So Many New Poetry Flavors, Come To Try Them All


They used to be together
Blending well with
personalities and habits
No rejection
No contradiction
A deadly virus struck
the whole world and
everything interchanged
The moment of point
to make a decision
for self-defense and pride
She had split herself into two
A soul of sins and terror
A soul of kindness and innocence
The trigger was pulled not by herself
but another her
Memory was sealed within the
little key she held to prevent them
from merging once again
as both of the lost souls
search for their one
and only true



Each word, each line
Each thought I relive
Effort put, times nine
Desire more, they give

For each sorrow gone
New paths are found
A fresh smile is born
To spread all around

Milestones are many
Passion remains same
Finding new friends
Stay true to my name

No destination here
A journey magnifique
A moment to admire
Then continue to seek

With each step taken
A new lesson learnt
New dreams awaken
Old hurdles are burnt

Each drop of ink spilt
Each beat, my heart
Knits a magical quilt
Loves this poetic art



* She said- A Book is an open window *

An open window would lit the room,
No matter however gloomy it may be.
It would let the light in-
Vanishing the dampness and darkness within.

One may keep within the confines;
Yet be exposed to all that’s happening..
Like a Book teaches you of a subject,
The Light, makes visible all the objects.

You stand next to one,
Filling yourself with Hope:
You see the Sunrise and the mark of a Dawn;
And a trail of the horse- cart, even when it’s gone..

I now write- to create a Window to myself..
It would take long but create one- I will..!
It would be large, it would be vast-
It would bring in all that was lost.

It would no longer matter then-
That I am locked up in a cell..
For that window would be my sky and my floor;
Opening me out- to the world as a Door.

It would let the passersby discover me hidden-
Letting me escape the timely prison!
The Window would then compete with the cell- walls,
Standing Me strong- opposing them all.

I would free myself of all the pain;
The humiliation, the anger, the disgust and the hurt..
It would mark a beginning of a new life song-
One that I would sing with everyone along.

My Dear Mom, bless me again-
I’ve only started on the way that’s far stretched.
I promise I won’t give up till I am done;
I’ll adorn my victory- they’ll say “I have won..”


Jamie Dedes:

I packed a thermos of coffee, added sugar for a treat,

put on my best old-lady walking-shoes, my jacket.

Having yet to invest in binoculars or birding guide,

I rely on old eyes and odd instinct, a primal thing

that remains despite a lifetime of city life and living.


The early morning sounds and songs are clear,

crisp as the cold autumn air on which they float.

The migrants are returning for winter and the

the waters and walkways are busy with their

feeding, graceful glides, and people watching.


And having commandeered a bench to myself

and set my backpack aside and with it the

weight of life’s paraphernalia, there’s room now for

cloudless camaraderie and the songs, socializing

and silent parables*, of my softly feathered friends.


A satisfied sigh, a sip of coffee, and a scan of

the canny landscape before me, no longer a

place of primeval magic. Too much interference

from human unkind with nature’s kind. Sitting,

sipping, pondering lessons from younger brethren.


Observe: they’re happy to migrate here and there,

no place to call home but their hearts’ center. Ah so,

makes me think of Daddy, Doña Rosa, Sidto, and

others of their sort and vintage. Fluttering, flying birds,

they were, birds of a much different frame and feather.


Ah. America, America! Daddy would lament along

with an ouzo neat and a bowl of yogurt, the child

I was wondering if he missed his mother and

her cooking and the Kiraathane* where townsmen met

to pontificate, cogitate, and bond in the way men do.


And Doña Rosa, peering out the steaming windows

of her old-fashioned white kitchen, prim and pristine

and productive the way kitchens used to be back

when women made the bread and men earned it.

Did she long for ancient olive groves, country life?


And Sidto, minimalist cook and housekeeper, quite

undone by eighteen births and raising ten children

and a husband, irrational, violent, greedy … well

just a mean man with a mean spirit and lean pocket.

She yearning for her sister left in the land of cedars.


My bird friends and relatives act their morality play:

fishing, swimming, and gliding on water and air

and nary a bit of sadness or longing about them.

They live from centered hearts, free and constant

and teaching lessons of peace to solitary folk

living on a bench by the side of the road. Watching.


Only in the silence

do I hear that faint whisper,

the one that hums

beneath the roar of the river,

the one that strums

between the rustles of the wind.

Only in the silence

do I feel that gentle nudge,

the one that tugs

at the wings of my soul,

the one that hugs

around the beating of my heart.

Only in the silence

do I see that dream,

the one that hides

in the dark hours of the night,

the one that resides

in the marrow of my bones.

Only in the silence

do I taste the miracle,

the one that lives

in the ancient salt of unshed tears,

the one that gives

when there is nothing left inside.

Only in the silence

do I smell the hope,

the one that lifts

the fallen man with steps,

the one that gifts

the thirsty with living water.

Only in the silence

am I awakened to the sacred.



A. B. Thomas:


The Juliebook:

You’d dance too

If you awoke
to endless pain
body broken
and made lame
you would not dance, my love
you would not dance

If you had cried
through sleepless nights
waiting for that
next sunrise
you would not dance, my love
you would not dance

If you had spent
two months propped up
on pillows and
matching canes
you’d want to dance, my love
you’d want to dance

If you stood tall
against the sky
amid a garden
green with life
you too would dance, my love
you too would dance

If you then took
your first free step
supported by
feet made whole
you too would dance, my love
you too would dance

Now you can see
me tap my feet
sway to the tune
swing the beat
Come dance with me, my love
come on: let’s dance


Someone Is Special:

The frozen crystals came closer

Dense deep cloud kept darkening

A tiny drop came thundering down

Fell in the ocean and screamed in silence

Overjoyed at the union, it smiled in circles

Dissolved its state and became great

We happily swam

In the ocean of friendship


A threat came on one day

Followed with a shocking news

No more drops in the ocean

Made me cry until I dry

Realized that true friendship

Can never end even one die

Dedicating this verse as

An ode to Friendship




Smiling all 24

My glow shines through the darkness

Brighter than the night’s sky

I am the Milky Way

Sunshine fades in comparison

To what’s all over me

I color the winters night

Cannot be dimmed

Brightness everlasting

After the end I will remain

And I will forge ahead

I am love



we ate lunch
with fingers,
lips ‘n tongues;
chewed & swallowed.
afterwords, we split
the check & left.

where are
we gonna go
next? i’m not
sure i trust
me leavin’ it
all up to you.

still not sure
how deep
that part goes.
(doesn’t change a
damn thing)
i’m following you.

any other direction
is only half-
right & mostly
besides, it ain’t
really a choice.

you buried
telephone lines under
my eyes
& fastened
the other end
to your hip pocket.

if my prayers
still kneel
at your altar;
what it is
you’re hearing is
open to question.

really; i admire you.
not often am i this
close to someone who
could ask me to jump off
the GW bridge & get
me to think about it.

i’m almost serious.
you can’t find
a girl
like that
just anytime
or anywhere.


Gabriela :


Silence, please be quiet

Pay attention and listen carefully

To the silence within


So many things going through my head

An analytical mind doesn’t rest

Hardly trying to silence all the cracking voices

Asking and answering concurrently

As if everything should have a logical answer

For the mind to take it easy

Silence, please be quiet

Pay attention and listen carefully

To the silence within


I must be careful with what I think or say

As I know that thoughts and words create

But regrets don’t undo and sorrow isn’t a fine ally


Silence, please be quiet

Pay attention and listen carefully

To the silence within


I don’t like what I see and hear

The silence is too loud to bear

Stubbornly I kept quietly observing

The mind attempts to complain

But contentment appears

After that there is nothing to fear

For silence becomes a friend and nice place to be


Silence, please be quiet

Pay attention and listen carefully

To the silence within





You can affect me almost at will,

By stimulating my imagination,

Synapses fire at new idea’s thrill,

Out of the common to new aberration,

Tell me that tonight we’ll abscond,

We’ll dance by a coppice of trees,

And my lustful thoughts will jump beyond,

The moments you squeeze and tease,

You can affect me, yes you can,

Talking always in circles of love,

But words alone will not stand,

When you plea to the heavens above,

My fevered mind wants you tonight,

To quench this red hot fire,

I’ll whisper words you think sound right,

But lest you think I’m a liar,

My heart springs up like a babbling brook,

I’m vulnerable, as strange as it seems,

Stirring my imagination was all it took,

And I want you forever in my dreams.



