soul mate is your perfect fit, and that’s what everyone wants. But a true soul mate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that is holding you back, the person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life. A true soul mate is probably the most important person you’ll ever meet, because they tear down your walls and smack you awake. But to live with a soul mate forever? Nah. Too painful. Soul mates, they come into your life just to reveal another layer of yourself to you, and then leave. A soul mates purpose is to shake you up, tear apart your ego a little bit, show you your obstacles and addictions, break your heart open so new light can get in, make you so desperate and out of control that you have to transform your life, then introduce you to your spiritual master…”  ―Elizabeth Gilbert

A little not to Kiri Petro Sino*      

Some phantasms are like my lovers
Neither faithful nor trustworthy
My memories of them is slippery
Not kind, but phantasms
This left a bad taste in my mouth
Sad as it might seem:   I do not sympathize

Not all phantasms were my lovers
I think of them on bad days,
Some are losers, wearing the badge of shame
Not publicize, but hidden like a crouching tiger with it hidden sword:
They hid behind the skirt of their new loves:  griping,

They defeats and their regrets in life shows in their everyday life

Forgiveness is an act of self-love and respect.
- don Miguel Ruiz

My kind of forgiveness might be an emotion
Its turning that page of my life:
Without reading the Contents to the end smoothed me

Some of my phantasms are my everyday peers
  I think of them as lost poets without words
deep with their thoughts: individuals who are
afraid to express themselves to the fullest.

I want to write a poem as long as California*

Nope, I want to write a poem as short as his *****
As short as a stump: When we think of bravery
Right away we think of the soldier, the hero:

When we think of his behavior its reflects on
His upbringing that influenced his character
The mouth that eats salt and pepper
Would thirst for water: it craves the attention

When I think of eating  some fishcakes,
I immediately think of the bones
That sensation of something stuck in my throat, then sudden death
They is an action, and a reaction
I want to write a poem that is going to outlive the pecker
But as trended as hate crimes…………

I watch him undress,
Chocolate skin, hairy chest,
But where are the six packers?

He read my thoughts,
and whispered softly in my ear
Sixth sense, six packs, six degrees of separation,
My evil third eyes, blinks with no hesitation
when I look at you.

Come when my heart is full of grief
Because love is confusing, love is a thief
Look into my eyes, my darling

Let us sail that ocean of love that never divides us
We would never, say never because my
beauty isn't all it appears to be,
Look into my eyes, and tell me what you see
It’s the warmth of the hearts,
That ignites the tender spark
So the fire of passionate love may start

Words of love come so easily to you.
However, for us love do not come at all
Love isn't what love songs tell us it is.
It’s not the magical music video, where
boys meet girl and fall deeply in love:

Where heart-shaped balloon arch, decorated the
fire place, as they make love on the white furry
rug in front of that big flaming fireplace:

The heart knows what it wants, and the heart want
a connection between the two hearts
Yours and mine
Happy
Valentine’s Day

“The fact that I can plant a seed and it becomes a flower, share a bit of knowledge and it becomes another's, smile at someone and receive a smile in return, are to me continual spiritual exercises.”*


― Leo Buscaglia

Come, let us plant the seed of love,

let's create what some scientist said that was impossible

Let our love show in a magnificent way

Let it be healthy, wealthy and wise in coming years

It would be tears, it would be joy,

He would be our love joy and our sweet boy:

There is madness, there is happiness,

However, as we all know, happiness is found in the

Madness of one's life.

“There is always some madness in love. But there is also always some reason in madness.”


― Friedrich Nietzsche



Enter me with the warmth of your love,

Deposit the gift of life, as you seed flow and reach the tubes,

One smart egg will bond to become our next generation



Why would we do this, why?

Love like this is rare,

Come, let us plant the seed of your love  

And we shall see our blessing of tomorrow.

Are you ready for fatherhood,  

Are you ready for the responsibility

Are you ready to believe that one plus one  

Equal three, are you ready kuku?

So, let's plant the seed of love.

We plant this seed, on the bed of  

Residency the Blessing, on the coolest night

In Accura, near the Gulf of Guinea,

A sign of life, a sign of hope,

You should plant this seed,

It could be a future doctor

who would  cure, senseless disease

A politician who can change numerous things

As he travels the world for free,

And speak up about the country economy  

Or become the better poet, than his mother

Could ever be, Lord blessed thee!

One day his grandchildren will ask

Who was my grandparents, thank God

For them, that hour, when they planted the seeds.

I will always have the fear of love
.
A fear of relationships and love tends to be deep-rooted,
and be connected to a fear that love hurts (quotes)
The heartbreak, the intimacy of knowing, that they were there
And now they are in the arms of another,
Doing the things that they had promise to us
Like loving us to death, while opening mortal wound:
Death ends a life, not a relationship>” Mitch Albom
What is lovely never dies, but passes into another loveliness
I hate my x, but not his offspring,
I love coke- cola but not the caffeine
I love ***, but not the togetherness:
I will always have the fear of love,
But I will always remember that one kiss,
The last goodbye, but his first hello
That look in his eyes, the day I saw him cry
I won’t apologize for guarding my heart
My expectations, of him shatters us
(My soul, wait in silence for God only, for my hope is from Him. Luke 3:15)
I shall not be afraid to walk the street alone
Without his hands in mine, or his comforting words
At the stop light, “please wait before we cross”
But I still have the fear of love for the mortal man
He oppresses, dehydrates and ever suffocates us (quotes)
However, God’s love never fails us:
I shall always distance myself from love
Even many might say that love is life,
And life is worth living without that kind of love.
I shall never tremble again, nor grip my heart
Because love had disappointed me
My love for them is real, they love for me is about the money,
,

I will not love you

Again for another five years
Unless you make a commitment
My needs, your wants,
your passionless approach said only
one thing…you are still living in a fool paradise
What does any man need after the age of 60?
His retirement plan or his servility

It’s your time to shine:  my youth is fading
My words, my voice might be erased
Nevertheless, there’s one more lesson to be told my child
  Take life slow, live, breathe and learn.
Night comes and the day comes. And there you are alone
Night owls never stay faithful

My favorite bloomer knows my curves,
As well as my favorite poems, knows its audiences,
But it wasn’t written by me:

The verses inspire, encourage and feed my mind
Like an infant loving the theme songs of the A B C
Like an isolated soul that forces to be reckoned with
Come take a leap of faith with me,

Let’s climb the highest mountains
Or take that plunge to the ocean floor to see what lurks down there
Our mood shall always change with the clocks,
tick, tock, tick tock,
while our hearts  beat out of rhythm

our minds, however shall feel the changes with each modern poem,
to public narratives – the stories we read each day
Come what may, we shall prevail



*Joy...
    “ Grief can take care of itself, but to get the full value of a joy you must have somebody to divide it with. ”
― Mark Twain

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.