There is tropical warmth and listless life

In the city this morning of July 9th 2020
The poet finding her hidden voice
While searching for the correct words,
Just to coincide with the invisible
birds with the sweetest tunes,
on church street and  Tennis road

The stillest trees with the airborne disease
Presses on despite its odds choice
Yet, they say my poems isn’t up to parody

A poet must stay in her lane,
A painter must control each and every stroke,
An essential worker must embrace the moments
Of respect, because it’s not going to last

As well as the stillest trees,
with the airborne disease
must presses on despite its odd choice?

I think the citizens of this country
should stop focusing
On what Mr. Trump says or do.
They should reminisce on why
They elected him in the first place

My mixing bowl did not get on top the tallest shelves
By itself:**
Someone place it there, and somebody have to take it down

There is tropical warmth and listless life
Around most country today,
And yes, there is going to be more missing children,
As we move forward dealing, with crisis like this
Pandemic, politic and riots:

Because when we don’t paid the Pied Pipers
Our livelihood and our children will vanish:

The thousands of grey hair circle my hairline
matching the wrinkle lines on my aging face
They came with pain and hardships,
and not enough love to go around;

Suddenly, an expressive emoji of my younger face
came to surface, happy yet sad, yet no crack
but this all came about when time had relapse :
so many heart-break, so many mistakes,

Like humpty the wall breaker, or was it the dream crasher?
Time has treated me like a step child.

Narrative Reportage for 8/2/2018

Home is the word we love to hear:
The dreams are never over,
They are always a break through: after the tears:
An x is lodge in our heads was it the,
rock, a tree, or the hidden board,
Time welt serve: time to cash in
Time uproot the rocks
that tree and those loose boards
would this be a happy ending?

You had choose the life of crime
The crime didn’t nail itself
Every day a black man
Under the age of twenty
Pulls the trigger, they turned off the light
He longs to return to his mother womb:
I see the love of their mothers
While she holds their hands at age three
at age twenty three I see the replacement :
the chrome bracelets: the resentment
Neflex the new society wants us to believe that orange is the new black:
“Our ancestors have invented, we can at least innovate.”
― Amit Kalantri

**“Oh Child
Look within
Find your ForeMothers
Find them
Find them”
― Malebo Sephodi

To all my followers
This year let my words nurse you
Back to life,
Come hold the end of my pen
Let’s us take this poetic journey together
Words without end: Amen



*Life is not about waiting for the storm to pass it's about
learning to dance in the rain

I’ve never been kissed on the dance floor.  
With him, I feel light-hearted,  
but apart, I’m utterly devastated.  
I’m a dreamer, he’s laid-back,  
and without a genuine connection, our love feels  
like scenes from a disconnected game—  
where hate destroys, yet love seeks to heal.  
But with each passing day, my love for him dwindles.  

We are apart because this kind of love cannot thrive.  
We never dance; we never kiss on the dance floor.  
Our rhythms never sync; he lacks that spark,  
and so, a kiss on the dance floor has eluded me.  

Feelings shift when loneliness takes their place.  
Love wavers,  
when a marriage crumbles,  
as I wish and hope our love was strong enough  
to bridge the gap.  
Unlike wildflowers plucked without care,  
my love was stunted,  
never given the chance to blossom.  

Still, I hold a profound respect for him.  
A part of me must make a choice,  
and so I choose happiness; I choose solitude  
over the confusion of pity masquerading as love.

Today, I felt like if I was were searching for myself
I felt like I was on a crowded boat floating
And this one passenger who kept getting
Up and making the boat leans to one side

I could hear the voices of terrified passengers yelling at him
To sit down, before he makes the boat collapse or even
Him falling overboard: the logic behind this is that some

People want money, but do not want to work hard
For it….they want water, but do not want to fetch it
They want fire, but do not want to chop the kindle
Their wish is to go to heaven, but afraid to die

Why am I surrounded by so many pea-brains?
Why do I feel like I can do better by myself?
I think that it is time for me to jump overboard
And swim back to the mainland

Today I feel a furious intensity

About two years, ago

Family members would always love to share

The news about the passing of someone

Either from the village, or someone, I once knew

I remember during our conversations; I would tense up

And asked of them not to called and give me bad news



Death is a daily reminder,

right up there on our calendars



When I was away, my neighbor  

Call and told me, that someone was

Outside my door, all dress in black banging on my door



Right away my thoughts were

The Angel of Death, looking for me...

