Feeling Lonelier than ever
Sadder than the Mad Hatter
Waiting and waiting for news
We must not depend on others
To make us happy, we must not
Relying on social media to fulfilled our days

We must not put all of our eggs into one basket
and we mustn’t be brainwash into believe that we can trust man
we must not feed on others sympathetic moments
Or make them our sympathetic companions:
just stating true facts:

The experts say that it’s perfectly ok to have
Sad feeling at times: it’s called the season of emotions
I love the summer months, it brings out happier times for most of us..
I saw an ad once it’s said it: Facebook making us lonely

In order for us to get on to Facebook we have to logged on
Just like any other switch, for us to see in the dark
We must turned on the light, without the light we might
Stumble in the dark and fall:
so if Facebook making us lonely
Why logged on: it just simply mathematics Mr. Watson(:)

Why move to a room where there is discomfort?
Stay close to your comfy chair and do a little meditation
Reflect on the good times: cleanse your soul: from your Toxic workplace
A week at work with negativity coworker: need a removal day

**If only closed minded came with closed mouth

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

As I lie in bed,
Flat on my back;
I think of life in a kaleidoscope setting
Colorful, plentiful and carefully chosen
My daily worries about my Future endeavors

I became the silence of the lamb character for a nanosecond
Politician and political threats in Washington DC
still debating: some silently *******

Women holding up signs teasing the president’s daughter
Old men gazing at her pretty face with drooling ****** emoji

Thinking out loud, about the " if only"

As I lie in bed,
Flat on my back; thinking
is 2017 the year of critical thinking?

****** masks
As we look around,
All we see is humans wearing ****** masks
A world of silencers, a world of social distancing:
Before we use to sit silently and watch the world
Around us:  misbehaved: the unruly bunch

Silence is holy it draws attention
To our inner peace:  today is the silence of the mask
Draws attention to fear, a fear of us being side track
By this disease, so we wear the mask of silence,
Do you remember, the measles, chickens pox’s
Scarlett fevers and the list when on:
But it’s nothing in comparisons to corona corvid 19

Lockdown: Now it’s staying at home means getting creative
Evaluating our lives, our behavior, our life style..
Was it out of control?  
Were we ever essentials?

  I hate wearing the mask
It make me feel like a captive, but i know better
Not to wear it: I need protection from you
And you need protection from me.

Because of what Mr. Trump said “the Chinese disease.”
Wearing the mask to do the tasks
Letting go of the hatred enable us to move forward

A world without humans is not a world
Is a silence world:
with one small flower emerging from a rock on a side walk

"I remember the land. I remember its people—their ways, the folly of their mentality. I never encountered the term ‘depression’ until later in life. I grappled with hatred and bigotry because they’re diseases akin to cancer and COVID-19.

Do you recall the carefree children of the eighties, their hedonistic pursuit of drugs, ***, and intellectual freedom? It goes like this: I don’t think of labor; I don’t think of work. Labor implies toil, and if it’s not self-employment, it’s slavery with meager wages from the man.

I remember the land and its people—their foolishness weighed on me. I remember the departed, how those trees outlived them. The language of the trees whispers freedom and the sound of human longevity, thanks to a matured land’s kindness.

The waste land we leave behind, even without spoken words, tells a story of abandonment. What you might see as a grassy area, I perceive as a court date—a battleground where families fight for ownership. Illegitimate children vie for their share of the land. Even unspoken, it holds worth.

How do you come to terms with yours?"

Family Secret

An Ice-cream man, with an Ice-cream van
His melodic chimes seem magical  and enchanting
the heat waves, a major summer killer

Little children with happy faces make biblical verses
Jump off the pages and come alive
Block to blocks, street to streets
laughter could be heard for miles

 There he was sitting on the old stoop
A little freckle face boy.
with eyes of a deep, dark blue
Waiting for God to answer his pray

Poor, little Vincent Maloney

He remember his grandmother harsh words
"Wipe your tears away, and pray in silent
Young Vincent Maloney"

“I pity your mother and I pity her choices,
and most all I pity her
For eloping with the colored man
 Barbara Coleman husband

Wipe your nose, and weep no more
Your daddy ain't your daddy
But your daddy doesn’t know

.
Race is not a determinable concept my child.

