Echoes of the Heart”

Within a man’s heart, myriad plans unfold, While in a woman’s, greatness seeks to hold. The world, like seas, stretches wide and vast, And water’s weight varies with hands’ size cast.

When love blooms deeper than mere mortal ties, A woman’s heart remains forever pure, skies Of divinity glimpsed by the pure in heart, Blessed souls who seek God in every part.

Yet love, a tempest, leads us astray, Toward unattainable shores, where we sway. Filtered photos veil longing smiles and grace, As poets weave emotion into every trace.

Misunderstood tones echo through our verse, A symphony of feelings, for better or worse. Trust wavers—can we surrender once more? Falling, yet fearing we’ll never rise ashore.

So, guard your heart, my friend, with care, For love’s slippery slopes await us there. 🌟

You only watch the news to find out
Where the con artist stands,
He opens his mouth and nonsense comes out
This is going to be my last poem,
this is going to be my last rant before casting my vote
and where this poem goes,
Probably, no other man has gone before,
Deep into the hearts of the American people

A politician needs the ability to foretell,
what is going to happen tomorrow,
next week, next month, and next year.
And to have the ability afterwards to explain why it didn’t happen
- Winston Churchill

With these two candidates all I am hearing leading up to the election
Is about missing e-mails conspiracy
Aggravated indecent assault,
Lawsuits and the fondling of other women’s *****

I can see Russia from my house, said Sarah Palin some time ago
I can foresee the paint peeling off the white house wall, in solidarity..
And where the grass is not greener on the other side
Is where the American would feel the full weight of democracy
in the  America political games,

I can see immigrant migrating and some departing daily
I can see Delta, JetBlue and other airlines keep making money
Last but not least do bear in mind…that

There are two things that are important in politics. The first is money, and I can’t remember the second
- Mark Hanna

What election has left us over the years, (divisions?)
Two and two doesn’t equal four any more in voting booths
Pulling the leveler, to cast ones votes doesn’t registered
Our candidates have already been chosen.
Our way of life is but a passing stain..(Permanent)
However, the flag of justice will wave either in mast
Or half-staff:

Elegy of the River and the Sea

For life and death are one,

like the river and the sea.

In grief, our tears taste different,

our ways of mourning unique.

You weep; I compose elegies.

My brother, high on marijuana,

the island battered by hurricane Beryl.

As the sea crashes upon the land,

seaweed lashes out like demons.

Are we prepared for this?

To whom it may concern,

do not call me early in the morning.

I am not yet awake for words.

Give me time to sip my coffee,

to savor the warmth of intimacy.

Let me read “Good Morning, Sunshine.”

For life and death are one,

like the river and the sea.

My daily poem whispers:

"Leave me alone in the morning

with my thoughts."

My mother outlived my father.

I aspire to outlive the sparrows.

In God, I entrust my life.

You shut me into your heart’s great void of silence. . .**

The nagging pain, the fiery blood:
My flame heart………….embalmed
Resentence, revenge to the one that hurt you:
What had love done for you?
What did you learn by saying?
“I love you, I love you
to those who were incapable of loving
Now, I dagger you, over and over,
Erasing the love, I once share with you
Love is a hurting thing,
Hate is a natural emotion,
My heart is no longer silence,
But it fears the unknown………..
What causes hatred.. Love
Where hatred does comes from poison of love

“Embrace and Release”

In the quiet of night, I pondered—
the art of severing ties, like pruning a tree.
The weakest links, once tightly bound,
now set free, like a maiden’s unclasped bra.

2024 dawns, a canvas for transformation.
Covid’s grip loosens, and clarity emerges.
Meltdowns yield to focus, tears to savings.
My *** life, like New York’s winter, chills.

Raw verses spill forth, unfiltered and true.
Yet my smile softens toward strangers,
and I find myself liking humanity anew.
Trust remains distant, a horizon to reach.

Biblical tales echo vulnerability—
the weaker devoured by the strong.
Have I surrendered my worth for fleeting moments?
No tears stain my words; they remain silent.

