Young people,
sit restless and anxious,
wandering nervously,
sweats all over,
armpits, foreheads, shoulders
people late for this, for that,
to there, for them, who or her or him,
tapping desks, thumping feet
staring on their cell phones
burning their behind against the chair’s friction
making money with their hands on their chin
Hot tea turned cold
vacant chairs awaiting
empty stares and swell sighs
at the unwavering Exit sign.
Sometimes feeling the grief of waiting
and hearing dripping anticipation.
Never gives up.
Ten years of waiting
in the same little tea house
serving the same drinks to
different people; for ten year
finding — and on a Sunday evening
a boy asks for my name.

peace
please



private property..
intruder hurtled over
seeking who knows what
screaming obscenities

perfect pitch..
find little solace
but by going within
hide well beneath veneers

possible perfection..
but with one
so* very far away
loss near calamitous

pardon presumption..
get over discomfort
pick up sad face
work with it

passable poetry..
may reveal a layer or two
if the inner eye ready
shove preconceived away

puerile pretence..
try to prove points
only to efface the truth
lose bits of the light

petty prisons..
all just deadly excuses against living
get locked in by the self
unlock the cell, throw key away

please..
peace



S T, 12 June 2013

Hannah's tearful diatribe,
Swept up to the heavens,
In rivulets of threes, and cascades of sevens,
However ******, by the high priest's jibe;

But Jah's lines are never jammed,
You don't even have to port,
Billions of supplications may have rammed,
But rest assured, you make up his every thought;

By HIS design,
Daily tears may now resign,
Two worlds, all, in one birth,
Fervent prayers doth berth;

Bundles of awesome joy,
Jah gives, double, a reason,
One adorable girl, and an awesome boy,
Two worlds, and a happy season.