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,
,

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

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:

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:

I was sitting on the black stool,
next to her bed
she was elevated into a sitting position:
waiting to be fed,

I seriously thought by now,
She would have been dead:
Her fragile body, the determination,
Of the outcome of her life span:
makes her seems untouchable:
first born,, walk in
with a grin on his face,
his thoughts was similar to mines
She should have been dead by now

Small conversation, mostly about politics
His fruitless marriage and memories;
Of her teaching him how to tie his shoes lace,
a contemptible, socially inept person. In a suit

I should have dress her in her black dress
to match his suit, it would have been effortless
with the struggle of getting her into it…
I remember his break the silence moment:
Did you voted for Trump?
Why would he not.. asked how is my mother doing?
Did politics seem to matters most to him,
Or her wellbeing: In such a vegetable state?

I took a few steps down the corridor.
on my way back his visit was over:
tops five minutes

To him she is worth only five minutes of his time:
a contemptible, socially inept person. In a suit
she sang at his wedding, she taught him
how to ties his shoe lace,

she lay upon the bed with a tube up her nose
Waiting: for them to rain on her grave

Everyone is counting the casualties
Most of us saw the video of the decease
Most of us never knew her real name
Her story, was yet to be told,
Of a night worker, who stand alone in the dark
And defecated between the adjacent cars,
While an onlooker makes a video for shaming purposes
Words of comments, were

“How one live, so shall how ones die.
Man’s days are determined; by the almighty
Yesterday her name was the ***** from the club

Tomorrow her name will the late decease from Jamaica  
I will plant a tree in her name for peace,
And will it blossom beautifully without the shame
I shall be name, foam Flo wreck, the one who couldn’t be tame  
We only heard of people, after they are gone,
Peace be with you, peace be still
Peace came after, where was the peace when you need it most

**there is a very tiny cracks  in which another world begins and ends  Slavko Mihalic  quote

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

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

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

Along with our wildest fantasy
My premonitions was I being lonely

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

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

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

An uneducated woman clings to a young lad’s side
He woo her, he romance her
in six month time he took her for his bride

on the honeymoon in the heat of the night
in the wooded  house lid by only the street lights

he saw her for whom she was: as she lay there
a thing as cold as ice, without any care

he consummate the marriage like a hasty
frighten, laid back  hare:

he rose up before dark, and followed the cat
as its sat on his grandfather old front door mat

he wonder why he downgraded himself , no ecstasy  
was it for lust or love, *** or sympathy

how could he take her for his bride,
and cling to her side,

Not knowing she was cold and sexless

A relationship like this can be painful
but not necessarily hopeless

**For Love is blind but with the fleshly eye
,
He was so wrong. today she is colder than ever

For obvious reason:
There was once a lady name Annie
A very loveable, respectable Nanny
Her only wish was to become a poet
Without getting the terrible headaches
Until, she discover her grammar was uncanny
The beautiful tone of the poetess seems waspish:
According to the urban dictionary:

Once there was love
That left a light feeling, in one’s heart
It keeps us cheerful, even as ones recites bad hip hop lyrics.
Now it’s leaves a bad taste in one’s mouth
It came in from nowhere: out of left fields:

Ones can still pretend to like swimming in the winter time
Where bathing suits are 75% off the original prices:
In the Y.M.C.A the water is still in the swimming pools:
Ones’ ear is blocked with swim plugs:

Another problem, another loss of the game
Because, it’s still twenty below on the outside:
One’s heart misses a beat for the hundredth times
Warm body, cold hand and feet: not a good treat
Once there was love:
Now it's the emptiness of perception mode:

I dream of a street I once resided on
An old dwelling, with galvanize fencing
A main street, with poor street lightings
I wake longing to be back there,
I remember the country, but not the heartaches,

Where I use to live and where am I now
Its poetry, it a google map, it history,
How did i get from there to here?