During these pandemics' day, he is all over the place

Like an Amazon Prime van, outnumbered by UPS trucks,

While the world is being shut down,

Some of the people, refused to give a rat ***

They still refusing the vaccines

Protecting themselves, or worried about this thing call death



Death  will take us all, poets always write about it

As they convey things that other forms of expression can’t. Quote:

A man with outward courage dares to die; a man with inner courage dares to live. Lao Tzu

My motto for today is live each day as if it's your last.

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.

To give birth to a new poem
Like buds to flowers, forming lovely thoughts into words
I have create something from nature, to be one with the soil

My words of wisdom came off as freedom of expression
I have demand precision; while planting an imagery vision
In the mind of my readers, my pen moves, my lips were sealed
but my heart and my thought were divided in small pieces

So, here I am giving each and every one of you nourishment
 From this placenta of words to form a new poem;
Emotion you must experience, my insight you must follow,
to find value in something like this,
is called artistry of writing poetry.

And what do I get in return?
What words of wisdom I could possibly impart?
Knowing, I made you think, about writing your next poem.
Is my satisfaction: said this poet

To him who is in love with me
You speak a language that I don’t speak
A language; for the fool who believe

You have a voice of gladness and the smile of insults
In my past, I wasn’t good enough then
And I am not good enough now,
with that being said a hidden beauty would blossom at
the right time:

Coming from your wildest fantasy: you came off
Like one of my most famous nursery rhymes
The pied piper of Hamelin, the joker the sweet talker
Sad images, broken promises, those days have been gone,
Of our fondest memories there were none,

Many a night in the breathless darkness,
in that small wooden house on top of the hill
I still remember that still voice, which had numbed me
I had lost all faith in the human race:
To link my past with the future, would be a **** up illusion:

Like cycling backward up a mole hill with a loaded gun
Forgotten languages need no symbol: any refills

nope!

About him who think he love me,
You speak a language what I am not so familiar with:

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

These days I am loving TikTok more
Then writing my poems, ouch!
My body is not like meat,
Ready to be eaten, without the fear
Of contamination, harsh words indeed
My body my temple, my Floribbean honeydew
But tonight, my room seems crowded
The side chicks, the **'s and there you are.....
John crow I should indeed say:
My poems are messages from me to myself,
I am calmer tonight more than any ocean
The Pacific Ocean have nothing on me,
Even though it’s the most dangerous than any other ocean:
Writing about one's pain can bring out the best in my work
Pain forces you to go on a journey of self-discovery (quote)
I forget my true self when I am in love: whom am I really?
I am a ***** with a switch,
A past that was never attractive, only my illusions.
I thought that you were my king of my castle
Tomorrow I shall be sober, from the wine
I didn’t drink, then I will make some adult decision.

Too Much to Handle**

These days, I find myself captivated by TikTok, spending hours scrolling through its endless stream of content, even more than I indulge in writing my poetry. Ouch! It feels like a betrayal to my creative spirit. My body is not merely flesh ready to be consumed; it’s a sacred vessel, a fortress to protect. Each harsh word affects me deeply. My body is my temple, a sweet Floribbean honeydew, yet tonight, my room feels suffocatingly crowded.

Thoughts of past relationships swirl around me like unwanted guests—those side thoughts, the ghosts of exes, and looming large, there you are… John Crow, an unwelcome reminder of what once was. I remind myself that my poems serve as messages, heartfelt whispers from me to myself. This evening, I’m finding calm that rivals even the most tranquil sea. The Pacific Ocean may be fierce and tumultuous, but tonight, my inner peace feels stronger.

Writing about my pain extracts the rawest emotions, breathing life into my work. It’s interesting how deep suffering can propel one into a profound journey of self-discovery. In love, though, I often lose sight of my true self, questioning, who am I really beneath the layers of affection?

I feel like I flick between different versions of myself, switching from a past that was less than inviting, wrapped in my own illusions. I once believed you were the king of my castle, my protector in a world of chaos.

Tomorrow, I plan to rise with clarity, sober from the wine that never touched my lips tonight, and then, I hope to navigate the adult decisions that await me with newfound wisdom.

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

Resilience Unveiled”

To the woman who weeps upon betrayal’s blade, Her heart’s fragile wings, in tempests swayed. Yet within pain’s chisels, a metamorphosis blooms, Mating intelligence refined, wisdom consumes.