I cannot describe

the excitement of finding

the perfect black boot!


Scent of my heart:


I could see the smile that is hiding in between the lines of your face.
I could hear the sigh of pleasure ready to abandon your lips.
I could feel the urge to say the words out loud, filling the static.
I know you want to declare, to mark, to announce … I know.

But… Shush!!!

Don’t tell anyone I let you hold my hand!
Don’t reveal the secret of the temptation we shared!
Don’t display our vulnerable hearts in the bright sunshine!
Don’t … not yet!

Just… Shush!!!

Hold the heaven we found for you and I,
let us taste it before the eyes open and see the gray.
Keep the comfort, the hunger that we fed with beauty,
let us breathe it, before the outside world stains it with
ordinariness, with poison of the everyday routine.

Shush!!! You have to!!!

Tell me some more stories about magic,
be my “always” even for a bit, even just for today.
Tomorrow we can tell the world about us,
but now please… just “Shush” and listen to the music that plays,
every time you come near to share a kiss!


The Reason You Come:

I kissed one of the seraphim
And now I sing this ode to him
Though I forget his mighty name
To me, you see, they’re all the same

All angels are the same to me
They love me wild and set me free
But this one seraph stole my heart
He’s well-schooled in seductive art

He flew me to Mt. Zion’s peak
On bended knee, began to speak
Of dreams and fire and passion’s moon
His eyes of gold just made me swoon

Their penetrating stare I took
As emblemizing love’s own look
Still on his knee, he sang of plans
Of happiness, I jumped to dance

At this, he stood in celebration
Of utter bliss and sweet elation
While Heaven winked at me, all smiles
In wondrous awe of female wiles

I still don’t know my angel’s name
This fact I hide with blameless shame
I choose to focus on the joy
Of dancing with my ageless boy


Kick Out The Jams:

A quick glance, backwards,

and a life is reflected.

Where an eye for regret

is stored in the gilt-edge

surround. The glass echoing

hopes long past, sundered, eclipsed

by shadows of lives not lived.

Where love almost lingered

but passed, etching layers

of guilt and memories inlaid

in wrinkles. And as I look again

that past life settles, like wind-blown

sand, on a present countenance.



I am quitting today—
not abandoning anything specific,
but the day itself,
resigning myself
from its responsibility.

I will march with picket signs
around the walls of today
and all of its troubles,
chanting of its injustices
into a bullhorn.

I defy today
and all of its duties,
preferring instead the comfort
of corduroy blankets
and striped sheets,
in the untarnished dreams
of morning.


Modernity’s Muse:



Drip drip drop–
Sweat trickles
From the reddening head
To the baking rocks
At my aching feet.

This desert,
Killing floor for
Hidden hypocrisies,
Strips the drippings
Of dilution,
Boils off the water
Into the thirsty air.

Stumble and fall and
Scuff the skin again,
Oblivious to the oozing blood
Flaked and flailed
Into the whipping wind.
The shimmering air
Toys with the simmering brain
Stewing and steeping in its juices.

So many things you think you see,
So many answers dance after second glance.

Certainties are for children and fools.

This dissipation from willing participation
In how many vices brought you to this place?

There is only death here.
But certainties are for children and fools.


One sky, one destiny:

Before the moment of flowers

Petals tumbling through the haze of gray

Beyond the realm of pain

Tears stealing away more

than grooves and channels

etched perchance into skin

Weave through rain

And you are rain

falling gently into the

quiet that babbles between

Two lovers

Fill the spaces between fingers

Emptiness that runs to

the promises of yesterday

bent haphazardly at the core

Bent but never broken.



How long has it been?

Since then—

Then as in?

—Since the day we became friends.

Let me count the years:

One, Two, Three…


I think it’s six, Or seven?


It does not matter.

Friendship is what counts.

But which cannot be measured,

Yet can be seen,

As a basket of:


Little joys,


And love.



I’ll gaze outside the cylinder,

Outside past this PENDULUM.

The patterns seem to similar,

Lines in the sand from the pendulum.


I’ll dream next to the pendulum,

Far across the desert in the center.

Connecting my lines to the pendulum’s,

Drawing snowflakes I missed in the winter.


I’ll write behind the glass,

Writing what I see outside this room.

It’s startling hearing the fireworks crash,

My words should be the only bim, bam and boom.


I’ll sing to this pendulum,

It sets the tempo and I always follow.

I admire this static pendulum,

Always been here when my world became hollow.


Ash Bee Zone:

Yo!! Every day and night
I always keep on Dreaming,
Just to hide the damn fact
Which I don’t want to believe in,
I can’t take this anymore
Coz’ those tears are still bleeding,
Since those days won’t be cumin’ back
So It’s Damn f*cking useless for a pleading.

Since I m not a Waving flag
I m not that damn stronger,
Getting tamed by almost everybody
Can’t take it anymore so longer,
So, I Need a break from such Hell sh*ts
As such things won’t get over,
And finding an another place like Heaven
Coz’ it’s the only damn place to Hover.

Those nice days reminds me so much,
Which even comes in your life very hardly,
But soon, The Tables turned out-of-nowhere
Where I’ve lost somebody very badly,
Now It’s late to have remorse & regrets
Coz’ the time has already gone out for a guilty,
Still on a trail to find them out
So much Truly, Madly and Deeply.

So while walking though those sufferings
Still hanging on with a self belief,
That all those Dreams gonna be true someday
Surely get back those senses of relief,
But Damn It !! This won’t hide the f*cking reality
and There’s no way I won’t deceive
Coz’ I’ve lost my dear loved ones in the middle,
and That’s THE BIGGEST GRIEF that I’ve ever received !!

Still having a Dream every time I wake
Though the clock yelling me out that ‘It’s too much late’
Battling from those Nightmares, My life is now in stake
Just making some new roads of my very dear Fate !!

Though these Roads are very tough to move on
Even its surface are very hard,
But there is no way I m gonna give up like a Moron
Not anymore in my own Yard.
Those my loved might have gone to infinite
Dunno how much they are far apart
But still there’s a place for them
& forever they reside in his HOLY HEART !!




Funny girl Lola:


I had to see you, my first love,
I drove through the valleys of cows and fruit trees
By the birds and the grave yard of children
Beyond the green and around the bend,
I entered the blue and we met, at last.
The temperature dropped but I couldn’t feel it
I was a blaze of fire at the idea of the sight of you
I stood like a child, vulnerable and scared
You seemed tormented and angry,
Not sure what to make of me after all this time.
I felt your touch as a chill cooled my flame
Instantly I was younger and pure.
I was engulfed in your coldness again
I was thrown around like a rag doll at your whim
You tormented me with your power
You cleansed me with your presence
Your grip made me love and hate you
Aware again, I stare longing at you my old lover.
Have you needed me too?
I beg you, “please touch me”
Obediently you tickle my ankles and nibble my toes,
I long for more.
I long for your salty kiss to consume me.
But, I’m scared
I have too much to lose and not enough strength
What a fool to think I could escape you once and try again
To brake through your layers, tame you with my love.
I’m invaded with memories of your touch once more.
Coming from behind and nibbling on my neck.
Parting my hair with crazed abandonment just to achieve a better taste
You left me wet with your hunger,
I am just your vulnerable pet.
Please don’t stop, I beg!
With a look you resend, letting go of my tortured ankles.
A chill comes over me as you leave and a thick fog surrounds me
I know it is over, I know I must go,
Heartbroken you’ve left me again,
When will I see you again?
Will you see me?



My Life Is A Notebook:

What’s a battle of tug of war
Between friends?
I assure you
It isn’t innocent
When you are using me as your rope
I’ve listened to his side
I’ve listened to hers
But how the hell
Did I get in the middle?
He attacks her
Using me
She needles him
Using me–
Excuse me!
Don’t I have a say?
Can’t I protest?
Guess not…
But friends
Let me warn you
I’ve been wrung around
This torture wheel before
And I don’t put up with this anymore.