Once again it poetry, it was a drastic move
How i comes and goes in my dream of being there
Not the dwelling, not the whispering of the trees,
Nor the shortage of water, but the freedom of being me..
“Freedom is doing a job that I love. Not because I have to do it, but because I love doing it.” Quote
I just finish watching another Netflix movie.. About families
Unauthorized living: some of the plots could have been better
But, I enjoy the main characters, in comparisons to mine

Daniel was funny, too rich to be happy, too stupid to know how to live
He gives his bodyguards two thousand dollars just to see who **** was bigger,
To stupid to know how to live
Too rich to be happy:
A character like him needs to live on my street,
In that dwelling on the main street, without his daddy’s billions:

Being rich doesn’t stop one from being a *****,
Those sisters proven that in the movie:
A man will always be a dog, with his sniffing,
With my findings, Beautiful women suffers
more than ugly women do..
once in a while allow your mind to take you home
a place where you felt safe. During these ugly times:

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.

When  the African lion roar ferociously in the early morning
I have no other choice, but to tamed the beast
The Goddess within respond with a purr! Purr!
A little teases, a little smile, a little laughter,
Suddenly, the greatest natural gift—of ******* joy
  my secret desire fulfilled.

A little nod to Carl Sandburg

Blast through oh moon of summer!

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

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

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

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

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

Funerals for him is killing loneliness
He sets the alarm clocks in time for the announcements:
If familiarize with the names of the dearly departed:
he lights up like the light on Broadway:

The dearly departed is at rest: his struggles with reality,
of how the world runs: is unsettling:

the funerals arrangements is always the same:
The tone of the announcers : slow and gloomy,

Black and white would always be the traditional attires,
and the hymn ash to ashes will echo in ones ears,
so long as the tears flow slowly throughout the services:

As they lower the leveler into the ground,
they are gone but not forgotten:  R.I.P

Poet and death titles,
Death shall have no hold on me,
Death shall not make me sad,
I refused to mourn death: and that's the truth about me

Drinking and eating after the services: Is it a good gesture?
From soak tissues to soggy appetizers: the crowd pleasers
From the wet cemetery: to the living rooms floors

Poets feel and see the irony:
As they sat in their black and white attire, eating and drinking
Mount Gay or cold Banks beers:

The colorful graveyard welcomes another tenant:
Funeral for him is killing loneliness
He set the alarm in time for the announcements.
Fear man, not the dead: we two are so incompatible

**Regardless of whom you are or where you’ve been
You can be what you want to be. W. cement

Yesterday I watch a movie that had ten episodes
There I was alone watching into the morning 3: 00 a.m.
It was more about ***, lies, and manuscripts set in the heart of Maine

Limitlessness,

It mirrors the limitlessness of the human condition?
Facebook is like our mirror, we are always looking into the mirror
Facebook, Facebook in cyber space, who is this fearless of us all

Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who is the fairest of us all:
How many likes, how many visitors, how many notifications,
How many request shall I confirm or delete in a day:  why must I translate?

To see how the other half lived or used to live: juggling with the human behavior
I am running out of space to stored my poems, but my word kept coming

**Isaiah 55:11
so My word that proceeds from My mouth will not return to Me empty, but it will accomplish what I please, and it will prosper where I send

Today of all days I am dividing my tears into sections,

With each moment, with each tear drop and snuffle I makes

The paper tissues will always thread,  

crumbling signs some mishaps in life

surely, cannot be mended;



Yesterday was your birthday,  

Today it's my revelation, of life, (my life)

It seems lately, that I have taken a new route,

This road definitely is not paved with gold.



God truly bless heroes; he never fails me yet!

But, for sure I have encountered some obstacles,

Empathy, or just plain stupidity,  

I am an empath, I never thought I was this kind of person

As we grow older, it's so true that we see life in a different setting

the lows, the in-between and the high moments.

My so intensity, emotions, as they rise,  

and as they drop to low frustrations tolerance, I see red

Today, I need my ginger shots: who cares if it is unhealthy?



Today of all days I am dividing my tears into sections,

With each moment, with each tear drop and snuffle I makes

The paper tissues will always thread, crumbling signs of

some mishaps in life that surely cannot be mended.