As I gaze upward, pondering thoughts,
my brain’s triad—forebrain, midbrain, hindbrain—
collaborates, yet sometimes drifts apart.
Do I know myself anymore? Today, I listen.

Goodbye, old lover; hello, new friends.
Life’s tides carry me forward,
and I embrace the journey, raw and unafraid.
May vulnerability be my strength, not my undoing.

Send me the pillow
That you dream on
Don't you know
That I still care for you*

Those sad lyrics. .
Those sad Sapp endearment
Now  it's  butch where
Is my alimony. .where is
The child support money.
Nothing last for ever.
Words,  words,  words,
Thank God I divorce you

Enough:

Enough of this of this up and down weather
It’s a gift, its giver backer: Its' Indian giver
it's April in December:

warm enough to walk without a jacket last Tuesday
The feel of the warmth against ones cheek
And today it the scarf tightly around ones neck

Enough to quiet the mind, enough to fret the spirit
When you find yourself staying indoors,
eating waffles, and playing checkers
then you know it’s that kind of injustices

watch the words that comes out
of your mouth,
when the rooms aren’t heated
then you thought about going mental ON........
the nippy wind whistle through the cracks,
and you wonder about the arthritis in your back

Immediately your thought turns to envelope
the rental receipts : so avoid that!
Desperate for the heat of the sun,
Feeling the effects, of a long dreary winter days
Where the songs on the radio keep

repeating, bundle up and go outside,
It prom dresses shopping 2017
Help me dear Lord!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

There was an older man who was not very liked.
He sits and draws cartoon characters based on his childhood abusers, often saying their names out loud.

He remembers people who have passed away and calls them "*******."
He sometimes feels like crying but holds back, worried he might not like the taste of his tears.  "his tears taste like bitter memories of his parents' criticism:

I haven’t seen my friend Eugene for several weeks. He is in the hospital with pain no one can explain. I miss our chats in the dayroom. I especially loved seeing his face light up when we talked about his Aunt Harriet and Uncle Jack, about her favorite cookies and his fishing trips at the lake with them.

Eugene never had good things to say about his parents. His father told him to ******* to relieve pressure, and his mother told him to run from the bullies. His therapist constantly told him he wouldn’t amount to anything, which made him angry and sad.
He sometimes wishes he had never been born because he feels rejected and looked down upon.

I care about my friend. Sometimes we talk about poetry. I gave him my favorite pen to help him express his feelings.
Poetry is important to me, and I choose to show empathy.
We need to share the stories of those who cannot defend themselves.

That was in 2017; he is long gone, my friend Eugene; however, I will never forget our small talk.  

Continue to rest in peace, my dayroom friend.

What of these final evening thoughts
That really wants me to forgive myself
For what conspired throughout the day

Where, I just couldn’t do it anymore
Become a ball breaker,
I always dreamt of an early retirement .
my unfilled bucket lists

The Harley bike I never rode out into the country
Images of it parked near a tree by the lakeside
Like so, I became one with my thoughts
Loud: clapping sound only startle us

Once again, there are those mirrors that surround us.
Watching: and that one obstacle
The monthly mortgaged bill

Feeling Lonelier than ever
Sadder than the Mad Hatter
Waiting and waiting for news
We must not depend on others
To make us happy, we must not
Relying on social media to fulfilled our days

We must not put all of our eggs into one basket
and we mustn’t be brainwash into believe that we can trust man
we must not feed on others sympathetic moments
Or make them our sympathetic companions:
just stating true facts:

The experts say that it’s perfectly ok to have
Sad feeling at times: it’s called the season of emotions
I love the summer months, it brings out happier times for most of us..
I saw an ad once it’s said it: Facebook making us lonely

In order for us to get on to Facebook we have to logged on
Just like any other switch, for us to see in the dark
We must turned on the light, without the light we might
Stumble in the dark and fall:
so if Facebook making us lonely
Why logged on: it just simply mathematics Mr. Watson(:)

Why move to a room where there is discomfort?
Stay close to your comfy chair and do a little meditation
Reflect on the good times: cleanse your soul: from your Toxic workplace
A week at work with negativity coworker: need a removal day

