A journey to the past
 
My spirit felt restless in pain
In drowning fear,tis heart's dream be slain
Souls of Love in tis world found few
My joy melt like early morn due
laid in bed my eyes search for sleep
memories of hatred and hurt made me weep
pains of past refused to let go
A feeling lost, to the end a journey slow
My heart longed to reach the past
Holding hard the joy to last
Times in my dreams i cry for thee
Only to be waken by darkness around me
I cried for the past to let me go
I seeketh the answers in starlights distant glow
many a thoughts and mayhem in tis mind
Tis a curse to my loved ones I bind
Lost are they from tis life
Fate a thief of joy in disguise
Tis heart tormented like a stormy night
I take my steps a journey in past to find some light
 
Words of my friend bought peace to my heart
to seek the answer a journey to start
my bag with cloth and food. a whistle to start 
A beast on rails steaming hot,my time machine to the past
Seated by the window.Fading concrete to fields green
the breeze on my face a journey begin to my dream
My thoughts travell back to the days of my childhood
with my father walking through the wood
his voice of wisdom close with nature
Ever to linger in my dreams of the future
through the rice field the silver brook
pictured in my heart a printed book
the sound of men and women with fruits to sell
wake me up from the memories spell
My time machine a familiar sound metal on wheel
the window my theater to the world like a movie reel
times i fell back to my memories past
Till I saw the familiar station in memories to last
I pick my bag and my heart with joy to beat
Will I find my memory among the familiar aroma of sweet meat

The night in the inn my sleep lost in journeys pain
With the hope of day break my past to gain
The sun in the morn yet to shine its ray
I start to the bus stop  a familiar way
decades past since i laid my foot here
yet the ways to my field so fimiliar
I walk towards the gate changed to a different name
Yet the house and trees stood the same
I wait for times few searching to find a soul of past
with none in sight I turned my back time changes fast
A voice I heard , A dream or a memories trick yet loud and clear
An old and graying man in my memories vague yet walking near
with the name my father calls his old eyes searching my face
Cry not my child ,I knew not tears hath covered my eyes
The old gardener decades eight remembers me his old eyes bright
His stride as of young familiar clothes washed to white
He held my arm strong and sure led me through the garden with memories ever
The old house stood its ground faded paint memories a burning fever
We sat down in an old familiar place the old man spoke of days old
My dreams etched in this house my heart with joy untold

His tales carried on of my father and family his love to the land
Tales of fishing in the brook and pains of honey bee sting,a painted picture by a magic wand
Time stood still the young had moved to city with lights bright
Yet with time their hearts dimmed and the ways of old faded out of sight
The old bike gleamed in the sun In tis I learnt my first lesson to cycle
we ride it through the trees green to the brook on the edge of fields circle
With my legs in water My I felt as child the days past yet never lost
The old man with stories fresh changing masters and rising cost
The sun burned hot in the noon yet through the filed a breeze so cool
The sweet fragrance of lemon my spirits soar tis to leave I am a fool
Lunch in plantain leaf spicy dish with meat the old man a better cook
Served with love with a proud words tis the son of his lord a child of the brook
An hour of cycle ride to the mountain mother with her silver tress
A water fall painted with rainbow on the rock drizzling droplets sprayed my dress
Hours I stood under it watch full eyes of the old man to him iam just a child
We walked and talked among the natures path the mountains call me to beauty wild
The day end with the sun sinking low we ride back with a breeze to follow
We sat to watch the fireflies glow tis must be eden my happiness flow
The days tiredness ebbing with the local brew tis in earth a heavens part
In his words I felt his love, TIs garden after death his spirit his heart