Does anybody care about the upcoming presidential election this year?

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

I’m going to kiss your lips,
they are cold and taste like the word America)Quote)*
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I am going to say curry, turmeric, ginger and, garlic
The secret to one’s health:
the true radiant of loving ones’ body:
Like this secret place in my mind
The Gardens at Marqueyssac, Vézac, France.(relaxing)

I’m going to make love to you like the internet explorer
Two words Private mode: just to quench the thirst (even though)
It wiser to separate the two, business and pleasure
One word complication: never bed your business partner (unless)
If you can pulled it off like my heroine McKenzie Bezos (go for it)

I’m going to exam your tockley,
It’s sinful, and deadly, like the  initials S.T.D
I am going to end here with a prayer,
Asking for guidance, and Lysol sprays:


Dark Poem

Her eyes were wide open: she spoke with confident
The sun shines bright through the open window
That looks directly to the boardwalk:

I tried not to stare directly at her lower parts
But once I look 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,

I stood there as a poet with a pen. Gasping, sighing
She fights for air; I fumbled for words of expression:
To report back to Jack Kevorkian:
Billing above care: day in and day out:
Was on displayed: there that day
Her hands reach for the oxygen wired,
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:

Goodbye vanity
I was never in love with him:
Oh, no you departing fading days,
When would I see you again?

Your morning sunlight, your evening breaks
I long for summer days once more,
Stress, depression and the holiday’s mood will fade
The aching heart will adjust,
As it reject the love of a mortal:
I will love myself more, and more

But, like a child on Christmas morn
Tigger and I would be glad when Christmas is over:
We relived it through the eyes of our
Offspring: every year as it comes,
Another sibling to cherish,
Another moment to say to a stranger
Merry Christmas, seasoning greeting,
The happiest wouldn’t last

But the tears will rolled,
As the sun goes down on Christmas Eve
And yet and yet and yet another mistletoe
And where are we?
Back to square one…

Good grief

You barely made it through the work day
Listening to the sound of the bed and chair alarms  
From the time you start the shift
Until you finish it. They just wouldn’t sit down

A chemical imbalance in their brains,
We kept getting a paycheck and
We kept on giving it to them. Those awful drugs,
Sometimes it works. Sometimes it don’t
They just wouldn’t sit down.

Mr. Steven Wallace,
I am going to end this hopefully with your blessing
When a brain that have been addled by boozes and drugs
fallen from the socket for a period of time

**Sit Beside you...
What is all this?
I know how furiously their hearts is beating

Watch the morning glories in the morning,
   Bow their little faces to the sunrise,
Dripping, tears that release a fragrant
From the flowered garden
See the crickets run for shelter,
As the sun rises in the early morn
See the grass sharpen its blade again
The stifling insect, see the butterflies swarm
White pedals, white ******, touch of innocent

Watch  as the morning glories said good morning
A sign of love, with its slender stems heart-shaped leaves
  and trumpet-shaped flowers of pink, purple-blue, magenta,
slowly bow their faces as the sun came out.

Those clock face braids,
Twelve, three, six and nine
Oh! How lovely they shine,
I love and hate them at the same time

The smell of the coconut oil from my hair
made my eyes water,
But, my scalp stay healthy and oily
that's been  all that matters to me
plus the warmth of her gentle hands

My aching back this pounding headache
Make me think of grandma’s hands,
but to think of her hands,
I had to think about her golden brown ***** cakes,
or those hands that soothe my aches and pain,
When I was a medically fragile child,


She would put a soft cheesy two layer of
Cheesecloth, melted onions, two banana leaves
Between the cloths, she would gentle placed it
  on my congested chest, and spoke to us as if
Vick vapor tropical cream, was minty ice-cream
Grandma’s hands, always had that added plus
She named her thick brown belt
“Do as I say, not as you do”
Because Nana might have to disciplined  you,

I held on to Grandma’s hand so tight,
until I was about twelve ,
It was sad day for me when
she passed on to another world
Nana if you can hear me,
I am still holding, and holding tight
To those wonderful memories we once shared.
Elfriede A.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She had her own signature scent,
A lasting aroma, that lingers in every corner of her home
As the strong winds picked up the scent,
and move it quite a distance.