She deciphers subtle cues in future mates’ eyes, No longer blinded by love’s sweet disguise. Her heart, a compass, guides through the storm, Detecting low mate value, keeping her warm.

But what of the other woman, entwined? Dancing with deception, love’s twisted bind. Her prize: a man who betrayed with ease, A heart ill at ease, history’s infidelity keys.

Days pass, the all-woman stands tall, Dress discarded, memories small. Her worth, her happiness—her own throne, No charity case, no borrowed zone.

Malice whispers, venomous hiss, She invokes Hanlon’s razor, dismissing the abyss: “Never attribute to malice,” she imparts, “That which is explained by stupidity’s arts.”

Human behavior, folly and wisdom entwine, And silently, one weeps upon life’s knife.

Behind the mask of darkness
Always lies the madness of one inner self
It is important to respect one fear
Around this time of Halloween

The autumn leaves had blanket the cold October ground
Covering the Jack' o lantern on the front porch,
And I wasn’t about to let nothing petrify me that cold night

I remember that morning had come a minute too soon
Before my R E M cycle kicked in
I wasn’t mentally prepare to face another day
But there I was once again: undone

In my country we were never allowed to,
Celebrate Halloween or dress up in
Anything, that resembles evil, ghost, globin,
Headless horsemen, or vampires,
It was known to be the works of the devil doings

My candid thoughts were on Halloween spooky night
The loud screams of trick or treats,
was heard all around this gloomy town of Collins port
Small tots all dress up in hideous costumes

I had allowed fear to control my thoughts and inner space
Black spiders, howling wolves and black coffins,
The creepiest sound and display on route 69
Grown folks hide behind the masks of darkness
While parading the street of Sotho in Manhattan

Another long night of evil spirits, witches and ghosts terrify the night;
Toddlers with Tiaras was on the verge of tears
what a lose-lose situation: From beginning to end
Close to ten there I was cruising down route 69

I check the glove compartment, took out a peppermint patty,
The rusty Beretta Nano pistol was still there,
snugly into my glove compartment
My pepper spray was close by my trigger fingers

Suddenly, I felt a ****, scraping, and clunking, squeaking sound
My tire blowout in the middle of nowhere,
Behind the mask of darkness
Always lies the madness of one inner self
"Trick or treat!"

We all love a good story.
With a good ending,
What is going on today is not a story
It is the reality, of mad virology scientist

Its headlines that read like this
“As Biden nears victory, worlds hopes
For end to American isolationism

It’s hard to say it out loud without breaking in to pieces
It’s easier to live a lie, rather than to surrender?

When the American truth needs no translation
The poet became an unhappy Ambassador,
he believe in worldly- views:  He pen is waiting
to announce the winner, (who would it be)

Nothing is final to a poet eyes and ears
But to a mad scientist: it says progressivism
To him man or language wasn’t created equally
Every poet should be responsible for his poetic language
while every scientists should be held responsible for his action.

As well as his emotion and excretion
either from the mouths, or from the other end
the smell, textures even the tones
as long as  the world  acknowledges
them as the Lever of things to come

it’s hard to say it out loud without breaking in to piece
where there is action they will be a reaction
Leadership money and power: is that what we voted for?
is this what we are dying for? Is that most people dreams?

Trumps , Biden supporters face off in Detroit
Headlines like these make a poet pen trembles..

"Whoever keeps his mouth and his tongue
keeps his soul from troubles"
We are still waiting for the winner..

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.

Happiness
Is not
A sin

But a little sin can gain temporary happiness
Oh lord helps us, help me..
I just couldn’t go on sinning

Stupidity is not a handicap>
All trace of it headed straight to him
Ugliness doesn’t sit well on my eyes

All part of him was ugly; it was so hard to focus
Poetry can be ugly or beautiful at times
However a painter and poet have some things in common
Ones paints what he see, the other feel what the other can’t feels
I wish the painter would paint the ugliness
And allows this poet to search for the goodness

"When power leads man toward arrogance, poetry reminds him of his limitations. When power narrows the area of man's concern, poetry reminds him of the richness and diversity of existence. When power corrupts, poetry cleanses.
John F. Kennedy"

UNCANNY
A poem arises firmly from my thoughts.
I can see it reflected in my adversary's mind as well.
Mine is undeniably poetic, but theirs had an unsettling quality,
Mindful individuals with unusual liabilities!
Those two or three long lines on the forehead are simply lines of expression. (not)
  I do remember their names: Errol, Wayne, and Manny
Those suiters were born deceivers implementing a series of strange plots.