I have, unabashed, soared,
from underneath a stifled dream,
I was, as in, repressed, by ‘em,
and a lore of life hidden in me.

and now as i walk among,
a breeze that comes with,
brings a halcyon memory forth,
for a life that lies beckoning.

of the many colors that remain
unstated through my days,
in my land i will,
a brief affair, with the strange.

I will, oh certainly do,
see ‘em all, drink and taste.
pleasures of the vim,
oh come along, define your life.

and when the wind hit,
as it took away my repose,
or so i thought, I veered,
from a path, of inertia and torpor.

of that scraggly life that i led,
i forget, and i think, and i think,
this new freedom biting its way in,
the devil in me laughed.

I shall, through and through pass,
culling, for life throws ‘em aplenty,
affluence seeking its way home,
this myriad mind of mine.



I hate it when I linger on the past.
But how can I forget the feelings that I once thought would last?

Is it my fault that I’ve loved too much?
Or is your heart really hard to match?

The memories that bring me back to you,
Are the same things that’s killing me too!

Happy to miserable,
Miserable to numb.
I wonder if death would be next?

It wouldn’t be a bad idea
to know that I’ll suffer less
But that will only prove
That I’d fail this test
The test of moving on and letting go

So please get out of my life
Coz it’s hurting me so.


The journey called life:

I found myself sitting here all alone,

Thinking about the things we did before,

You made my life worth living for,

Dawn, I miss you for so long.


Honestly, I never thought we could be this close,

We were strangers Hi! Hellos!

We had so many things less in common,

Yet, we manage to carry on.


There were times that I ran to you crying,

And you were there comforting,

We drank together like there is no tomorrow,

You did that just to ease my sorrow.


I must say I’m so blessed,

You saw my worst and still love me more than my best.

I’m grateful to have you as my friends,

How I wish we’ll be together ‘till end.


Poems |My World:

Words, they come out of me,

in a gush as if rush.

I said sh……!  wait, am busy,

then they stopped and stared.

They had danced in front of me;

before, I wasn’t aware.

Now they flow ,flow and flow,

like a river towards sea.

Transformation big that happened,

a  housewife turned poet.

God’s miracle may you call this,

lazy turned creative.



Gray words:

Bleed my beloved country
The thorn in our side
is the baby in your womb
This growing parasite
that inflicts pain and doom

Bleed my beloved country
As your children lay raped and torn
As your elders try to loosen the noose
Ignorance controlling our history
Ignorance controlling our all

Die my beloved country
Embrace what you have become
A nation built on foundations of crime
A nation built on the victims
A nation controlled by… who?



I’m losing
my edge
I stand
on a

My sanity
is faltering
my life
course is

The walls

We’re back


The strain

To the end
we are

Swept along
in this
siren song

stop the clock?

Tick, tock
Tick, tock

I guess not.




Today I stepped away from my life to see

Formless clouds scattering like vagabonds on the morning breeze

Sunlight’s reflection from scattering stardust from nights no more

Tiny seconds of time crisscrossing descriptive memories etched in mind


Darting thoughts like hummingbirds feeding from the flowers of forever

Motionless but proceeding to futile dreams of expectancy

Realizing all is but the dreams of others wished upon


In my presence I rush to understand only to realize the life I observe

was truly the beginning of humility and all to be

like the hummingbird’s heartbeat; rapid with the speed of Hermes


I look as time seems silent and gentle touching all

Like the cooling breeze of a summer shower soothing

Luring all in its path to soon forgotten memories


My memories are like the wings of the hummingbird rapid

To be seen only by one who steps away

Flashes of thought feelings of appreciation


Today I see the hummingbird suspended in flight

With the speed of Hermes moving through time

For one tiny second I stepped away observing a lifetime


Today is my yesterday knowing my tomorrows will always feast from the flowers of forever

Like the hummingbird I dart I feast as if time stands motionless as life passes

Today I stepped away from my life to see the hummingbird feed

Today we feast upon the flowers of forever.




We’re seriously considerin
To live & die in endless Sin
Searchin where we do begin
Fall & fail to lose or win
I’m hopelessly in love with you
If thats not right, what is true?
You say its just a different view
Leavin me without a clue
I’m rushin forth, you’re lingerin
You pause, I play right to the end
Skippin through a life within
A moment passin by again
If this is all we’ve done
Lived without fun
I think its time to run
To the other side of the sun
A puppeteer you pull my strings
Push my buttons, cut my wings
Till you become my everything
Then leave me just to go & sing
A martyr to no crime or cause
Within whats life we learn whats loss
The journey that leads to your rose
Holds the thorns that do oppose
So call me what you should or may
Call me a dreamer or just crazy
For all along & to this day
I haven’t learned how to play
If this is all we’ve done
Lived without fun
I think its time to run
To the other side of the sun

Yeah I think its time to run

To the other side of the sun.



Celebrating A Year:

the moon laughs like a great
fat Buddha in the sky
now let me get this straight
the moon laughs like a great
joke has been told but wait
October raindrops cry
the moon laughs like a great
fat Buddha in the sky.


Creation on Dreams:

Just not too long ago,
I parted from my physical shell
A man,44, suffering a heart attack
I don’t feel anything
I do not carry the burden to breathe normally
Or have feet touching the ground
“Hello?” I ask, to people in a bustling area
Nothing but a slight chill upon their neck
They look behind and they see nothing
“Perhaps a whisper?” one asks
Thus ends the saddened, ignored whisper
The whisper of John Doe.


Panda Wolf:

Hey Rain,
How are you today?
I know it’s kind of strange
That I’m asking you this way

But I think it’s a little rude
That you come down to talk
And no one pays attention
Because they’re focused on their walk

You’re an old friend remember?
We’ve spent many nights together
While I snoozed under the covers
You became my favorite weather

And it’s been a while
Don’t you think?
We should sit down
And have a drink

Although it looks as though
You can’t take another drop
You’ve always been a strong drinker
Probably a little over the top

So where have you been recently?
Speaking with a European?
I thought that perhaps you’d be
Coasting the Caribbean

But you’ve always been
A little sporadic
Kind of makes me wish
I was a bit more nomadic

And I know that you’re a bit moody
And a lot of people see that too
But what most tend to forget
Is that they’re around because of you

So keep doing a good job and
I’ll see you maybe next week
Don’t worry about my schedule
I’ll always have time to speak



Living in the shadows
The Ebony
The Marabou
The Dark skin
The Sistaz
Buried in the pride of blackness
The darker the berry, the sweeter the juice
Dark as night
Beautiful and proud
Masked in the deception of self love
Perpetuating self hate of another kind

Café Au Lait
Half breed
Living in the shadows
Silenced by black pride

Secretly loving my honey caramel self
Hidden to the sisters of the night
Shamefully covered in black pride
Ashamed to show self love
Hatred and disenchantment
The sisters of the night will sure show

Café Au Lait
Living in the shadows
Silenced by black pride

Removed from the berry tree
Unsweetened to thee
What is it to thee?
If I take pride in me
For Black too is me

Pink lips
Soft curly hair
Blue eyes
Brown eyes
Green eyes
A surprising mix I can be

Scared to say
Silenced by thee
Why can’t I be me?
I am happy to be
Café Au lait

Seeing me loving me
You sense me hating you
Seeing you loving you
I sense you hating me
Blackness mainly defined by thee
Living in the shadows of your black pride
When will I be allowed to freely love my side?

Blackness is thee
Blackness is me
Dark as night
Caramel like honey
You in me
I in you
No more living in the shadows (honey)
For I am loving me
Café Au laity
Surprisingly and deceptively sweet as can be


Inside My Poem book:

I know you for more than 40 years long .
I was astonished by the way you faced your struggles in life strong
I could recollect of how you tackled the facts with your courage
Moving about helplessly but still made plans to manage

No man is sacrificed of me on his journey
For all, was sent here to pay back for their destiny
Now you are  weak, I know that I made you so
I was playing my part in your life’s book recto-verso

Slowly I started admiring you and I wished to stay with you forever
But since I am in love with you I wanted you to stay happy ever
So I have taken an important decision in my life.
And that is,I am moving out relieving you of your life’s strife.

