East...and west, are we?
north, and south?.....maybe...
we were nurtured with love,
our eyes and our minds opened
to different isms that helped shape our
values...we were brought up, bearing our
folks' customs, traditions and principles...
we have different faiths...some practice...some
don't...some, don't even subscribe, yet, survive.

we have dry and monsoon season...in
other parts, pleasant weather, cold winds,
and in some parts, snow.....turning to ice

we are  a mix of white skin, seeking for a tan,
and brown-skin, hiding from the sun;
one's night, is the other's day,
there are surfers among us, playing with the waves,
there at the cusp...gambling...daring fate...
there are those who hide from silent freezing winters,
finding warmth and comfort in long hot summers...

countless points of comparison,  
yet, we've something beautiful in common,
a connection of feelings, of words...our poetry,
flowing like blood, through our veins...endlessly
feeding, fueling our hearts and minds, with classy,
themes....sometimes bold, mushy, or....sassy...
no set skeds...we do it even through adversity...

we write......

we tell about our escape from life's banalities,
mindscapes, landscapes immersed in frivolities

yet, we await the marvels of each  morning we wake,
remembering gratitude, in every breath we take...

years have passed us by,
still, plays this soft music that mollifies
and inspires......heard only by you and i
prodding us, through hours, of day or night

while you exist in your own part of the world,
as i, in my hot, humid cosmos, long for cold.
::::::::::::::::::::::::::


Sally


© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
    May, 19, 2019

-
Shaping molten sin into wrought iron ******.
Rusted rivet's sparks sail down the spiral staircase
and scatters like fireflies on the stone.
Guitars scream as they lead the band to slaughter,
thinking they own the streets like Al Capone.

Molten metallic music with a razors edge
mollifies the faithful like mutton to the ledge.
Mayhem ensues with a sonic boom as
bolts of rock & roll illuminate the room.

We're heading toward a revolution,
we always heard you wanted one.
They bought the lie of evolution,
burnt their skin waiting for the Son.

It's just a heavy metal observation,
you allowed the lyrics to take their toll.
Today we see the damage is done,
the insane have unhinged their soul.

‘freedom is a state of mind’
Wars fought
Wars lost
Freedom gained
Freedom lost.
The mind is almost devoid of peace,
When a beast sits entrapped inside.
It is like two magnets of the same charge.
Conflicting and warring,
Trying to meet at a certain point.

Barbed wires of suppression
blunt knives of oppression
The head is a place of chaos
full of:
‘I’m guilty’ ‘No you are not’
‘I’m too proud’ ‘no you are not’
The oppressor just mollifies the pain of the suppressor
It is too weak to overcome it.
The head then bursts
And out flow tears, tears in a million shades
For they signify such different sorrowful tastes
The person, he sighs
An empty mind
Peaceful mind
War fought
War won
Freedom lost
Freedom *gained

"That Wicked Woman!"
Is a wicked utterance
From a wicked man
Clowning, who plan
To get every possible
& oblivious voter a fan!

A wicked man
Revoltingly believes
Women are wicked
Oblivious he is
Out to slaughter
His mother,sister
,wife and daughter !

What a trash
What a trash
A folly that leads
A great, all-accommodating
And democracy-upholding nation
To a lapse or a deadly crash!
A trash tarnishes image
While Hillary mollifies umbrage!

"I AM NOT afraid, i was born to do this" please, jehanne la pucelle--
here, humming, the constant
burn whilst he--inkspinner--mollifies and
****** ****** skin
I AM NOT
afraid--the hum, epauliere lying
heavy, cumbersome--my shoulders are broad and
moth eaten, trembling, waste;
mom, my canines hurt; i have to
show my teeth.
there are gauntlets in my skin, mom, licks of
fever-heat beneath my heels.
I draw the Weary longsword.
"I AM the drum." see: i too spit blood, raise the banner; are we the drum, all
you and i? watch the masses close in.
conflagration inferno round and round;
the sting of flesh, the weight,
the ache in my gums; the
drum, which GOD beats out HIS message please, mom, it
hurts. please, jehanne, it hurts please beg me BE NOT AFRAID

It’s often I feel
an unexplainable urge
to peel off this black veil
and sing a shirt dirge.
Uncage the palominos,
let them run free,
‘fore the black veil sordino
mollifies yours, truly.