It took women like me years to correct their mistakes.
Where are they now, lost men without the love of a woman?
I had made it my mission to look into their eyes.
The lines on their foreheads have aged with their bodies.
An embrace or a touch from them disgusts me.
They can see the hate as I slowly reject their touch.

I have rewritten those names through the years.
As Errol transformed into Mr. Uncanny,
Wayne became the manipulator,
while Manny took on the role of Pied Piper.
Today, I observed a slight trait with Gen Z.
They seem overly enthusiastic about catering to the desires of their suitors.
Leaving so many of them with suicidal thoughts,
Words to the youth of today,
Protect your emotions carefully.  
Getting a real love reaction is tricky.
The offspring of those vipers carry their father's DNA.

Psalm 90:6
in the morning it springs up new, but by evening it fades and withers.


When my heart returns in the seclusion,

I uttered these words to myself,

Give it time, be wise, embrace self-compassion

I must put myself first, I must, I must,  

This time around, I don't want to walk away,

Taste only me, make love to only me
Reflected only in my space.
enchantment leads to my dearest delight
enter my soul before the break of dawn

A dream within a dream according to Edgar Allan Poe

For our morning blessing/
Happy or sad, our morning salutations/
There is nothing more appealing  
Than seeing white undershirts and white teeth
as it captures the youth of innocent,  
falling in love, with a cub, half my age,  

A trickery of unfocused emotions bearing down.  


I can see no flaws,  
I see only what my heart allows,

Trembling lips, both top and bottom
gazing into those eyes of witchery illusions

Just this once, just feed me, just enter my soul  

This frigid northern cold, the Africa heat rises:
Who will bless this union?
When it all fades like leaf

All of us have become like one who is unclean, and all our righteous acts are like filthy rags; we all shrivel up like a leaf, and like the wind our sins sweep us away.

Let me love you for now,

Let me smile, while you smile,

aloud me, to accept you,

as you enter my soul

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

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

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

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

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

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


Sadly, I got to know her better,

she was sweet and sour at the same

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

I want to write poems about the poems
That I have already written to release my stress
I remember my first one about the internet night stalker
Whom in his words wrote that I was like dessert rose?
Low maintenance succulent that makes a man like him
Lose sleep over me, in return they became holy
ending all of the sentences with an Amen!
My poems had to make someone think
About love, lust and disgust, to mankind
Especially by the ****** arousal of men
*** is bad for women, those who are
Disgusted by the touch of a man:
Those who were used by A WOMANIZERS
Sometimes these women feel disgusted by ***
Once bitten twice shy
Politics and politicians are about power and glory
Their intention is never about making others happy.
Another ****** moment of being undone!
Nothing but A medium rare steak—
similarity to fake ******:
UNDONE!
One of my best would be to free *****
But allowed my poem to run freely thought-out
The internet, so that my words could reach foreign land
And it works, thousands of viewers read my thoughts,
Some even made comments,
love yourself, then my poems, appreciated them for what they are,
because what this world needs now, is love, sweet love,
not hate, free ***** but let my poem travel.

Everything Is Broken
Everything Is Broken
Broken poems,
Broken words,
Broken lines,
Broken links,
Leonardo Da Vinci Code broken
The critics not censored
Unedited

A Stranger amongst strangers
when the poet is a stranger
he become a danger to the future
You were here; I was there

Healing the world with prayers and lyrics
Just another nightmare
As the world shun another poet
The poets disappear another forgotten poem

Within each new poet there is a new idea
the poesy, the artistry, blend within hidden words
Fade poems curl like a half moon.
Fading, fading, gone too soon

Make love to me with thine eyes,

I will respond with my body

Never leave me feeling unfinished

Like the house of a carpenter

I will never ask for more;

my ****** drive increase,

Shifting, like a rebel without a cause

I will not Forfeit, until you are ready

Or until my heated pillow catches on fire.

Make love to me with thine eyes,

never let your hands touches my body.