Although in life there is no fast forward or rewind
I was tempted to leave my reflections behind
Not to make you remember your struggles on your way
But for you to know that I once existed on your pathway.


Thoughts Not Lost:

Centered lovingly in my being–arching, flexing.

Twisted as a weed might smother a flower, stealing beauty and purpose.

Embraced as truth of all that’s known. Nevermind how much I’ve grown.

Don’t know another way but to stay.

Insecure, drawn in, weary of what might be, shouldn’t be.

Falling down. Fall. Down. Tumble. Tumble. Down.

Drowning with life while suffocating in death.

Breath of certainty, exaggerated and askew.

Worse is knowing what’s wrong, refusing to mend.

Worst is knowing my way out, yet not walking that way.

Centered bitterly in my being–

feelings that loathe a sense of hope. Of purpose. Of maturation.

Fight to discourage with words, deeds…supposed actions.

Break free when a light is shown, for it is always shown.

I may think it’s not as denial lectures–

crash through if I dare. Only I know the exact point to be spared from despair.



Sometimes you pine for what you’ve never had,
Sometimes you pine for what you’ve lost,
And cry rivers for unrequited love,
When you’ve lost more than what it cost.

Yet never do you learn to appreciate,
The wildflowers peeking through the cracks,
When red roses wilt, wither, and die, you mourn,
Though wildflowers strive to brighten up the track.

These roads leading to the walls of your heart
Can be tread by a select few,
Yet you never care to take the path,
Of one whose heart beats just for you.

And then you say there is no one in this world,
Who can stand by your side for life.
For the ones you would follow to the end,
Are the ones who left in the midst of strife.

So you pine for what you’ve never had,
You pine for what you’ve lost,
And continues this vicious mess,
Where you gain nothing more than loss.


Dr. Madan:

Art of reading the artists

Is a real difficult tactics

Imaginative minds infinite

Can fly anywhere like kite

To get to the writer’s sense

Need a lot of time, patience

Why should one study much?

Difficult to make a real touch

Reciprocation is courteous need

Making friends lot, is not greed

2zpoint is puzzle, still unsolved

Sillyfrogsusan, though resolved

Bet365italia is a friend, good name

Brain required reading artistic claim

Live to write today and oil of Olivia

Were pieces of attraction, cutest diva

Notjeffry is another a bit of confusion

Not making sense to mind of medicine

Jingles of Ji were sounding like the bell

Scent of one heart, was too great, to tell

Butter in cup makes me water in the mouth

The photographs & videos naughty no doubt

What I write is mine, what you read is yours

Definitely it makes a quote, rightly of course

Some of words used are bloggers titles.



what I feel for you,
is a cluster of sentiments,
wobbling like the
clouds in the blue.


Every night I provoke in bed,
with a thought of you in my head.
Drenched in dreams of dismay,
or it was you sitting in my way.


What I feel for you
is the years of love spend together,
and with you away ,I doubt
soon it will be over.


what I feel for you
is the fragrance of your smell,
the softness of your touch,
but it aches to regard
my love, for you
was just a piece of crush.


what I feel for you
is our partial love,
abandon by someone,
in turbulence and disgust.


She’s gone this time

And it’s for good.

Don’t beg.  Don’t cry.

Because it’s good.

I know you can’t

See past your pain

And you wish all

Could be the same

She’s gone this time

And it’s for good.

Don’t beg.  Don’t cry.

Because it’s good.


You’ve tried before

To re-arrange

A month or two

You make a change.

But if it’s about

Getting her back

You’re never changing

The greatest lack.

She’s gone this time

And it’s for good.

Don’t beg.  Don’t cry.

Because it’s good.


Quit loving her

And love yourself

Take your fragility

Off the shelf.

See who you are

And learn to be

The best you can

So you can see

She’s gone this time

And it’s for good.

Don’t beg.  Don’t cry.

Because it’s good.


You’re better when

You’re not with her

With all the anger

In the air.

She wants to be a

Better self

And that’s why

She repeatedly tells

She’s gone this time

And it’s for good.

Don’t beg.  Don’t cry.

Because it’s good.


It’s time for you

To push, to grow

It will be hard

Change is, we know

You’re worth the pain

You will endure

You’ll transform for you

And not for her.

She’s gone this time

And it’s for good.

Don’t beg.  Don’t cry.

Because it’s good.


When you can smile and

See your strengths

And understand you’re worth

All the lengths

that others take

to make you see

You’re worth who you

Are bound to be.

When freed from all


That brings you down

And poisons you

And blinds you to

What’s really true

She’s gone this time

And it’s for good.

Don’t beg.  Don’t cry.

It’s truly good

For both of you.




Ink ripples on mirthless quietude.

Ash turns to silver
The river gleams in the first sun,
then yields to blinding white,
absorbing the sweat, blood, tears, bullets, orphaned cries.
And ashes.

The river flows on.
My pen trawls a bottomless pit.


I Listened, momma:

Great Uncle Junis died
and was buried
on Christmas Eve.

Thirty-one people
came to see him off.
I saw him in a suit

for the first time in my life;
no wife, no children,
no wealth to leave

only the memory of his joy
when he played the French harp
and sang for passers-by.

I think of an Aztec poem,
that says though I perish
the songs I sang will still be sung.

So I make a place
for his music to live
forever in my soul.

Adios, mi tio,
last legacy of my grandfather’s
generation. Adios.


Messages In bottles:

I am placeless race less faceless
I’m shameless blameless fameless
might as well be nameless
I’m not starving
not drowning
I am nowhere near death that anyone can foresee
I have not been abused, violated, tortured or neglected

and this is my problem.

Give me a reason for my misery
Justify my anger, my angst
My weights are made of paper
my chains of diamond
my collar is a braid of daisies
my blood leaves imaginary streaks on flawless skin
I am my reflection
whole, untarnished, unsheltered

and that is my agony.

I want my trauma in a single shot
not a tall bottle to sip from
not a champagne flute to twirl
I want a hammer in my skull
a blade to my throat
a fire to sleep in and
broken glass to swim in
Touch, my wrists are unmarked
my blood untainted
my eyes unmissed by tears that have not fallen

There is nothing wrong with me,
and this is my horror.



On the blurred edges of my dreams,
where i search for you each night,
I found you once waiting for me,
smiling at me, or maybe on my plight.

It was a dream i know for sure,
you stood as the royal unicorn,
I remember just your smiling face
as time witnessed a tryst of souls.

You told you will wait till eternity,
but I was forbidden to yet, sleep forever,
unless I was done with spreading love
that was meant for you, but shared never.

There was some one else, worthy around
who would hold me just like I always wished,
the way I see in my dreams each night,
he is the one, the true anchor of my ship.

Saying so you left me on doors of dawn
to open my heart and let love rule it again
to make space for the cheerful dreams
and let your memories wash away the pain.

Each night since then, I dream of you
full of pride and care, my royal unicorn
to me you always will be the real star
no matter who says “you are no more”.



just another girl:

For every thought that comes to my mind
and for every word that speaks my mind
they are all rolled into a joint, burned, and inhaled deep inside;
Either way
the consequences are unbearable
For my mind does not align with the norms of my own kind

Once upon a time
the age of Mother Goose and nursery rhymes
No one told me that love can be redefined
that a wedded couple is not necessarily a man and wife
No one told me that I can love a girl
and make the girl my world
So, now-
I bear the consequences of self-inflicted pain
it makes me nauseous, it makes me insane

The global truth is that we are not all the same?
We are the same.

he can be burning churches
he can be destroying minarets
he does not understand that the lines on the world map
were drawn by a mortal’s hands
he does not understand that the colors on our skins
were interpreted by a mortal’s eyes
he does not understand that the God we idolize
is idealized by a mortal’s mind

Borders and boundaries are self-proclamations of the human race
I wish I can fly
beyond, above and beyond.
The way I love
is just the way she loves him or he loves her
or how the priest says God loves you and I
I love beyond

Wait a minute
Shakespearean romance only exists in fictional literature
The real world is made of the United States of America and Republic of China
maybe Lady Gaga and Adam Lambert
but the best has got to be Muse’s United States of Eurasia
The crooks of an undiagnosed schizophrenic homosexual child is never heard
The plight of a pregnant prostitute never leaves the pages of her journal;
then a tragic tale
like Shakespeare’s Macbeth
is printed on papers and distributed a century later
Casually, we call it another great work of fiction… Fiction?