I start to return to the inn in the fire light tear drops shine
He held my hand with a promise to ask to return back in my days fine
My heart wants to utter words million yet in silence I stared
Yet I took his hand with a promise to keep an oath sacred
To the spirit of my father Ill come there again 
A love of an old gardener in his memory my heart remain
I walk back to the inn my spirit with joy boundless
To my friend I spoke yet my words scarce with smiles countless
I slept with a lightened heart with dreams without pain
Tis old gardner his love for the land a memory of a child to gain
The new begin my heart longed to see the old man one more time 
yet the call of the world and promises in tis heart chime
Time to pack my bag to board the machine to present The green flag wave and a whistle sound
My heart refuse to leave my dreams found
The life of the old man strong decades eight
A heart of gold who won the time passing fight
My promise to return to the garden of my childhood 
My vision to share it with the unfortunate of tis world
My spirits in peace my eyes watching the window of nature
My heart hopes for my dreams of the future

I hear one note
I close my eyes
I hear one beat
I start to smile
I'm not just hearing
I'm also listening
How could such fimiliar words
have such different meanings
I might be percieving the sound
but I am also giving one's attention
Not only the sense of hearing
but the sense of feeling
it hits my core
chills from all of my toes
to the tip of my nose
to the back of my neck
from a shoulder to another
I let out a sound
Just to realize its over


now I feel nothing

i am
settling
floating
suspended in the unsustainable
adrift in fire
and blood
missing parts
the predecessors,
victims,
of unholy theistic ritual

being whole
was a luxury
oneness
a virtue
taken for granted
in the box
we lived and grew
the comfort in the chill
of a fimiliar place,
communities
cracked apart and tossed
separated and forgotten
the box was gone
and elsewhere was hell

to be thrown to the lukewarm sea
facing the uncertain panic of
no more
in no time
we disappeared,
used and consumed
one more brief, familiar chill
stripped of the flesh,
i am

small

For our own fairy tale lies fairly far within ourselves
And for the sake of bringing it out, we take the books off the shelves
We recite the words with older voices equipped with new vices
Like a fimiliar phrase,we remember them, yet can't find it's fit
When change backs into the same corner, well it's a circle that begins and ends with our names
And for the sake of something to cry about, we find our rules created by someone else,
We remember their place and order, yet their structure lies word of mouth

the sound of the suttle rainfall and the fear of the dispiteful thunder haunt me in my mind....
the taunting shadows cast by the moonlight fill the back of my mind with the thought of you....
the puddle on my doorstep is begging me to let it inside....
but i think to myself before i make a remark of any sort.... the thunder booms after the long pause of wonder..
as i walk in the rain i pick out each lightening bolt about twenty feet away with the recognition of the danger that i am now faced with.... i lay on the ground as if i was waiting for that moment where the lightening travels through my very body putting me in this strange stat where i fall up and breathe through my hands; everytime i hold your hand it cuts off my breath.... i become fragile and courageous enough to squeeze tighter and tighter. i awaken from my daze by the sound of thunder.. it sounded so sweet in my mind as it reeved like your harleys engine.... so smooth and like you; quick to react.... the rain is starting to burn my skin as i start to run.... the once fimiliar scenery turns distorted and cold.... im back on my doorstep.... you're gone again.... the storm goes on but i pay no mind to it any longer.... i make my way inside.. i unfold my bedspread and turn the fan on high.. i go lay down in the bed you used to tuck me into.. close my eyes and get ready to see you in my dreams.... 6/13/49 - 6/12/08

a fimiliar ray of warm sunlight settles on your face
it doesn't really matter where we are anymore
you feel like home,
and a love that will last
for the rest of my days

sudden anger and pride
cause us to give each other too much space.
don't you realise,
distance was one of our biggest mistakes?

the best is yet to come, but nothing good's come yet -
i wait for better,
until after the sun sets and the clock breaks.

dream state is now where we meet -
with unclear beginnings and endings
of what we speak.

illusions are uncontrollably building up in my mind.
god knows,
i'm just trying to put the past behind.

encounters have become ever so brief,
you forgot your home and
i forgot how to breathe

Poked out of the dark,
to reach out to you.
A fimiliar stranger

Radiating from my words
You saw not me
You saw a ghost

Silent stranger
I wish you well
As you traverse
Your own hell

They turned me into a monster.
Nothing is fimiliar about my bones.
My heart is far past turning to stone.
Why is there so much woe?
So as I try to dodge their bullets that they never cease to fire,
I’ll keep trying to pick myself up, before my life gets too dire.