The moon is big and red in the sky tonight,  
And this month, again, your body bleeds from between your thighs.  
Why is it so hard to create a life?  
A silent futile fight.

A baby, a family of three,
A new branch to our family tree.
I wish you to be a mother, and me, our baby’s father.  
But the wait only adds more weight,  
Heaviness and stress.

There is nothing wrong with your body,  
So please do not blame yourself.
If a god exists, then in her time,  
She will give us the gift of a new life,
Blessed with happiness and health.

My love for you will always be strong,  
And I will always be here for you.
With every tear and every cry,  
I believe that one day,  
We will have our time
To bring a beautiful baby into our life.

When we meet at night.
I, moon and Stars we started to glow
The river and wind find its pace & flow
While moving to the sea slow

Nature wants a pause
But destiny likes  different cause
Why can't I have you?
Because we have different paths?

The stars whisper tales of fate,
Yet our hearts yearn, though it's late.

The moon, a silent witness above,
Reflects the ache of untold love.
The river winds, the winds embrace,
Yet we’re bound by time and space.

~ encore un autre, inspiré par Sally B.~

another poem excised from an
interdepartmental message from
The Dept  of Poets, (Global), a
ridiculous thot mine, deserving of
removal, remorse and regret,
(modern human’s woke 3 r’s)
nonetheless deserved of exegesis,
mainly because I think so…

Surficially, I comprehend that of the bones,
of the billions of those who have gone to
their where~ever, if could speak. we would
require a huge commitment to building out
our cell phone networks, the best comm
tool, for portability between differing
dimensions, times and spaces

let us cut to the chase (thank god),
my bones shall be without a doubt
return to a granular dust, my minerals
contributing to some future breakfast
cereal, thus assuring my recirculated
inspiration for generations to come(?),
acknowledging that my “gifts” are
the product of apriori Jews who wandered
this planet, forever rootless and semi-
displaced by their haters for reasons
that have nothing to do with reason

By way of my gratitude that you have read
so far, hopefully to continue, let me assure
you that this P.  will not trend, nor spit or spot
or high lighted, as it’s worth is as fleeting as my bones, when one dwells on the size of space expanding and the time & space
continuum

that disclaimer claimed, we breathe easier,
and I happier, and now at last to the meat
of the matter:

My poems will wither, and eventually their
ions will be erased when the internet servers
undergo the many purges that yet will come
(better this than purging people)

yes, my ego’s cells, which one of you will
no doubt will imbibe and perhaps????
imbue, may actually reappear in a newness,
in a refreshing refreshment, that some Believers will think is absolutely brand new
(which it won’t be), for the new treads are on
the old treads, only now, dug a little deeper,

and I, in my ionosphere, inside my cells
yet within you, will muse amusedly,
“there is nothing new under the sun” (1)

but the sun will be shining and that is
good enough for all of us

Nov. 23
9:04 am
nyC

I sit by myself, with much disdain,
With only my mind, how inhumane.
Not for the cliché but for her touch,
And I think of her simply too much.

What’s come over me? This is not fair!
I think too much on those pretty thoughts,
Her lips, her nose, the smell of her hair.
Inside my heart, there lie the small knots.

For I’m sensitive to love’s ***** bites,
And these abrasive, yearning of nights.
How can I stand it? Must I submit?
It only happens when the moon is lit.

When the hours grow, a bit distant.
When time stretches so, I can’t see her.
That’s when it starts being persistent.
Then it strikes fast like a saboteur.

Venus or Cupid? Who to accuse?
I hope that it’s not all lost in vain.
Though you might think it, I’m not confused.
This is what I call love rotting the brain.

You smelled the roses
used them till Withered
and toss aside
for a new one
All you did was
temporary love.

You like new,
Young and
Shiny
But then again
You get bored
And opt
for a new one.
All you did was
temporary love.

You sing songs
Of love and
Praises
Yet you avoid
pain and Fear
of Risking it all
All you ever did was
Temporary love.