I will send you kisses by GIF tenor

But I will cartoon your Pilli **** with pleasure

The lord is my shepherd  

I shall not want. Psalm 23

However, Make love to me with thine eyes,

I will not forfeit, until you are ready

If not for me, let it be of goodwill

Garfield
My Love, G


Your skin glows like the mango skin

blossoms desirable as the flowers in the purest hope of spring.
My yearning heart rises to your steel band voice and leaps like a female goat bleep

at the whisper of your name, G.
The evening ascends in on a great dove wing,
the ones that were in a flock this morning.
I am calm by your warm cotton white T-shirt

That you wore so well, just to please me.

You brought the joy back in my life:

You carry into the twilight, the van beams light
night for night and park just to chat with me

while you held streetlight flash next to your face,

The sign of powerful genes, the sign of eternal love


I am filled with hope that I may dry your tears

With the taste of my soursop lips upon

Your fats cheeks, as i make you laugh out loud.


while my eyes fall from your eyes, a constant reminder

  of that smile we shared in my living room,

.
In the hushed, I listen for the last whoosh of the fall's leaves

Instead, I removed your hands from my pouty breast

You constantly remind me off.

.
our soul long for each other touch



I wait in the crystal moonlight for your secret message,

so that we may race as one, arm to arm, in search of the glorious blue sensual wings of love.

When you have finished your work, I have something important to tell you all

Come in closer, closer, I remember walking down 54 street on a cold December in Manhattan

I had just finish with a job interview

a little frustrated but nevertheless

I have given praises to the almighty for allowing me to see another day

Never mind I was jobless, after two years of sending out my resume and making

Numerous phone calls to business throughout the city.



It was a cold day in December, I hit the pavement and was looking and praying to find myself a job  

As I was walking down the busy street, I saw a queue from here to Halifax

So, I decided to join the line,  

not even knowing what it was all about (nosey me as usual)  

I never even asked any of the people on the line, what was going on



So, this white lady with a clipboard in her hands, came out of the building and was escorting A few people at a time, to come in.

I stood trying to be looking smart as I am, and waited

When it became my turn, this lady looks at me from head to toe

And said to followed her, I did as I was told

She led us into the room, and started to hand out a test sheet:

She said we half only twenty minutes to complete it

I stare at my test sheet he had like 40 questions,

And some math, and vocabulary sentences to complete

I finish the test in less than 20 minutes,

Wondering what is next to come with the lady

I got up she stare me down once again,

Took the test sheet and asked me to wait in this waiting room:

Once again, I did as I was told.



After another 20 minutes she came and got me,

He exacts words.

“We are looking for people to work in Macy department stores,  

Throughout the city in all departments store

what hours can you work miss lander?

I sigh for a moment and say, the morning shifts

She said I ace the test; she took ANOTHER look at me again:

And spoke. You will BE BETTER OFF in the shoe department

Not the clothing, not the beauty counter, but the shoe department

I put my fake smile ON and thank her so much,



How dear she, after praising me on my test results

Because my *** was black,  

she wants to put me in the shoe department:

I filled out the necessary paperwork for pay roll

And I shook my head in miss believe,

I came home, and I tossed the paper in the garbage

And never took the job.

My beauty is meant to be seen,

To love beauty is to see light

I might not have been beautiful to her, but

Beauty is happiness,  

Racism is really a curse,

The advantages and the disadvantages of trying to keep a person down

They just can’t see beyond the color of our skin.



Rather than just saying we’d like to live in a more fair and equal society, we need to do our part to achieve it. (Quote)

LORD THANK YOU FOR LOOKING OUT FOR ME ONCE MORE
THE DEVIL CAME TO MY DOOR, I LET HIM IN
I ALMOST SIN, AND NOW HE LEFT HIS MARK BEHIND
THAT TOO WILL FADE IN TIME: Duration
I AM INNOCENT IN THIS MATTER
I TOO FEED UPON THE KINDNESS, AND Vulnerability OF OTHERS
WHO WAS TRYING TO DEFRAUD ME,
SO, I WILL THINK OF IT AS THE PLAYER GOT PLAYED
MY IMAGE, AND WORDS WILL BE ****,
BUT MY SOUL WILL STAY NUPTIALS
Lord, forgive me if my need
Sometimes shapes a human creed.
BEEN HIDING WAY, WAY TO LONG
I WAS PRESENTED  with A CHALLENGE
TO GO OUTSIDE AND PRETEND
THAT I WAS SEEING EVERYTHING FOR THE FIRST TIME
AND RENAME EACH AND EVERYTHING THAT I SAW
CAN I ERASE MONTHS OF MEMORIES, AND DO THE SAME?
TO EASE THE PRESSURE OF GOING INSANE?
THE WORD LOVE STICKS IN MY WIND PIPE,
AND SILENCE MY SMILE AND MY ****** IMPRESSION
SOFTLY, I WILL FORGIVE MYSELF AND CALL IT
MOMENTS OF STUPIDITY, ANOTHER PAGE FOR
MY BOOK ABOUT SUFFERING IN MY LIFE;
deficits...?Am I aging with sense, or weakening with relationships deficits...
Instead of being ******* myself I should adopted this way of thinking