Consequences come from consequences
cunning and cyclical
sizable or ceaseless
Either way
I’ve learned to bear the unbearable
and to fight the indestructible
in my chimerical state of mind



Have you ever wondered,
What things would look like,
If we actually opened our eyes?
Have you ever thought about,
What life could be like,
If we were honest with our tries?

Because I’m honestly sick,
Of being told I’m not enough,
It makes it hard to realize that’s not true.
And I’m honestly annoyed with,
Being shown what I should be like,
Because I don’t do things the way they do.

Maybe if we stopped pushing,
If we stopped lying about ourselves,
We’d all be able to be ourselves without guilt.
Maybe if we stopped insulting,
If we stopped abusing words,
People’s courage wouldn’t be torn but rather built.

Have you ever wondered,
What people would feel like,
If we were loving one another regardless?
Have you ever wondered,
What acceptance could feel like,
If we were at least a little bit selfless?

I’m sick of these lies.
These walls we all have built.
So that no one can see who we really are.
Because these lies,
And these walls we have built,
Will keep us dead and never getting very far.



We don’t have to talk with words

Our actions speak in many colors

Our manner shows what our inner holds

And speaks so loud though we keep it hither

We show our inner, out in the open

Our outer lies though, at times, it’s okay

We speak of lies, of blue and purple

Our heart but glows with golden orange

I lie not now, I have never ever !

To me at times; to you but never

I utter none, though I do quite often

So close you ears, keep your eyes wide open

I play my part, I spill my heart

I do it every single minute

Just open up and read my message

Rip your soul and feel me damaged

I’m here today and I’ve become

What my thoughts are; what my actions are

See what I do and that’s who I am

That’s who I am; so, nice to meet you!



i dont wana be a statesman
i wonder how i even stand
i can be longer wish it had no end

words to write fill my mind
wish someday i could go blank
wish so do u if i would ever stop and mend

rethink redo rework
re-read every rhyme literately unfolds my mind
i write as i feel i write with a heart nauseatingly everytime

three words or less in crowd
four words make a rhyme
fifth added so it can be defined
see what i have been through you will feel divine
good bye baby, not forever in the end

makes sense here in this life
prerogative provocative rhymes in 3 or 4 lines
fool you are to understand for you think you know who i am


Endless Journey:

shreds of fog,
ripped off the morning’s body,
lay, inert, across the numb hills,
waiting to be picked by pixies
and braided into soft laces…
my thought is running,
chasing the dreams of the night,
searching among evaporating drops of dew
and shameless sun rays
for the oasis of your soul…
and as day and night melt together
in a silvery whirl of wishes,
all i keep praying for
is a way to make the sand waves
take me faster to my lover…


Chris G:

Salt scores the wounds of Knowing

And I am submerged, screaming

Let it out, break the being and the body

Carry past the bindings of this time, this place

Insubstantial, inconsequential existence

Just flesh, just thought

The thought flows on, and on,

Endless stream—

Follow it to the source

I might return to soaring

Through the wind and waves,

Breathe in,

A touch, a stroke

Inky ocean dip my essence

To this majesty, this space

Unknown, memory perhaps

That was and wasn’t,

Grinding in my fingertips,

The grainy sands of resolution—

The seagulls cry is carrying me away,

Banishing the self

Beneath expressions of desire.

Recoiling, find, a world

About the ankles—

Never, ever, all about

This dream, my fantasy

Escaping mere




We walked to the Lyon’s Den.
He bought us bubble tea.
You and I,
Had a side conversation
Through texts.
He was jealous.
We didn’t care.
We kept flirting.
There is a small
Physical attraction.
Our personalities
Are completely opposite.
That’s why we get along so well.
We tell one another
That I love you
And you love me.
We’re best friends.
Our friendship
Started up the steep hill
After that cup
Of bubble tea.
We trust each other.
I’m addicted
To that frozen drink
Because it reminds me
Of you smiling,
Your laughter,
Of your eyes
Twinkling with joy.
I love bubble tea
Because I love you.



Maybe Andy was on
to something.
screen-printed cans—
Campbell’s soup:
red and white,
silver and gray,
navy blue with a gold seal.
An icon of comfort in
the midst of so much dismay.
Tomato, Chicken Noodle,
Split Pea,
Bean with Bacon, Pepper Pot.
Mother’s Milk, Mother’s Comfort.
Bring it on.

Did you ever stop?
Really look at art?
I mean art in a grocery store?
“Wake up!”
Andy would say.
Listen closely.”

I pick up a navel orange.
Its dimpled skin
leaves a scent-mark
on my fingers.

“If you want to know me,
look at my art.”

“I’m a deeply superficial person.”

So I stare at him,
but he doesn’t glance back.
Eyes drifting to some
far-away place where
wholeness waits,
or to a party where
touching never held room
for emptiness.
The pull of gravity so great
the Mass collapses in
on itself,
Black Hole. Black Whole.

All that sparkles is
not diamond dust.
Even that wouldn’t adhere.
Your world
became glittered in so
much plastic.

Redemption plays in
pink and yellow
electric chairs.

Curl up,
snuggle in its lap
and die alone
while the nurse who
was there for you,

Oh my God,
I am heartily sorry,
So much pain.
I repeat, I repeat.
Marilyn in
black and gray
and brown,
blue and pink.
We are heartily sorry
who we aren’t,
what we are
and what they made us.

The woman handed
the boy
a piece of dense bread.
“It’s dry,” he said.
“Dunk it in your soup,”
she answered.


Hikki Chan:

Here I’m sailing on a raft made of stolen planks and oars.
The ocean thumps,
the sun squeezes sweat out my pores,
and I am searching for you.
You are my compass, my star at Cosmic north.
A drawn memory of toasting to better days,
you are.
Ahead, with one running leg,
I stumble to the helm,
call out to my men,
“She is a pretty one, boys,
and will fetch a high prize.”

The cheers are filtered
by the brim of my hat
and that crawling parrot on my shoulder,
whispering your taste,
tracing the shape of your face on my cheek
and I wish,
oh I wish, that you were boxed,
left at my door,
locked for only me.

But I wait and will continue
for when the catch is as rich in substance
as you,
lost beside the ocean
waiting to be dug up and claimed,
I would cross all seven seas
to meet you on that beach,
give away my stolen planks,
and let the bird fly free.


Like Wine:

in the city of the sun lies her palace
perennial sycamores shading footpaths to her gates
locked to trespassers.
she is the guardian of the traveling sun
her veins of blood and water
the luster of oils resplendent on her skin
the scent of a goddess embracing her
like sheer drapes on a translucent statue
soft… soft like silken weaves
her whispers like rain of light
mingling with the faint murmur of fountain waters
her chest heaving, ebbing, receding
like a wave
waiting to be revealed, touched, worshipped.
a mistress
of her own destiny
a seductress
serving her hypnotic brew in a silver chalice
a trophy to the drunken Caesar
abandoning his empire,
knocking at her gates
knocking down her gates
in an erupting fury
to be inside her, with her
breathless at her pagan altar
to shatter into embers and ashes
and fall into the precipice of her fire
and be no more.



Chained, paralyzed, pinned
Unable to move freely
In this cold prison
Created just for me
Keeping me trapped alone

The goddess enters
Smelling summer sweet
Love on her face
Concern in her voice
Kneeling next to me

She strokes my hair
Gently coos my name
Her touch of compassion
Eyes glimmer with hope
Yet she sighs sorrowfully

“Why are you here
You should be running
You should be hunting
You should be yourself
Why be imprisoned here?”