**If only closed minded came with closed mouth

Faces in the Street

So many faces, so many people
moving like boxes on an assembly line
I wonder if they ever think of the time

There always that one guy who always
Seem to be fidgeting with his cell phone,
With that killer tone of his voice
“***** aye better have my money today”
With that bad ****** expression attitude,

There is always a lesson to be learned,
a story to be told, from the feeling of a poet.
His eyes became the camera zooming from left to right
trying not to fixated on his subject,

So many faces, so many people, and there I was
Thinking of Robin Williams

As I lie in bed,
Flat on my back;
I think of life in a kaleidoscope setting
Colorful, plentiful and carefully chosen
My daily worries about my Future endeavors

I became the silence of the lamb character for a nanosecond
Politician and political threats in Washington DC
still debating: some silently *******

Women holding up signs teasing the president’s daughter
Old men gazing at her pretty face with drooling ****** emoji

Thinking out loud, about the " if only"

As I lie in bed,
Flat on my back; thinking
is 2017 the year of critical thinking?

****** masks
As we look around,
All we see is humans wearing ****** masks
A world of silencers, a world of social distancing:
Before we use to sit silently and watch the world
Around us:  misbehaved: the unruly bunch

Silence is holy it draws attention
To our inner peace:  today is the silence of the mask
Draws attention to fear, a fear of us being side track
By this disease, so we wear the mask of silence,
Do you remember, the measles, chickens pox’s
Scarlett fevers and the list when on:
But it’s nothing in comparisons to corona corvid 19

Lockdown: Now it’s staying at home means getting creative
Evaluating our lives, our behavior, our life style..
Was it out of control?  
Were we ever essentials?

  I hate wearing the mask
It make me feel like a captive, but i know better
Not to wear it: I need protection from you
And you need protection from me.

Because of what Mr. Trump said “the Chinese disease.”
Wearing the mask to do the tasks
Letting go of the hatred enable us to move forward

A world without humans is not a world
Is a silence world:
with one small flower emerging from a rock on a side walk

"I remember the land. I remember its people—their ways, the folly of their mentality. I never encountered the term ‘depression’ until later in life. I grappled with hatred and bigotry because they’re diseases akin to cancer and COVID-19.

Do you recall the carefree children of the eighties, their hedonistic pursuit of drugs, ***, and intellectual freedom? It goes like this: I don’t think of labor; I don’t think of work. Labor implies toil, and if it’s not self-employment, it’s slavery with meager wages from the man.

I remember the land and its people—their foolishness weighed on me. I remember the departed, how those trees outlived them. The language of the trees whispers freedom and the sound of human longevity, thanks to a matured land’s kindness.

The waste land we leave behind, even without spoken words, tells a story of abandonment. What you might see as a grassy area, I perceive as a court date—a battleground where families fight for ownership. Illegitimate children vie for their share of the land. Even unspoken, it holds worth.

How do you come to terms with yours?"

Family Secret

An Ice-cream man, with an Ice-cream van
His melodic chimes seem magical  and enchanting
the heat waves, a major summer killer

Little children with happy faces make biblical verses
Jump off the pages and come alive
Block to blocks, street to streets
laughter could be heard for miles

 There he was sitting on the old stoop
A little freckle face boy.
with eyes of a deep, dark blue
Waiting for God to answer his pray

Poor, little Vincent Maloney

He remember his grandmother harsh words
"Wipe your tears away, and pray in silent
Young Vincent Maloney"

“I pity your mother and I pity her choices,
and most all I pity her
For eloping with the colored man
 Barbara Coleman husband

Wipe your nose, and weep no more
Your daddy ain't your daddy
But your daddy doesn’t know

.
Race is not a determinable concept my child.

