Another year without looking in your eyes
another day, another month,
feels  likes eternity
another dream,  another anxiety
another night, another dream to be ignore
I hope that you know you set my soul on fire,
With your absence, leave a lot to be desired,
Time is against us,
Loving you is all that matters….
Circumstances:
My dearest Francis

Vivid images  
In the still of the night,
I saw vivid images of the strong
man I once love,
his emerald eyes, his
unshaven face prickly as the weeds
on my lawn,
I sigh!

Who’s this broken man?
Dreams, hope, futuristic shattered
like smoke rising in the open pasture
his broken portrait lean
against the dresser mirror

Love, hate, betrayals
I detest!
Confusion of a delusional stalker

Tomorrow when I am awake,
What would I remember?
Being his stalker or his lover?

Dreams, hope, futuristic shattered
like a two way mirrors,
however, only one view showing the
Shady side of the real him;
I detest.
his caretakers declared him as
fragile and unbalanced frame of a man
who was sadly tossed into the ocean of black tears

An wasted love affair ends
My heart is broken once again
a rainbow appears
I lost a good friend.

It felt like a funeral,
Instead of a wedding
The ink on the divorce paper smudges
Way too soon:
However, once again,
Tall stem Roses decorated the hallway of the church
While the old church bell ring out of tune for the first time
In one hundred years
~~
Jasmine bloom during both day and night day
at the entrance to the tomb
However, today they didn’t bloom
They bow with shame
~
If you must whisper, whisper a prayer
Is this a funeral or a wedding?
Said one of the guests in velvety blue:
They both wore red those two
However, the devil always wears plaid
When hell was getting hotter: the ceremony
was just flat and boring from being to end
I had always in vision her as the beauty without the beast
Seeing the bride up close and personal
  made a blob fish look
Pleasantly appealing in a non-comely sort of way
Today for the second time:
May I present to you Mr. Mrs.
Dumb and Dummier

I want to say to forgive and forget
I want to remain in the 99% of unbelievers
I also want to be the one who find the missing pages from the bible

I wish it was possible for me to hold Eve’s hand and say to her
“I know the feeling my sister.
It wasn’t your fault; it was our brother
Adam and the serpent
But who’s to blame,
when the missing pages
Never reveal the truth about man:
and his birthright

One word abomination
And two words
incestuous, relationships
This mystery would stay with us forever;
Knowingly, we can’t figure out
who’s wrong and who’s right

Living for many of us today in a sinful world
where the answers isn’t clear
While the missing pages turned to dust and vanish:

Shame, shame and more shame on our faces
Would it be proven in the end?
We all have our own story to tell
but, time is of the essence

People build million dollars homes
Far away from the city dwellers
To be free from ordinary folks
Are well known loners

They even tried to own the high sea
Unfortunately, it belongs to all nation and mankind
It’s  known as freedom and seafaring power to all

In hopes of a segregation
without the unnecessary advocating
they build swimming pools;
and Bob wire fences

It’s hard for many of us to create duplicates of heaven
Without the approval of the mighty one
These efforts would remain tantalizingly and unreachable
Like the keys to the golden gates;

Some of the loners that goes down to the depth of the ocean
To do business in the water, have failed miserably
after they have seen the works of the all mighty

However, with all their money and the power
They is no escaping from your neighbors
There is only one thing that separated us
is death

Better to remain silent and be thought a fool
Than to speak out and remove all doubt.”

― Abraham Lincoln
……………………..
Conversation with older folks always
Makes us think about
How complex we are
When asked 80 to 90 percent of older people
How are they doing?
Most replies are the same
“Child I am just waiting.
Waiting!
For what
To meet my maker”
From the time we were born
Plans were made for us
About our life
What are you going to be?
When we grow up
And soon has one become an adult
Our thoughts about dying
Frighten us
You are born then you die
Life might be simple for some
However, it a race to
get over unfairness of life

I met my third grade teacher last year
The first thing she said to me
“Did you follow your dreams?
A moment in an instant world
I felt like she were in control
^
She is much older now
However, nothing has change
We born, then we die
No matter how hard we try
The ropes never seem to loosen

What if everything
Were revealed: about my whereabouts
Especially last night:
Was I somnambulism?
It time to get myself together,
I was all over the place
I have to channel my energies into something useful
I have to stay soulful
I have to stay focus
I am not a night walker.
But a vampire.