She carefully prepare the mixture from the earth
Cuss ,kuss grass, Jasmine, rose buds and roots,
Before she prepare the mixtures with that special touch

Like a fine wine from the winery,
“One more drop of Rosemary oil, she would say
This would make the scent last for eternity,

Old Granddad he would make silly jokes,
His word usages, madam chemist, a witch with a spoon,
But in the end, she would always made a special potion for him
We would carefully select the flaky mahogany woods shaving,
with combinations of fresh vanilla leaves with extracting oil with oils
Those homemade perfumes from flowers had lots of potential.

Granddad hand craft the wooded bottle stoppers with his chisel,
It was a joy to watch, the old Irish typhoon working and smoking his pipe
Old Alan baffler was Nana nickname for him

She would scold and speak harshly to us
for touching the those colorful luring bottles
“Don’t open those bottles, you malicious children
Else a witch would appear: She would often say,
For me, my nana was an old chemist,
with old decade’s wooden sticks.
Preparing the mixtures like a fine wine,

I am forever grateful for those memories
I should have follow in her footsteps,
Her secret potions, her gift,
Is worth millions of dollars today
Looking back on yesteryears , good parenting
and good memories

Grief Unmeasured

I measure every grief I meet—
knowingly, they’re all related to me.
Some smaller, some larger,
but all carry weight.

Yesterday, a friend’s text arrived:
“Her daughter was shot in the head.”
The words formed a puzzle I needed to unravel:
What, why, where?
I kept asking.

Death came too soon for this young woman.
My thoughts turned to my own children—
why must mothers bury their offspring?
Black-on-black violence, a painful reality.

I reached out to my friend,
but she refused my texts and calls.
Understandable—the shock is overwhelming.

Will pain ever grow old?
Will humanity cease its violence?
Or will weapons persist indefinitely?

Why does existence hurt so much these days?
Will we run out of comforting words?

This morning’s headlines were grim:
“A young mother abandons her newborn.”
Heartless? Perhaps not.
Fear for the child’s life drove her actions.

What future awaits that abandoned soul?
What trials lie ahead?

Emily Dickinson once wrote:
“The meaning of life is just to be alive.
It is so plain and so obvious and so simple.
And yet, everybody rushes around in a great panic
as if it were necessary to achieve something beyond themselves.”

In passing, we find solace—
a piercing comfort on our journey through Calvary.

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.

The things we grow tired of were the same things
we once love and adore, in our relationships
Their faces, their smell and their voices
What a turned off: what a misconstruction
these little things turn out to be....

He called my poem
Wise and tropical
The heat of the Caribbean:

The tongue of the goddess
Years of eating so much
Fishcakes lace with Guinea Pepper Seeds
Ginger beer and mauby bark drink
Top with lemonade and pomegranates
remains in my blood stream:

When I dream, I dream
and react like a chosen prophets
So, I spread my words like a modern Moses

Message in my poems, are
Like ashes, they can’t be bottle
They have to be scattered
Throughout the internet,
Around the globe: global feeds,
Depending on the poet’s pen
The archives is not the place for them to be stored

I once saw my mother sob
As she kneel in the sugar cane field
The tears was for her children future,
These days I sob because of a bad dream
Our American dream is no longer valid,
a beacon of hope without a definition
for our future:

Tupac saw the comings
In his dreams,
Suddenly, the silencer
Silence him,

Martin Luther king, had a dream
A silencer silent him
Apparently, John Lennon was getting closer to the truth
he too was silent

He called my poems
Wise and tropical,
I think of them as written transmission:

Band- aid  doesn't fix bullet holes
people **** each other.

People reached for the weapon
and pulled the trigger
people **** each other.  Why?

http://www.vox.com/2015/6/23/8833529/mental-illness-mass-shootings

sweet and sour plums the
fruits all covered  in black ants
  an intense fragrance