I will always have the fear of love
.
A fear of relationships and love tends to be deep-rooted,
and be connected to a fear that love hurts (quotes)
The heartbreak, the intimacy of knowing, that they were there
And now they are in the arms of another,
Doing the things that they had promise to us
Like loving us to death, while opening mortal wound:
Death ends a life, not a relationship>” Mitch Albom
What is lovely never dies, but passes into another loveliness
I hate my x, but not his offspring,
I love coke- cola but not the caffeine
I love ***, but not the togetherness:
I will always have the fear of love,
But I will always remember that one kiss,
The last goodbye, but his first hello
That look in his eyes, the day I saw him cry
I won’t apologize for guarding my heart
My expectations, of him shatters us
(My soul, wait in silence for God only, for my hope is from Him. Luke 3:15)
I shall not be afraid to walk the street alone
Without his hands in mine, or his comforting words
At the stop light, “please wait before we cross”
But I still have the fear of love for the mortal man
He oppresses, dehydrates and ever suffocates us (quotes)
However, God’s love never fails us:
I shall always distance myself from love
Even many might say that love is life,
And life is worth living without that kind of love.
I shall never tremble again, nor grip my heart
Because love had disappointed me
My love for them is real, they love for me is about the money,
,

by John Keats

A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:
Its loveliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.
Therefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


*Feedbacks
A poet strives for perfection
Someday his work will become a worldly reflection
With each line he procrastinates,

With each stanza bring unique function and a unique purpose
Reaction, pro action and anticipation
To the point of debating or deconstructing his work
Despite the unfavorable reviews

Should he read it out loud?
Or should he let it simmer
and invite samplers to sample

Too many minds, too many voices
The Metaphors, similes and analogies work so well,
because they make messages,
those closely related literary devices are
so influential, so important.

So when the feedbacks become the Sunday buffets
the main course, you are messing with his thing of beauty

A poet strives for perfection
Someday his work will become a worldly reflection
With each line he procrastinates, of who he is

I shall build my bathroom vanity to suit my person needs
        In a marble glossy white strip featuring tea leaves
Where the sunset would lift my morning moods
As I quietly sit on the toilet with the latest Bluetooth
  
I shall lie on my high pillow top bed
        And listen to the sound of the larks
While the wild baby monkey sits on the ledge
        Where tiny soldiers of marching ant crawl in the dark

I shall refreshed my house with Natural Aromatherapy Incense
        Just to keep evil away,
and in addition keeping the blessing in
While broods of Dominique hen cackling makes a loud annoying song

       In the year two thousand forty-two, I will represent
As for now, I am planning and waiting for my long awaited retirement

Feeling so worn out:

I shall build my bathroom vanity to suit my person needs
        In a marble glossy white strip featuring tea leaves
Where the sunset would lift my morning moods
As I quietly sit on the toilet with the latest Bluetooth
  
I shall lie on my high pillow top bed
        And listen to the sound of the larks
While the wild baby monkey sits on the ledge
        Where tiny soldiers of marching ant crawl in the dark

I shall refreshed my house with Natural Aromatherapy Incense
        Just to keep evil away,
and in addition keeping the blessing in
While broods of Dominique hen cackling makes a loud annoying song

       In the year two thousand forty-two, I will represent
As for now, I am planning and waiting for my long awaited retirement

Feeling so worn out:

I was sitting on the black stool,
next to her bed
she was elevated into a sitting position:
waiting to be fed,

I seriously thought by now,
She would have been dead:
Her fragile body, the determination,
Of the outcome of her life span:
makes her seems untouchable:
first born,, walk in
with a grin on his face,
his thoughts was similar to mines
She should have been dead by now

Small conversation, mostly about politics
His fruitless marriage and memories;
Of her teaching him how to tie his shoes lace,
a contemptible, socially inept person. In a suit

I should have dress her in her black dress
to match his suit, it would have been effortless
with the struggle of getting her into it…
I remember his break the silence moment:
Did you voted for Trump?
Why would he not.. asked how is my mother doing?
Did politics seem to matters most to him,
Or her wellbeing: In such a vegetable state?