“Instead of putting our elders out to pasture, we might learn to harness the experience, affection, and time they have to offer.”

Yesterday my name was Babe
Tomorrow I will be called ******
But at this hour it will be Nalda
The one who escapes from the jaw of the lappers
Annie We Can Do It..

I will always say hello,

Oh my baby, hello, hello,

Am I the one for you,

We just don’t know,

I am feeling you,

I wanting you,

I teasing you, I am loving you

Hello, hello, I will always say hello,

Your hello is contagious

But I wouldn't be label the

The guinea pig project,

No trick, no ****,

Thank you for bringing me back to life,

Death is like the lottery, you never knows when your number will called..
Quote:

My mother believed in prayers, more than my father did

My father believed in tackling his problem with a flask of  

White ***, I believed in the moment of things:

They are hidden compartments inside of us,

“Being in the moment” can be a helpful reminder if we understand it in a more expansive way

Perhaps it was true, when someone said to deal with some situation at moment times

I refused to grieve for my dearly departed husband,

Past experience, wouldn’t allowed me to weep at his grave

My lack of dispassion and willful stubbornness;

Did I really love him, did I really forgive him?

Maybe it was the disrespect, I couldn’t forgive,

The truth is quite different. Forgiving an offense empowers the offended. It is to a man’s glory to overlook an offense (Proverbs 19:11)



I would look at his picture on my refrigerator, and I love him and I hate him

In that same moment, we are surely bedmates

My distance craving, my longing to be held tightly throughout the night.



If a person can fulfill needs for companionship, love, *** or mating, there is a greater chance that the other person will fall in love with him or her.

I have done all of this, and came out the loser, all the time

Love is not for me.  loneliness is my captive

I know, I know, I know, loneliness need not to have the final words

Deuteronomy 21:15-17
“If a man has two wives, the one loved and the other unloved, and both the loved and the unloved have borne him children, and if the firstborn son belongs to the unloved, then on the day when he assigns his possessions as an inheritance to his sons, he may not treat the son of the loved as the firstborn in preference to the son of the unloved, who is the firstborn, but he shall acknowledge the firstborn, the son of the unloved, by giving him a double portion of all that he has, for he is the first fruits of his strength. The right of the firstborn is his.

It not a good thing to play a hero!!

Whatever is good is God.
Whomever chooses to be bad is just evil
So let the foul pollute himself.
Whomever continues to lie let them lie
bad liars must have good memories:
Today, my avocation is what help me
Its help deal with the madness, that surround me:
It only takes the one, two, three to set off my anxiety
“The thoughts you resist persist.” quote:
The positive energy I retain, I immediately give off
a hearty welcome, with a smile is just letting you all know
That I appreciated every one of you.
Whatever is good is God:
Whomever, chooses to be bad is just evil
My life is an open book, as I reveal it my poetry writing
Some folks do plastic surgery to better themselves
I improve my minds with my writing,
Words are my friends, so I surrounded myself with words
As my broken heart hurt me my writing improve like
A crying baby who was given a lollipop:
At times brain sax calm me,
Lying awake wouldn’t help the situation,
But the tick Tok tick sound of rain, might:
I choose my words carefully,
Because the manufacturers lie at times
All sizes don’t fit all.

