They live a life of dissipation,
Take up space in every nation;
Denounce Science deliberations,
Hide the truth through litigation;
They emit no illumination,
Preach an altered fact narration.
They support, by oration,
The Elephant's abdication,
And neglect of obligation.

     They won't wear masks.
     Or wash their hands;
     Won't give six feet
     In their wasteland.

     They cry foul,
     They cry hoax,
     But they won't cry
     When you die, Folks.

(1)
in house work play hubs
locked flooding storms shredding
Wi-Fi future set

(2)
Zoom Slack Mouseion
locked gyre shift flagged
Wi-Fi future set

Life is multiple games of palace
You do the best you can
with the hand you're dealt
and it all comes down to
the three cards face down in front of you

Some say palace is game of luck
but I'd argue there's more to it
there is strategy in how you
set yourself up to succeed

Only you can put yourself
in the best possible position
to deal with those buried cards in front of you

Sometimes those cards are 3's and 4's,
if you're lucky they'll be 2's or K's
but you won't know until you have to flip them

Othertimes the odds are against you
the best way to combat a poor hand is more strategy.
Unfortunately, strategies aren't always easy to find
the more you practice, the better you get.

Eventually, you'll know and perfect them all.
With all the strategies up your sleeve,
statistics would say your odds of winning are the highest
While it's still possible you may fail, the likelihood
is so much lower.

Life is like multiple games of palace.
You may not know the cards face down in front of you,
but after perfecting the strategies
the likelihood of you winning is so very high

Fearing not for other's lifE
Ushing through the aiR
Triggering the impromptU
Ugly microscopic threaT
Rooted here in our milieU
Enduring a long face-ofF

Windstorm blowing through
suspending the days
Irish summer ending I shiver
at the darkness spreading
the white wisp morphing into black cloak

The fig tree stands branches wild
new sprouts shaking
second season raspberries
crushed on the wall
the tomato vine falls heavily to the ground

Sprigs jerking I sway
trunk holding fast until it fractures
I collapse and the fruits splatter
sap leaking I wipe my cheeks
flustered by my syrupy hands I stare

a sound a shout I straighten
the burgeons call

In the beginning we were strangers
Because we came from different places
From homes both far and near our new home
But with time we grew a bond
A bond that makes us a family
A family with many differences
Differences in religion, beliefs, political ideas and so on
But our bond transcends all

The common goal and the familiarity spirit joins our umbilicus to one mother
At times we fight for each other
Other times, we fight each other
That is the beauty of a family
Isn't it?

Today, we're not gathered under the same roof but we're still together
Our beloveds are close to our hearts than to our arms
We long to once again meet and laugh our loneliness and troubles away
Then tell the stories of our lives during the unexpected break to each other in flesh

We pray to once again have the chance to chase academic success again, hand in hand because our exit is at hand
But till then, we're far apart even though together

By technology we still see each other
Hear one another's voice and at times feel the emotion in our individual lives regardless the distance

We know we have a lot to achieve
So we do no relent on our efforts to advance
That is why we still connect to learn

Some are taking the opportunity during the break to develop their talents and expand their knowledge in other fields
Fields including music, agriculture, marketing, technology and the arts.

A few took the opportunity to legally unite with their life partners and we did nothing less than to celebrate in happiness
Because that is what families do
Isn't it?

One day, we would go our separate ways
But for now, we're together even though far apart

looming future locked
my psyche shies away from
with sights of the past

its funny
now that we all hide our faces
(like they were ever real at all)
that everyone seems to care what we look like
when the real masks were inside
and they've been there the whole time

It all began with a simple search for a cure.
But tomorrow is filled with fear for sure
Crocodiles and snakes will now need to lure--
Who will go to jail next to keep the nation “secure”?

The Filipino ferocity is finely defined.
We will always fight until the end of the line.
For the justice, we’ll charge then add a finel
Everything that has started, finds an end in design.

What would the past “terrorist” Jose Rizal say
If he knew the elected far from duty astray?
Would he join the gagging nation in this age and day
For rights and freedoms nabbed like thieves all the way?

Politicians aren’t gods to be expected of mercy.
So we’ll do all the work and then make them see.
Do they witness and laugh, lay back, take it easy?
Are their souls still present or just absentee?

Do they not hear all the people who sing
In the Kawit-like pride at independence’s first ring?
Where now is the candidate who won by promising
That he’ll be fine in hell if we were paradise-living?

Everyone who was chained will meet freedom too.
Just so if peace was the goal, real and true.
Won’t stand anymore for a sky in dark hue.
There’s a change coming in the way the wind blew.

Don’t walk away, and keep your eyes open.
Listen to what was spoken, read up on what is written.
History will remember all our actions taken,
If to God, people, or nation, your loyalty was given.

Off the coast of the Bronx
at the western end of Long Island
before ships landed: the home of the Siwanoy tribe
once the training ground of the 31st U.S Colored Infantry Regiment
according to records, a prisoner of war camp in 1864
later referred to as  "Potter's Field" or "City Cemetery"
then a quarantine station for yellow fever patients
as well as a women's psychiatric hospital & a tubercularium
on the west side of the islands
between an empty 4-acre space lived Solomon Riley's vision of black coney island during Jim Crow  
after the stay and departure of Pheonix house
Hart Island
now is the final resting ground for New York City's covid-19 victims
whose family could not or did not hire a private funeral director and so they were labeled "unclaimed"