I took a few steps down the corridor.
on my way back his visit was over:
tops five minutes

To him she is worth only five minutes of his time:
a contemptible, socially inept person. In a suit
she sang at his wedding, she taught him
how to ties his shoe lace,

she lay upon the bed with a tube up her nose
Waiting: for them to rain on her grave

Everyone is counting the casualties
Most of us saw the video of the decease
Most of us never knew her real name
Her story, was yet to be told,
Of a night worker, who stand alone in the dark
And defecated between the adjacent cars,
While an onlooker makes a video for shaming purposes
Words of comments, were

“How one live, so shall how ones die.
Man’s days are determined; by the almighty
Yesterday her name was the ***** from the club

Tomorrow her name will the late decease from Jamaica  
I will plant a tree in her name for peace,
And will it blossom beautifully without the shame
I shall be name, foam Flo wreck, the one who couldn’t be tame  
We only heard of people, after they are gone,
Peace be with you, peace be still
Peace came after, where was the peace when you need it most

**there is a very tiny cracks  in which another world begins and ends  Slavko Mihalic  quote

Our river runs low, unlike in Barbados, where rain graces the small island, turning it into a tropical paradise. Green pastures thrive,
  a breadfruit can sustain a poor man throughout the year, while others feast lavishly. Tomorrow is Thanksgiving in America, and perhaps in other parts of the world too. What are we thankful for this year?
Reflecting on 2024, what stands out as your most memorable moment? What brought tears to your eyes, and how many times did you cry out for help? This year has been tough for me, filled with force and emotional baggage,
accompanied by piles of bills. I held on, knowing that temporary meant limited, not permanent.
It's easy to be thankful for the good things.
Those who are also thankful for the setbacks experience a life of rich fulfillment.

Gratitude can turn a negative into a positive.
Find a way to be thankful for your troubles,
and they can become your blessings.

Today is Black Friday, and it feels black, an adjective that brings emotional instability. Will I be able to catch a good deal on this day?

Long before I ever met you,
I saw you in my dreams
You were faceless,
Without a name
I felt that burning flame of love

Life has a way of putting the puzzles of one's life together
Unlike a floating feather
We landed on soft white smoke clouds

I manifest my DREAM while sorting my fears
The fear of love is more to be dread than love itself
You were faceless without a name
I saw the burning flames of love within your eyes
You saw a vision of uncertainty within mines

Along with our wildest fantasy
My premonitions was I being lonely

Many angels appears as false prophets
As they fall on they face before the throne.
I rather be alone,

So forgive my angry tone
Your faceless tears, that reaches out to my heart
You’re flapping wings, my many scars, my downfall
Forgive me, forgive my angry tone

Forgotten ***

I felt caged in by lust and desire
Suddenly, this famous quote came to mind

In the moment when I truly understand my enemy, understand him well enough to defeat him, then in that very moment I also love him. I think it’s impossible to really understand somebody, what they want, what they believe, and not love them the way they love themselves, and then, in that very moment when I love them.... I destroy them.” ― Orson Scott Card,

I am tired of being nice; I want to be honest,
I want to say to him, you ******* simpleton,
It wasn’t about the ***; it wasn’t about the love,
If she doesn’t want him after all those years,
Why does he think I would want him now?
he can’t even love himself, long enough
Without, thinking about what is driving him insane
She wins again,
She destroys the man within

An uneducated woman clings to a young lad’s side
He woo her, he romance her
in six month time he took her for his bride

on the honeymoon in the heat of the night
in the wooded  house lid by only the street lights

he saw her for whom she was: as she lay there
a thing as cold as ice, without any care

he consummate the marriage like a hasty
frighten, laid back  hare:

he rose up before dark, and followed the cat
as its sat on his grandfather old front door mat

he wonder why he downgraded himself , no ecstasy  
was it for lust or love, *** or sympathy

how could he take her for his bride,
and cling to her side,

Not knowing she was cold and sexless

A relationship like this can be painful
but not necessarily hopeless

**For Love is blind but with the fleshly eye
,
He was so wrong. today she is colder than ever

For obvious reason:
There was once a lady name Annie
A very loveable, respectable Nanny
Her only wish was to become a poet
Without getting the terrible headaches
Until, she discover her grammar was uncanny
The beautiful tone of the poetess seems waspish:
According to the urban dictionary:

Once there was love
That left a light feeling, in one’s heart
It keeps us cheerful, even as ones recites bad hip hop lyrics.
Now it’s leaves a bad taste in one’s mouth
It came in from nowhere: out of left fields:

Ones can still pretend to like swimming in the winter time
Where bathing suits are 75% off the original prices:
In the Y.M.C.A the water is still in the swimming pools:
Ones’ ear is blocked with swim plugs:

Another problem, another loss of the game
Because, it’s still twenty below on the outside:
One’s heart misses a beat for the hundredth times
Warm body, cold hand and feet: not a good treat
Once there was love:
Now it's the emptiness of perception mode:

I dream of a street I once resided on
An old dwelling, with galvanize fencing
A main street, with poor street lightings
I wake longing to be back there,
I remember the country, but not the heartaches,

Where I use to live and where am I now
Its poetry, it a google map, it history,
How did i get from there to here?

Once again it poetry, it was a drastic move
How i comes and goes in my dream of being there
Not the dwelling, not the whispering of the trees,
Nor the shortage of water, but the freedom of being me..
“Freedom is doing a job that I love. Not because I have to do it, but because I love doing it.” Quote
I just finish watching another Netflix movie.. About families
Unauthorized living: some of the plots could have been better
But, I enjoy the main characters, in comparisons to mine

Daniel was funny, too rich to be happy, too stupid to know how to live
He gives his bodyguards two thousand dollars just to see who **** was bigger,
To stupid to know how to live
Too rich to be happy:
A character like him needs to live on my street,
In that dwelling on the main street, without his daddy’s billions:

Being rich doesn’t stop one from being a *****,
Those sisters proven that in the movie:
A man will always be a dog, with his sniffing,
With my findings, Beautiful women suffers
more than ugly women do..
once in a while allow your mind to take you home
a place where you felt safe. During these ugly times:

My poetry aims to provoke thought and reflection on complex themes of love, lust, and the myriad emotions surrounding humanity. I particularly focused on the raw and often troubling nature of ****** arousal, especially from a male perspective. I wanted to shed light on the painful experiences of women who have endured encounters with womanizers—those whose advances leave a lingering sense of disgust and apprehension. For many, the refrain “once bitten, twice shy” resonates deeply; a reminder of the scars left by past experiences.

Moreover, I draw parallels between politics and personal relationships. Just as politicians are often driven by ambitions of power and prestige—neglecting the true happiness of the masses—so too can intimate interactions become one-sided and manipulative. There’s a piercing moment of vulnerability that comes with being stripped bare emotionally, akin to the experience of a medium rare steak: tender yet exposed, much like the hollow feeling of a faked ******—both experiences leaving one feeling undone.

Among my body of work, I treasure a poem titled “Free *****,” which embodies my wish to let my thoughts roam freely across the vast expanse of the internet. I released my words into the digital ether, hoping they would reach hearts and minds far beyond my immediate surroundings. To my delight, my poems resonated with thousands of readers, sparking a dialogue filled with interpretations and reflections. Many of them encouraged the idea of self-love, urging me to appreciate not only my work but also the journey that birthed it.

What this world truly craves, I believe, is love—sweet love—rather than the pervasive bitterness of hate. I yearn to set my poem free, allowing it to travel far and wide, carried by the currents of thought and emotion, touching lives and fostering connection.

My poems in recent years has become,
The distance calculators: with its up and down
No one can stop them at the boarders, or
Seize their nouns or pronouns,

They can’t or will not be subject your isolation,
because of the singular/plural and tense disagreements.
It doesn’t need a visa or a green card to enter
the hearts of many poetic minds

They believe in us: we believe in them:
It doesn’t need your permission to make others smiles
My poems would always be foreign to you,
Like my way of eating a soft mango:  
with just a little opening at the top:
Because of the poems autarky: its freedom will prevails throughout  cyberspace:

Translated in the gift of tongues,
My poems owes you nothing,
But it promises you more,

Let my travelling poems, be my gift to you;
With a trendy feel of a human touch
in which the world need now.