She Steal Like a Thief
Her husband married his mistress
She closed her eyes and once again
    she lost him to that
She thinks of him as omnipotent

At last! she wears his ring
Now it’s time to bridle her tongue
and show the world that
she belongs to Master Singh

What goes around comes around
Karma is a . Now its casual ***
with Tess the * switch

He smiles, she laughs
He slows down, she picks up the pace
He sneezes, she said bless you”.
she began her new life without hesitation, without delay

To her the man is omnipotent God
worshipping the ground, he walks
yes, master, no master

somehow, she manages
to love, honor and obey.
she steals like a thief

My love looks like a choir boy tonight
His angelic voice lighten up the air waves
But he is in his sixty, a pensioner
His weaknesses make me strong

To share your weakness is to make yourself vulnerable;
to make yourself vulnerable is to show your strength.” ~Criss Jami

He looks like a teenager engage with his first crush
His low haircut and a soft whispering voice,
His only mission is to make me happy
My advice for him: comes from a quote

##To see the world, things dangerous to come to,
to see behind walls, to draw closer, to find each other and to feel.
That is the purpose of life.
The Secret Life of Walter Mitty**

I have a lot of admiration for my love
A wonderful man with potentials

I never heard my mother told
My father that she loves him

A little nod to
Walter Everette Hawkins
Ask me why I love you, dear,
And I would ask the sparrow
If it matters! That he ..he stutters
Love is a forbidden nectar,
And so we are like flowers; and bloom only, when the sun, kisses us.”
― sir kristian goldmund aumann,

Don’t ask me if I still love you
I wouldn’t ask you my heartbeat,
If being downright violated isn't too much for me
Ask me why I love you, one more time
And I will ask the debt collectors for more time
Or I will ask my brain, not to confuse me
mind, body, soul and spirit (my Trivedi effects)
Then it wouldn’t be any need for us to get upset
If I get the right answers
I will smile with you again,
Ask me why I can't trust my heart with you
Let the other one reply.
She knows you better than I do,
When the **** hits the fan
Where the heart is pure
And if we can’t find the answers
We shall depart
only the inner voice gives me freedom

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

Viable Solution
I am completely detached from that situation. I did not play any role in creating the issue at hand. My focus today is solely on discovering a viable solution.

Why is there such a tendency to place all the blame on artificial intelligence?
In reality, AI empowers us, providing both confidence and clarity as we craft our creative works. When we relied solely on paper currency, we faced the risk of theft, and then credit cards emerged as a safer alternative. Many people continue to voice their concerns, but I fail to see anything inherently wrong with embracing AI in our processes.

I recognize that for some traditional poets, the rapid evolution of technology can feel daunting and overwhelming. Yet, adapting to these changes is essential. I remember when computers first entered the healthcare field to assist in tracking patients' medications. I felt a wave of apprehension at first; however, I can now confidently say that this technology has been a tremendous blessing, making it much easier for me to capture my thoughts and ideas on paper."

A candlelight Vigil for the poems,
As they scroll down the board
Last expression, unknown destination
lost history, put down your pens!
                     Words!

Have they stated their case?
Your words were meant kindly,
Your words was found,
and I did eat them and your words
were meant to be spoken.

There's nothing, nothing left to say or do
You look through a window to the world outside
and watch another twelve inches of snow fall to the ground
Cursing Mother Nature or turning this into a blessing

Here I am waiting to see my tulips sprout
Instead, they are being blanketed with snow
There's nothing else left for me to do but to go inside
log on and read other people's thoughts :
so sad their mental state
so sad.

We seek wakefulness,
What is Barbados to me?
Hot sun, and Broad Rim hats and old khaki pants?
Robust men with warm undertone skin,
That blends with the cultivated land.
We seek constant reassurance from the one we love
That they will be there for us in good times
Or bad times, just to feel good about ourselves.
What is America to me,
I mean so much to me,
A place where I was able to educated my offspring,
While I work from sunrise, to sundown
Under pressure, under humiliation however,
Every sunrise holds more promise, and every sunset hold more peace. – Anonymous.
We seek solutions for all the hateful people,
We cannot solve our problems with the same thinking that created them.
”
We can’t sit back and do nothing
Or wonder when the race hate will be over,
I think the Putin's war in Ukraine going after the wrong people:
We seek justice, for hate crimes
What Jamaica to me?
The place of rhythm of swing and slay
Where someone can fall in love today
And deceive you the next day:
We seek answers, but only God know
That his creation is out of control:
We seek peace and peace comes with love
Where there is no love, in one's heart
There will be no peace.
We all know about a little wisdom
But did we put it to the test
God opens millions of flowers every day without forcing their buds
Food for thoughts my poetic friend.
Be vigilant, be wise, never trust anyone.

No words, just your eyes,
Your touch, just your smile,
your smell leaves me wanting more
I am weak when I am with you
Intoxicated by the touch of your lips
let this fire burn within for ever
I see not, I hear not
One love, one heartbeat within