My growl rattles chains
That hold me prisoner
My eyes flare anger
Howl in my throat
Glaring at the goddess

“You put me here
Led me to this place
Let me be chained
I desired nothing more
Than to please you.”

Her angelic laugh lilted
Flowing like a brook
Through a spring field
Her eyes did not
Welling with terrible sorrow

“My sweet, lost child
I did no such thing
You were lost, wounded
You were close to death
You closed yourself to me

I brought you in
To save you now
I brought you in
Because I love you
And I always have.”

The rage blinds me
Deafens me to her words
I chose not to hear
The sweet divine logic
I would not accept
This human defeat

And this she knew
Yet she kissed me
Gently on the forehead
Motherly in her tenderness
Loving in her sweetness

She rose and turned
Her walk full of grace
She turned over her shoulder
Weakly smiling at me
Voice of sorrow and joy

“Those chains you’re in
You created them yourself
I could never do this
I chose to love you forever
As the person you are

You did not need them
You had the power
To release them alone
All you had to do
Is let it all go.”



Lu Ann:

I don’t hate you
even when sometimes you make me feel bad.

You don’t hate me
even when sometimes my words make you cry.

You’ve been my company my whole life minus three years
and I’ve been your protector, your example and tears.
I’ve been your laughter, your counselor, your breeze…
but you’ve become my petite one, my pride, my gift.

Do you remember when you wanted to play with dolls
and you were so mad when I got bored?
Or when we laughed and laughed and we coulldn´t stop
and mom got us separated but still we saw each other through the bathroom door?

It melts my heart when we fight and after two minutes we hug.
Im amazed of how much our love has grown…
Im so proud of who you have become,
there is nothing in the world I could love more.

I do not hate you, you do not hate me.
How could I hate you? How could anyone hate you?

You’re the sweetest creature on earth!

You are my sister,

my best friend…

and that’s why Im the envy of the world.

Because I´ve got you.



I’ve spent my pay check this week!

On that new gadget… the a1- Gleek!

It’s the trendiest new trend!

and I have many a trendy new friend!

I can touch this and show them that!

and I’ll be on all of the trendy people’s welcome mats!

For they look cool and that’s where I want to be!

Only the coolest places for me!

I hope  they don’t realize I’m broke!

Why are the rich one’s suddenly treating me like a joke!

I’d do anything to fit in…

including the darkest of sin!

I’m shiny and they know it…

my desperation clearly shows it!

Although I must now do what they say…

to get to tag along and play.

I am cool… that is what I want everyone to say!

Wait…who is that fool over there I see

wait …its a mirror…Oh my god!




some can only carry what their hands can hold

just how some can only feel safe in the feeling that they fold

what people hide away only adds to the mold

of what becomes comfortable creating habits of old

but if you want to break free you have to let go




The lost poet:

My old familiar friend returns

inside the sorrow softly burns

the tears well up and roll down

in my ears, there rings no sound

yet devastation consumes me not

for calmly do I stand at the spot

I drown here peacefully quiet

and accept without trying to hide it

nothing will change the love in my heart

even as chisels crack it apart



written Sept 11th 2010 14.00cet.
in memory of all who lose their lives to terrorism

the bread broke

as souls

fell from the sky

melting the harness

of our daily hope.

A strange blood spilled

black smoke

toward a godless sky

and clouds of hate

rolled up from

gutters to choke

the mind.

Skinned to


we watched


and awestruck

in sordid


as terror

fell to our feet

in real bones

and stone.

God died airborne.

You and I left

to rummage

the remains

of our humanity

for the marrow

of  decency

in the hollowed

out betrayal

of  essence



Our songs


the dead


as love letters

in invisible ink

to the universe:


our only Kaddish

our Agnus Dei, name

by beautiful name…



365 days


you said YES


all it took


just a few words


a NO was said.


365 days




you say




pick up the phone

and say

YES,I forgive you!


Without you

365 minutes

is all

I can stay!


Without a YES


is NO start to

my day


Psyche of a woman:

Some people tell me I’m wrong

because I still miss you

they tell me my feelings of loss should be gone by now,

How can they tell me what to feel and for how long?

What is the correct number of days to cry after someone dies?

And how many hours are allowed to be spent by a grave?

fifty-two weeks after the fact

I was expected to smile and forget,

no more sorrow for me, no, my time was up

my time spent in mourning was expected to end

But fifty-two weeks plus five years later,

I still miss you.



in breathless shaking and instant waking

in dreams and scores of song,

loud and long, i am dignified.

in the damnation, i am wrong.

in the ridicule, i shine brighter.

i am strong, i am the fighter.

death becomes the dance

as a choice becomes a chance

and a glimpse becomes a glance

that i ever could enhance

into a song, my voice is strong.

my anthem crying victory.



The 10th muse:

Her nights were spent that summer
on a sticky factory floor;
for the first time
her jeans were too tight and sometimes
desperation hung in the lank
of her hair like coming thunderstorms
on a sulky afternoon.
Her daydreams rubbed at reality
like grains of sand
between the burnt edges
of her shoulder blades,
a glittery tenderness
taunting the horizon like
rain over the Pacific
or the sweat
that beads on the skin of all
the lovers she might have had;
mixed heavily in her gut
with the leftover yawn
of tequila’s acid and tomorrow’s
mistakes it burnt
all the way


Ms. Peaches:

Black hues of clouds above
Spark flames from the fiery
Pits of hell but to no avail
Lust and greed, gluttony
Your envy, even sloth
With sullen, iniquitously
Allow you to stand
Pride fully plotting wrath
On the nearest standing by

Transgressions of laws divine
Willfully and deliberately
Wickedly travel around
Your destitute culture of
7 deadly sins, cheerlessly to
Bring rage and anger
Self-destruction with no
Blind eye, seeking lavish
Material things instead
Of destiny with our
Heavenly being

Resent indeed, relentlessly
and perversely loving your-
Self, contempt-ly glaring
Not just with your mind’s eye
Disrespectfully to gain only
Sexually extravagant debauchery
To over indulge brings purgatory
To your heart but still no
Attempts to repent as you waste
And waste, LUST matching GREED,
SLOTH finding PRIDE, ENVY unable
To subside, WRATHS from GLUTTONY
Still all u see is ME ME ME
Your 7 deadly sins indeed…


I never thought it would happen:

forget your fears!
leave them out
like stale beer.

poverty is temporary
as fake tattoos,
mine were butterflies
and yours cartoons.

you’re so much more
than your credit score:

money comes,
money goes.

time will fade
hunger’s residue
make the raises
meaningless, too.

but our friendship?
that will last.
I know it to be true.

we made it through middle school –
there’s nothing we cannot do.


Yeh u kno me:

I’m prone to crawling in circles when there’s company in my lair
Habits destroy intimacy.
So I let you stand on an incline and kick me while I’m down
Is it written in the palms of your hands to test me?
Never have I been this inspired to read between the lines.
You look nervous when you’re naked-
You give evil a pretty face.

I’ve loved you long enough to watch you lose your mind
under a velvet sky pinned with diamonds on a Sunday night
And you used to say it would take a nuclear bomb to split
the tethered atoms of our embrace
All it took was a decent divide of dead air to watch you walk away
without wanting to return.

I’m not impressed by how confused you’ve encouraged me to be;
I’ve been here before.
You walked me so far backwards into our potential,
it would take a fistful of tears to face the value of our time spent together
I’d rather you slap me just so I can understand
why I don’t miss the bits and pieces on the floor
I hate to watch you crumble but I’d like to see you try
Come down here with me, Hell could use the juice of you
I respond with laughter when I hear your name
I’m tickled by your scars
The loneliness lets me fall asleep at night
You’re a dirty taste in my mouth
that gets resolved the morning after with toothpaste and a reflected smile
I wish we shared a single tongue so that I could speak your language
and tell myself how sorry you must be
Perhaps there I’ll feel pain.



