Archive for the ‘Poetry’ Category

Indeed, its hurts, but in poetry it tingles just as sweet.
I feel it today.

My spirit flags up,

In pride and admiration for this movement,
Not against any race but for a race that has transcended
A race that has had the guts to dream,
Through snuffles and tears,
And the patience to dare imagine that one day… just one day
We held up high, with pride some deemed we shouldn’t posses, 
And even with the intimidating chains and wires
Assassinations and brutality,
History of slavery,
Ripples of poverty and disease
We were maimed and troubled.
Today is, Yesterday Was, Tomorrow Will Be
And just … just one day
“One day, when the glory comes
It will be ours, it will be ours
Oh, one day, when the war is one
We will be sure, we will be here sure
Oh, glory, glory
Oh, glory, glory glory…”


Posted: November 12, 2014 in Poetry
Tags: , , ,


Is it the detox by the caffeine?

Or the spirits trapped in my brains

Can’t remember last cutting paper this deep

Guess I can’t recall last I really did feel

How was it that you didn’t swing the first fist ?

And now it’s in me guilt feasts

Not even sure why this really stings.

Time my teacher, but not my best friend

You tick and waste no time for a grip

How quickly you fly and leave me behind your ticks

Toking your staccato steps with no stern warnings of my level of deep shit

That I am sinking under tossing down the stenches

Of my thoughtless passion and folly

Time is not my best friend

For it didn’t wait to waste a dime of its arm to stretch an embrace

So that it warns subtly of the brutality of failing to pay its due minute of attention

Time is not my best friend; he spites me for not heeding keenly to his counsel

And my face falls and Time walks away for a lesson I have to pay

And I cry, solemnly waiting for a second round of chance to replay

History I will make in coming days,

Time will only judge as hay

hey, I got derailed, I wait not but catch up your nippy steps turning my back to my older ways

Life’s next mischiefs

Posted: April 27, 2011 in Poetry

We forever keep marveling at life’s obscure sense of humour

Accustomed to grief, dine with sorrow

Fiery ferocity

Deluging waterworks

Sensually until it blossoms to bliss

Loving the taste of it

And the self-embrace between covers

Quivered up with indefinable grief

Coupled with fond thoughts of yesterday

Bloodshot and swollen eyes

Exposing a bleeding soul

A Wondering spirit

Who makes it a student of time

And a disciple to heaven’s sent conviction

And a hush enthusiast to hades

In it you smile at the oddest

In gracefulness you mould your fortitude

And cry and forgive like a child.

In time your reflection reveals, a wondrous sculptor, your own art

That’s Life’s obscure sense of humor, that cycles round and round

Until then… …. Let’s keep our diaries open, our intentions disclosed and hearts exposed to life’s next mischiefs

Breaking dream

Posted: July 19, 2010 in Poetry

and the script was dreary even before I could I cram my thoughts to write this breaking dream To establish that which blocked this spirit to scribble a broken dream, a breaking story that instigated unhappiness I held up my tears lest they could betray my face Cheating my deepest emotion How I wish I could unlock this secrecy How I hope today could wave away To a better-off day

From the corner of her eye

And the slyness of her shy

From the quiet laughter she makes

And the swagger in her mystery

Wishing she’d paddle your paltry life and pat you under her skin

Silken and cushioned

Her gentleness, confirmed by her bosom

When she hurts she burns in rant and rave

But she’s never damaged

Sits strong and stands tall

Her tenor is bright and so are her eyes,

When she’s cheerless; it’s a clog of grief

Save for with a giggle; the world’s a jamboree,

… And in time you see

How truly royalty she is