Free *****, but allow my poems to travel far
Without your inputs:
Those who would look a gift horse in the mouth do not deserve the gift. Quote Brian M

Love yourself, accept yourself, forgive yourself and be good to yourself, because without you the rest of us are without a source of many wonderful thing: Quote

love yourself, then my poems, appreciated them for what they are,
because what this world need now, is love, sweet love,
not  hate, free ***** but let my poem travel.

When  the African lion roar ferociously in the early morning
I have no other choice, but to tamed the beast
The Goddess within respond with a purr! Purr!
A little teases, a little smile, a little laughter,
Suddenly, the greatest natural gift—of ******* joy
  my secret desire fulfilled.

A little nod to Carl Sandburg

Blast through oh moon of summer!

Double Dutch with the cow who jump over you
The Dish Network Lies About Having 200 HD Channels
while driving us crazy with their summer repeats

However, shine bright on the young ones who hopscotch
Their way on the city pavement way passed they curfew:
While the old folks listen to their foul language and laughter from their bedroom windows

Shine bright on the young lovers walking hand in hand on the sandy beaches
Shine bright on the missing piece of jewelry they drop in the wet sand.
But allowed them to find it before their honey moon is over
It’s was wedding gift from the groom.

Shine on old tired moon of summer,
The elders was in bed before the sun went down,
The ****** slowly patrol the boardwalk with ice-cream in their hand
Waiting to be picked up like on garbage day

Shine on us old tired moon of summer tonight
The free outdoor concerts could bring together the weirdest crowd:
Shine on old tired moon of summer,
Prove us wrong; prove us right, because you still have that magical touch
Your love always shines through for lovers like me….

Funerals for him is killing loneliness
He sets the alarm clocks in time for the announcements:
If familiarize with the names of the dearly departed:
he lights up like the light on Broadway:

The dearly departed is at rest: his struggles with reality,
of how the world runs: is unsettling:

the funerals arrangements is always the same:
The tone of the announcers : slow and gloomy,

Black and white would always be the traditional attires,
and the hymn ash to ashes will echo in ones ears,
so long as the tears flow slowly throughout the services:

As they lower the leveler into the ground,
they are gone but not forgotten:  R.I.P

Poet and death titles,
Death shall have no hold on me,
Death shall not make me sad,
I refused to mourn death: and that's the truth about me

Drinking and eating after the services: Is it a good gesture?
From soak tissues to soggy appetizers: the crowd pleasers
From the wet cemetery: to the living rooms floors

Poets feel and see the irony:
As they sat in their black and white attire, eating and drinking
Mount Gay or cold Banks beers:

The colorful graveyard welcomes another tenant:
Funeral for him is killing loneliness
He set the alarm in time for the announcements.
Fear man, not the dead: we two are so incompatible

**Regardless of whom you are or where you’ve been
You can be what you want to be. W. cement

A violent rushing wind crept through my bedroom window,
bringing the Brooklyn air and the smell of fumes.

It's not a good combination at all.
When will I learn that the young Gen Z is more frustrated than us baby boomers?
When we are in bed, they are up all night.
When we are fully awake, they are about to lie down.
When we try to reach out to them,
They get annoyed easily.
Should we fold or unfold to the madness of this so-called new generation?
Fold to the madness of the new generation.

Yesterday I watch a movie that had ten episodes
There I was alone watching into the morning 3: 00 a.m.
It was more about ***, lies, and manuscripts set in the heart of Maine

Limitlessness,

It mirrors the limitlessness of the human condition?
Facebook is like our mirror, we are always looking into the mirror
Facebook, Facebook in cyber space, who is this fearless of us all

Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who is the fairest of us all:
How many likes, how many visitors, how many notifications,
How many request shall I confirm or delete in a day:  why must I translate?

To see how the other half lived or used to live: juggling with the human behavior
I am running out of space to stored my poems, but my word kept coming

**Isaiah 55:11
so My word that proceeds from My mouth will not return to Me empty, but it will accomplish what I please, and it will prosper where I send

He captured her charm, serenity, and intelligence in his work. He frequently glanced from the canvas to her face. Asking her not to smile was like asking her not to breathe; patience wasn’t her strong suit.