Unlike those who, of you, have much to reproach
I’m not here to take your name and besmirch (it)
Hitherto there has not been a subject so pure
At least nothing that defies your intoxicating allure

Perhaps that’s why others find you hard to understand
Their mind, by the non-pure, has been tainted
And it’s time these corrupted sciences, we reprimand
With you, they should become acquainted

Anything that doesn’t require formal proofs
Should become a pseudo-science
That way we might stand aloof
And “fake” scientists shall not cause our fields’ subsidence


stars shined down:

There’s a face I always see and

It was a view I’d rather liked

To a certain extreme

That breathing can only begin

When I see it smiling

By my efforts,

My foolhardy antics;

It was less than a drug but it was


And this face has become

A part of the ordinary

But it was a view I’d rather liked

To a point where selfishly

I tried to hate its expressions

When they weren’t for me

Or when they weren’t from me;

It was less than a sedative

But it rendered me


There’s a face I no longer see

Except in dreams –

In the machinations of my mind –

And it was a view I’d rather liked

So, I reached out and touched it

But like reflections undisturbed in water,

My touch destroyed it.



My eyes entranced

My heart enraptured

My head lightheaded

My ears burning

My stomach fluttering

My palms sweating

My desire building

My lips wanting

what is beautiful…


Pink Lady:

in the stillness of the mind


the soul placidly rests


blissful tranquility wraps


the core of one’s being


time falls into oblivion


as the noise slowly dies


and calm soon reigns


solitude’s silent song

from deep within


sweet lullaby for the soul



Welcome to reality:

Plumes of smoke rise from the heaps of gently glowing cinders and ashes–

O heavy heart, o sweet night

I pray thee to tell me how to overcome this plight…

For what has man done but ruin his earth?

For what has man done to rectify his blunders,

To atone for his pernicious ways

To repent for the sorrow he has inflicted upon the one who created him?

He has done none.

“Hope springs eternal”, or so they say–

“Look to the horizon for the up and coming day”

Yet when the well runs dry and arid

And the clods of terra firma blot out the distant horizon

There is nothing to be said but ‘nay’.

I look upon this subjugation with melancholy in my heart

and tears in my eyes (or is it from the soot in the air?)

For I have not only lost anything

but everything that I am infinitely bound to

I am merely a scrap piece of flimsy tissue paper

floundering in the crashing, oil-black waves.

The only thing left for me to do

Is to let go whatever bondage I have left–

The eternal symbol of freedom, of hope, of peace

To relinquish my grasp on reality (or so they tell me)

To accept the fall down the precipice with no regrets, no turning-backs,

The plunge into the icy-cold, harsh, barren tundra

Where only the dark dwell

The cruel, the heartless

The ones that bring a whole new meaning to ‘terror’ and ‘fear’ and ‘the loss of humanity’–

Yes, deus meus,

I abdicate my wings!


Inspired Destiny:

Don’t let this fire die,

The light you ignited,

Many lives before,

Remains burning,

Between these hands.

It’s kept me warm,

But it flickers,

Uncertain of our meeting,

In this life.

Absence tames these sparks,

But in your presence,

This flame burns brighter.


The Ramblings of An Idiot:


Once you filled a place,

Deep within my heart

Now you’re gone from me,

And the place lies empty


Every night, I look for you

But you will never be found

I miss you, I need you

But the place lies empty


You were always there

A kind voice in my ear

You gave me courage, strength to live

But now, the place lies empty


Did you ever care?

About me or anyone else

They all try to tell me you did, and do

But you left, and the place lies empty


Although I want to move on

I cannot replace you

I will always try to find you

Until I do, the place lies empty




Quiet, peaceful writing
Flows across the page,
Telling stories.

Across the prairie,
Down the years,
Quiet, peaceful writing

Takes us into Jim’s world
Calm days, terrible events,
Flowing across the page.

I should be content
If I wrote like this,
Telling stories.


Uncle Tree:


I shuffled down the dirt road at a snail’s pace

trying to prolong my existence,

in a feeble attempt to postpone the inevitable,

my back to a howling wind that pushed me along from behind.

The whistling in my ears muted the sneers

from a multitude of dust devils.

High noon was fast approaching,

bringing to light a tortuous certainty.

I stared down at the loosely hanging shackles

that bound me to the filth of poetic injustice.

Muttered a curse to the sentence pronounced.

Swore to the gods through the pangs of retribution.

I knew where I was headed,

and followed the footsteps of many a man most assuredly


‘Twas the last leg on a short journey to the outskirts of life’s meaning.


Stoic and reserved, the old oak cradled the edge of town,

as if guarding it from the motley graveyard just beyond.

No one would go near it’s wickedly crafted branches at night,

haunted as it was.

“Home to a hundred killer’s souls, or more…” was the talk going round.

As I looked ahead to this unjustly demonized, grand and stately tree,

which was now but a mere block away,

it became a welcome sight that beckoned me on

to greater planes of being.

It was to host my homecoming, and would be my final resting place.

A known destination that was soon to hold my soul in the balance.

Suddenly the wind died down, and I began to hear whispers.

As I neared the mighty oak,  I realized just who was doing the talking.


With fierce quickness,

that old tree told me a thousand stories I’d never heard.

Then all became quiet,

and I was left in silence to speak these last words.


The witches were gathered in their coven one night,

incantations were flying and creating a fright.


They howled and they shuddered and cackled with glee,

as they added more ingredients to their midnight’s tea.


Three pinches of moss mites, two scrapes of a gator

and four full tablespoons of over-ripened capers.


Oh, the steam was now rising in misty curlicues

as the tea went on steeping while they looked for their shoes.


“Those are mine”,  said one.  “No, they’re not”, retorted the other.

“Yours are Manolo Blahnik’s, mine are the Jimmy Choos”!



A vegetable garden full of green,

A home free from ghosts, cool, I ween.

A pink rose, a fancy book,

A big fat caterpillar upon a hook

Would be blissful to see,

If the dwell won’t involve a bumble bee.


A fresh poem is born now,

if no readers read it, wow.

A morning tour along the misty brook,

would upgrade your mood, take a look:

Ice cream, donuts, and a bottle of beer,

a hare, a chipmunk, and a deer.

To enjoy life is easy to do

Until you got flat tire on your way to the zoo.

^ ^

A hamburger, a soft drink,

An online side slipper turns your face pink.

Life could be fun

If you don’t cross the line.

To ride a horse and hunt in woods,

You have to wear protection clothes and boots.

Roam the streets or tarry in one single place,

A healthy attitude is the key to decorate your life in grace.



The ‘End’ is near,

The ‘Past’ is here.

The ‘Present’ is fear,

The ‘Forgotten’ is cleared.


The ‘Hopes’ is dear,

The ‘Much’ is peered.

The ‘Gone’ so real,

The ‘Thoughts’ arched its mere.


The ‘Little’ is served,

The ‘Worst’ in beer,

The ‘Life’ is jeered,

The ‘Poor’ is unheard ~ thrown in jails.


The ‘Many’ is killed,

The ‘Holder’ quails,

The ‘Mocking’ stays,

The ‘Weeping’ hears.


The ‘World’ lays the unreal,

The ‘Philosophers’ did their peers.

The ‘Love’ is geared,

The ‘Truth’ prevails.


The ‘Seeking’ is uncertain,

The ‘Reality’ is illusionist ~ unreal.

The ‘Strong’ stays clear,

The ‘Facts’ speaks ~ in tears.

(To be continued….)




We were so happy, my daughter and I

The thought of picking out a puppy was so exciting.

In the pound, at least a hundred beautiful dogs were barking

We peered into all the cages, it was heartbreaking, but we could only choose one

We started down the last aisle and both stared and grimaced at the one in the cage

He was a little chubby, and all of his bottom teeth protruded.  Especially one!

still we didn’t speak.  Our minds full of so many dogs who needed homes.

I thought to myself, this poor ugly guy will never get a place of his owl

Staring at the dog, he seemed to know we would pass him by

My daughter, with much hesitation said “I think, I want him!”

Oh my God, what are we thinking!  People will laugh, our family would wonder why?

So we called over the woman to open the cage.

With a slightly wagging tail, and teeth protruding he ambled over to us.

Friendly little guy, but so ugly he was cute.

We knew no one else would take him, so we did.

He is a strange little dog, with a face a mother could hardly love

But, he brings us so much love and joy.

Well, the teeth?  We tried to get it pulled or some kind of brace

The vet just said, “You will have to live with that face”



Seated in the cathedral where her wedding would take place, I was one of the first attendants because I wanted to be sure the wedding invitation was not one of her pranks to get me started. Late comers were still settling in as the ceremony was about to start.

Poor me, with my old suit inherited from my dad and my second-hand shirt, the one I had bought from the guy who sells second hand clothes down town. Of-course, there was no way I would have been able to afford new clothes for such a ceremony which I knew everyone would come looking flashy. The clothes in my wardrobe were no good so I didn’t bother flipping through.

The past three years has been about me struggling to find my feet in life after my graduation from the university with a third class. Not like I was particularly dull or I found the course I studied extremely difficult, not even that I found school life too over bearing. How could I? My Dad was a top government official in my country and gave me all I needed to make me go to school at ease. I stayed in the best apartment, drove a good car, was popular and dated the nicest girls. I was one of the famous students on campus.

It all started one lunch hour as we positioned in our favorite cafe to have snacks, when she walked in. I was stunned by her beauty and the aura she came in with. I walked up to her, as expected of me by my peers, not too long after, we were exchanging numbers with me promising to “holla” as soon as possible.

I did “holla” and we went on a date. One date, two dates and it became a routine. Fondness grew and gave birth to emotions that gave birth to love, or would I say the love that brought my doom?

We would lavish our time holding each other, building castles in the air, talking about our future marriage and how many kids we would have. We even had pictures of how our kids would look and carved out plans for them. I never thought I needed to graduate from school with a good result to actualize these dreams…or, was I even thinking then?

After our final paper and submission of dissertation, I already knew I would graduate with a third class, as I had been monitoring my GPA ever since. Not like I didn’t know it needed a boost but procrastination kept me thinking the next semester will be better. The next semester to the next semester to the semester that ends my course of study and the boost I thought I needed was not forth coming and never came.

Back home with my third class certificate, my retired dad could do nothing for me, even if he wanted to, his pals in the government had been wiped out due to change in political party. The only door that was in place for my entrance into the labor market was the certificate I will come back with, that door I ruined coming back with a third class. No company wanted a third class degree holder, not while the economy was having a fair romance with recession.

I managed to get menial jobs on contract basis but who’d pay a third class degree holder anything satisfying. Since I could not afford to get myself an apartment, my Dad’s home became my source of shelter. Thank goodness my younger brother who I shared room with had gone overseas to do his masters on scholarship.

This three years could have been less worse if the girl I spent all my useful University life with, who also was struggling to find her feet after school with her third class degree, didn’t tell me she was ending our relationship, the only tangible thing I benefited from going to the university, not because the love had fallen short but because love alone couldn’t put food on the table and we both needed food to live and love.

Now here I am, seated in the cathedral where she will say “I do” to a man who knows nothing about my life ruined from loving the girl he is about to make say “I do” and I wonder, did love ruin my life or was I practicing love when it just wasn’t the right time to do so…I wondered even more.

Organ strikes, bride walks in holding dad, groom kneels before the priest waiting for the ceremony to end so they both go home to the million dollars home he’d bought, where they’ll actualize the picture they’ve created of their kids, as the congregation (including me), stands up for the opening hymn.


Mystic Mountain:

I don’t feel sexy
At least not these days
Seems as if my sexiness got lost in a haze
A daze
A dream
An alternate reality
Cuz nowadays I’m feeling quiet unattractive
Even when random dudes on the street
Or I capture their gaze
I still feel as if
My sexiness is lost in the haze
Maybe it’s the toll that pregnancy took on my body
New proportions
Stretch marks
And mis-fitting clothes
Maybe it’s the stress or weariness of motherhood
Late nights
Early mornings
Repetition of my words just to get my point across
Reflections on my actions and their direct impact they have on these precious lives
But truly I don’t think it’s any of these things
I mean
I felt sexy last year
All pregnant and glowing
I felt sexy with my two year old running circles around me
I felt sexy in sweats when my hubby held me
So where has my sexy gone
Is it lost in my mind
Has it faded with time
Cuz at 28
I seem to relate to woman pushing 60
Yet even some of them look sexy from what I see
I must admit I was really proud of my breast
Thelma and Louise
The perfect handful to squeeze
But now for almost a year
They have hardly been touched
Or should I say caressed
Cuz too many hands to count have been on my chest
Specialist of disease
And babies
But none for pleasure
Just poking and prodding
And tracking and wondering
Cuz with all that
Still no one knows
No one can answer my questions
Of why
Or give a cure
Just test this
Test that
I’m feeling like a lab rat
And that’s not sexy
No one bit
And looking in the mirror
I just see a shriveled tit
Dark and wrinkled and crusted over
So much different than the other
And aren’t we told beauty is symmetry
So where does that leave me
Is it killing my chemisty
I try to tell myself
I was never big on cleavage anyway
But I would like to have the choice on a special day
I would like to have a bra that fits
Or a shirt that falls evenly across both tits
I mean one huge with milk
The other on the mend
What type of attraction am I pulling in
Thank God I’m already off the market
But even for him the girls are off target
Can’t be caressed
Or fondled
There goes my dreams of being
Americas next top model
And I know that self confidence comes from within
But what happens when your within is worn down
Who’s there to pick you up when you’re down
Who has the energy when we’re all worn out
Who has the words to resurrect my sexy
Cuz try as you may
I still feel as if you don’t understand
You can hold my hand
Look in my eyes
And speak to my soul
But as a woman without my womanhood in tact
All I feel is my woes
And I’m trying
I’m trying
I really am trying
But every look in the mirrors got me crying
I tried to fake it til I make it
But I never been good a fake
I’m to real
Every emotion I feel
And I’m thankful for my lesson
But I’m in need of a blessing
What must I do to move on
Do I have a memorial
For my youthful symmetrical breast
Or just move on and give it a rest
Will my sexy ever return
Or should I mourn it too
And just let it burn
I’m sure there are women out there who have suffered and survived
And are looking at me like come on you can thrive
But this state that I’m in is pulling me down
Don’t get me wrong I’m thankful for being around
But I want my sexy back
I want that spark that lights the room
But it’s hard to get that when daily you’re dressing a wound
And all the while I’m tending to my outward pains
My inner turmoil is a steaming train
Full speed ahead with no one at the wheel
I guess that’s why I had to share what I feel



Hello, everyone!

Promising Poets Parking Lot is excited to publish the 8th poetry journal of the week-October 21-27, celebrating remarkable ending of Thursday Poets Rally week 31.  All our poets are brilliant artists who have been excellent writers and poetry promotion leaders…We are proud that we have about 30 FRESH talents coming in this past week.

Let me know if I have overlooked your work or you have found errors in the work being represented here.

Thursday Poets Rally Week 32 Will

take place during the week

November 4-10.

A post about the detailed information of the Rally will be up on

November 3, 2010 at

more than 80 entries with 30 FIRST TIME participants.

Wow, Love You, New Poets!

Welcome Back, seasoned Poets!

Hope to See You All On Week 32. xxx



16 thoughts on “So Many New Poetry Flavors, Come To Try Them All

  1. Thank you Jingle I am honored to be among such great poets as these. Many of these are poems are favorites of mine and many are new treats but I see quality in every shining star that you have posted here and I am thrilled to read each one. Have a great day.

  2. Jingle, You are amazing. Seeing all these works on one post is a reminder of the wonderful opportunity to be in the company of peers I admire and I am honored to be a part of. I look forward to future works.


  3. I’m honored to be in the company of such talented and creative people. Thank you, Jingle, for all the wonderful effort you put forth for our benefit. I really appreciate you. xoxo

  4. hey,

    jingle, I have been unavailable for the last 7 weeks from blog-o-sphere due to some unavoidable reasons.
    Thanks for the nominations here.
    you have been a real mentor for me. 🙂
    I would be resuming my entries on all the other pages.

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