What is poetry? Is it a uniform thing?
Or a kaleidoscope dream images
Of a one- man team
a dimension of systematic thinking
His metaphors, his musical mode or
his original mistakably literal meanings

If I came to you and say
I see the love in your baby blue eyes
It reminds me of that sunny day.
When the clouds was still and I fire up my libido
Did I really fire up my libido or was the love in your eyes really blue
Even as you said to me
“I am going to **** you tonight with my loving
Was that nonliteral
Or one of your nonsensical fuss
Poetry is your own lovely way of
Woven out your most inner thoughts

I am the unknown poet
Trying to survive amongst the poet of poets
I am always woven word and thoughts
with whatever is on my mind

I go down by the river,
the rocks and
Crawly creatures speak to me in a poetic way
The moon and the stars
Crusade against my poetic ways of
Saying goodnight to them

I visited the highest mountain in my mind
I felt those waves of ****** ecstasy
So I said what it is,
Is what it is?
I am an unknown poet who seek adventure
The one who see the world in colors,
even when the clouds
Are gray and rain never seem to seize
Because
the very basic core of a man's living spirit is his passion for adventure
I have a fear of deep water,
So, I never allowed my mind to
Take me under the deep blue sea
Where a school of tilapia nibbling at my feet
where the dolphins out bid its leaders for a piece of me

I am the unknown poet
trying to survive amongst the poet of all times
I am always woven word and thoughts
With whatever is on my mind
And it’s mostly for inner peace

Poetry give a voice to a prison inmate
he show emotions
Poetry is evolution of man capabilities
to see beyond the clouds
Poetry is art with kaleidoscope images
With the eyes
    of an double-edge sword
That dug deeper into ones soul
Poetry is a purge for a dark soul
That clog ones’ artery
Poetry is fighting words against
An ill manner society
Poetry is an untimely wave
It never ceases to amaze us

Poetry is a stage plays: plays out
and became a big part in the court room drama
While the defense lawyers demonstrated
Their incompetence in many ways
If the gloves don't fit,
you must acquit.

Poetry is the flags we wave during
An uprising, as we protest again Apartheid
Poetry is the language that every poet
Want to translate into categories
Poetry is a threat to the man in higher power
As he sit upon his thrones

Poetry is the pacifier to a baby
As the lullabies and nursery rhyme soothe him to sleep
Poetry is the key to a romance
as the relationship loses its flavor
Poetry is an sale pitch
Its sell itself throughout history
Poetry is an eye opener it can break you
Or make you repeat tongue twisting words
Poetry is proverbs, Psalms and Eulogies
As it release ones souls into the unknown

Poetry is the key that bring us together
As we fall apart
Poetry is what held the slaves together
Through a time of injustice
Poetry is looking at the sun, the moon
And the stars, as we say silly words
“How lovely the moon looks tonight”
If only I could touch the stars, I  would place one
In your lovely hair as we gaze into each other eyes.

Poetry is the recall of a poet bad romance
That gone sour
Poetry is the seasons of poems as it rolls with
The elements of the weather
Poetry is the voice of a mute poet
Who perform in silence while the
audience read his mind


The Poem was inspired by Emilio Villa

When I go back to the Island
and my old friends said that they miss me
I miss me too,
the old me,
The one who had the futuristic ideas
the girl with
the ***** locks braids which is
so happy and natural like the
land
the same girl with the ashy feet,
the one who work the land with her bare hands

I was like a woman land army,
wild and carefree
the same girl who  use her teeth to peel
out the hard skin and bite into the inner part of
the sugarcane and chew it.

who planted Roses, Morning Glories
with a smile
The one who loaded sharp blades sugarcanes
on to the high trucks
in the relentless hot sun
or frigid rain
with aches and pain
and drank water from the pitchers
until the sun go down;

Somehow, that girl survive those hard days
Even when she dance until dawn to the
sweet sound of the reggae beat
and the oldies Goldie's tunes

The one who woke up early to catch the 5:20 am bus
to travel miles to work in
Wildleys for minimum wages.

So when I go back to the islands
And my old friends say they miss me
Old friends brings all of the memories
back into the present state of mind
for a woman who is growing old