What’s in a smile? Beauty, and everything! It was a shame that it didn’t showcase a young woman in her prime, the one everyone came to know and love. Her strong features and openness transcended the warmth of a morning rose blooming in spring.

Instead, he painted an autumn theme rather than the warmth of spring. The shape of her face and the curve of her lips were striking, yet they seemed inadequate for someone destined to be a future queen.

That was how I captured him while he slept. That was two years ago. He never contributed anything meaningful to our relationship. Was it love, or was it compassion? I remember those two years well. I told him I would forever love him. What did he do? He sold the link to our happiness. He sold the bike, GH 6615.

Those two years were a peaceful interlude for us, a reminder that what’s in a smile is not always what we think it is.
If I were a carpenter and you were a lady,

Today of all days I am dividing my tears into sections,

With each moment, with each tear drop and snuffle I makes

The paper tissues will always thread,  

crumbling signs some mishaps in life

surely, cannot be mended;



Yesterday was your birthday,  

Today it's my revelation, of life, (my life)

It seems lately, that I have taken a new route,

This road definitely is not paved with gold.



God truly bless heroes; he never fails me yet!

But, for sure I have encountered some obstacles,

Empathy, or just plain stupidity,  

I am an empath, I never thought I was this kind of person

As we grow older, it's so true that we see life in a different setting

the lows, the in-between and the high moments.

My so intensity, emotions, as they rise,  

and as they drop to low frustrations tolerance, I see red

Today, I need my ginger shots: who cares if it is unhealthy?



Today of all days I am dividing my tears into sections,

With each moment, with each tear drop and snuffle I makes

The paper tissues will always thread, crumbling signs of

some mishaps in life that surely cannot be mended.

Does anybody care about the upcoming presidential election this year?

When winter is over
Give praises,
With a goodbye kiss
Kissing the wintry weather goodbye

For years I dreamt that God would
find me the perfect man to grow old with
during the coldest part of winter,
a fling for the summer

An educator for spring and fall
Instead he send  Mr. Winter,
he was so cold and bitter
Mr.Summer, he was too hot to trot

Mr. Spring, the man was so unpredictable and moody,
and for the mysterious Mr. Fall
he keeps falling instead of rising.
So this year, I am once again, another lady who sing the blues
My Billie Holiday kind of sweet bitter blues…
is good-byes

I’m going to kiss your lips,
they are cold and taste like the word America)Quote)*
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I am going to say curry, turmeric, ginger and, garlic
The secret to one’s health:
the true radiant of loving ones’ body:
Like this secret place in my mind
The Gardens at Marqueyssac, Vézac, France.(relaxing)

I’m going to make love to you like the internet explorer
Two words Private mode: just to quench the thirst (even though)
It wiser to separate the two, business and pleasure
One word complication: never bed your business partner (unless)
If you can pulled it off like my heroine McKenzie Bezos (go for it)

I’m going to exam your tockley,
It’s sinful, and deadly, like the  initials S.T.D
I am going to end here with a prayer,
Asking for guidance, and Lysol sprays:


Dark Poem

Her eyes were wide open: she spoke with confident
The sun shines bright through the open window
That looks directly to the boardwalk:

I tried not to stare directly at her lower parts
But once I look the negativity :the body shaming
Keep on rising, my lips were sealed:

Hello, my name is Anna, and how are you?
I heard about them, I saw their videos
But to be up close: defaming the obesity epidemic
I saw Lucy the human sow pig,
The Triumphant Elephant struggles,
Years of food that could have save thousands
Of hungry children lives: she lay there dictating,

I stood there as a poet with a pen. Gasping, sighing
She fights for air; I fumbled for words of expression:
To report back to Jack Kevorkian:
Billing above care: day in and day out:
Was on displayed: there that day
Her hands reach for the oxygen wired,
I knew and she knew how I felt about her

She looked right at me, when she said the words
“Anna do you speak the Language
I said “oh no, “God forbid
And from that moment,
I know she was waiting, waiting,
To leave this world behind her: