1
An ant rants
when left behind
by the greedy mates
who carry together
for the rainy days,
a luscious carcass
that was a grasshopper
(with hopes and dreams
that kept it hopping
not long before)
"******* all,
they wouldn't wait
even for a moment
for those less inclined
to greed and avarice"
The ant fallen by the
wayside frets and fumes
burst out  in flames
with rightful indignation
and anger.
2.
A ghost pants
while climbing the
steep gravel path
leading to the cemetery
he chose to visit that day,
"***** *******
couldn't make the gradient
little more convenient,
for a weary ghost
compelled to visit
burial grounds at
lonely midnight hours
that too by foot"
prattles the agitated ghost!
3.
A gentle wind chants
effusively like
a prophet,about the
nature of all things
material, in the past
present and future.
"Nothing lasts for ever my dear,
except pure consciousness
the absolute,that manifests as
all that we experience,here
in this transit camp we call life,
fly, fly till you embrace
nothingness, the essence,
on the wings of the winds
of change, reach the destination
beyond the limits of body and mind"
4.
The ant to which was revealed
the futility of illusory existence
lets go it's chase,knowing
it doesn't make sense
for a carcass to be, soon
to chase another.
He takes a new path
decides to go it alone
all the way beyond darkness.
A firefly he becomes,
liberation personified,
Enlightenment suddenly lights
the dark undulating sea
of ignorance gathered through lives.
5.
The ghost, (an other name of past)
sits on a tombstone relaxing,
decides to dump the routine
of haunting, stalking the weak
midnight visitations et al.
He grows wings at will
dons the garb of a dark angel,
on his way to gloomy light,
the next step to peace.
6.
Swishing  wind, chimes it's message
"This moment has already gone
hang on to the consciousness
(that fill all the vacuum of universe)
till hitching on to the moment next,
and if in the mean golden time
one can somersault,
to the absolute beyond,
go for it
if having a deep yen
to be immortal.

Anger exists.

This giant mirror reflecting past.

Rarely is justice blind
When it comes to color,
And I pick up the bitter facts from
The daily reports and place them
Next to my embattled soul.
I sink deep into my chair,
Pen in hand and wonder what
The hell a brown man can write
about the black man's experience.
I conflict with my poetical asphyxia,
Life isn't all love and wonderful sorrow,
I stare at the cold reality,
I believe if i wrote about anything
Else this chair would be a grave,
He wrote about flowers they said,
He wrote about dreams they said.

But no,
Those dead men have no words,
They bare their skin and died for it,
A murderous prowl on the ebony
Children with benevolent excuses
As to why it's legal,
They laugh so hard behind closed
Doors and fist bump in secret,
Stubborn roots dictate the taught
Generational hatred,
They find fruit with their hate
And split men from color refreshing
The mirror, reflecting reflections.

And when all hell is broken loose,
A people's voice is heard
Wit windswept ears,
Like God and the first word,
We will hear it only once,
The avenging fires burn in the hearts,
Though hate with its unending roots
Creeps into the darkness
Against the atrocious scythe of ignorance,
We will remember a voice.

"Black lives exist."
Yes they do.
As does hatred
and ignorance.

For whom does this poet speak?

It's crazy to be this close to you
And still be angry at the space in between.
Maybe this is why people marry--
To be so close, there's only one of the two of us.

On my own terms,
  I lived my life
Giving and taking,
  both day and night

On my own terms,
  I lived my life
Some then mistaken,
  some often right

On my own terms,
  I lived my life
Last right of refusal,
  the one holding tight

On my own terms,
  I lived my life
The lows though not many,
  the feelings they wrought bright

On my own terms,
  I lived my life
Words ever radiant,
  the music so fair

On my own terms,
  I lived my life
The sweetness of children,
  my soul they ensnared

On my own terms,
  I lived my life
The darkest of moments,
  their message to share

On my own terms,
  I lived my life
A voice though unchosen,
  inside me declares

On my own terms,
  I lived my life
As the days grew short,
  and the visitors came

On my own terms,
  I lived my life
Their voices cry out,
  now calling my name

On my own terms,
  I lived my life
One verse was enough,
  no time to explain

On my own terms,
  I lived my life
My final breath,
  a lasting refrain

On my own terms,
  I lived my life
The money fleeting,
  any fame now gone

On my own terms,
  I lived my life
A 5-Star boardinghouse,
  no curtains drawn

On my own terms,
  I lived my life
With arms open wide,
  and the peace to move on

On my own terms,
  I ended my life
All that I’ve written,
—turned into song

(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2016)

With your bottom resting on me
you roam the world of poetry
display spectrum of your poetic mood
ever bothered about this piece of wood?

I hold your frame over day and night
weight of your spirit soaring to height
your struggle to find in all only good
ever bothered about this piece of wood?

I rest your arms on my armrest
for your comfort I do my best
see you don't fall when in deep brood
ever bothered about this piece of wood?

For years my touch has kept you at peace
carried you safe seated with ease
when empty yawns the space I stood
is it then you would realize worth of my wood?

Begin here
The forbidden hope of the poor,
The firmament under shimmery
Skies sailing dreams on the moons
Glass light.
Begin now,
What dreams may come
I become many things,
I am the man who loves,
However I am also the man
That hurts from the same source.
And I can't help being all the things
A heart desires,
Two hopes on my chest
And soon I am the world
With my solar ways and my
Lunar thoughts,
Moonlighting on the precipice
Of the promised,
The fugitive love that conquered
The momentum,
I proclaimed myself the undefeated,
And I,
Here and now
Become a bird
With a song of  flight
And all the treetops
Like a sea of greenery.....
Listen, my wings flapping,
I alone will dream and conquer,
The infinite hope inside
That yearns for my humanity,
And that makes me king,
For hope is the glory of all men.