JAZZ ME UP BABY

Carmen McCrae played her games with me. She touched my heart while breathing sweet melody in my ear..."All is fair in looovvvee"....She moved me to a place painted with red, stone cold beneath my feet. And in the corners of this ruins were eyes,
Crawling up on me
Crawling up my thighs
Digging through my eyes.

And as I kept walking, a voice soared above me like a musical ribbon that hangs from the high rocks where temples perch. There he was, John Coltrane serenades me as wind moves above the floor, with a rhythm gnawing at me.

In this place was a war between strings and keys.
He moved towards me, tongue in cheeks he resonates in treble clef, bass, alto and tenor..." Baby, do you know my heart?...I take nothing from you, but give all to you..."
Tata ta doodoo doom

I stood with wild eyes as women spun cartwheels joyously in torn chemise. Men stood and twirled the mustaches. Voices were an instrument bouncing off the feet of wandering souls.
Ascends the rapids.
Abyss without limits.
Blood and flesh vanishes.
Bodies dispossessed.
Space becomes void.

"Whhooo yah....baby spin me harder, lift me higher" dancing in motion...motions without actions.

Homer and Troubadours with their siren sung. Like solemn in a prayer, their hands clasped around me, reverence in vocal mutiny....Pulling me to the dance floor.
Memories echoes and echoes,
they swung me high,
twirled me around in notes so profound.
Skirts danced,
Pianos strum my waltz,
Hair whips with fierceness.

Badaboom...Tata ta ta....saxophone resounds.

Frolicking on the axis of the wheel of life in music and cocktails. High enough to the feel the golden stars brush my face and moon glowing with sweet ambiance. And beneath me, was no one to catch me...The music stopped.

Alone nude in my bed room with the boom box playing silence...I felt the cold floor on my cheeks.
I sleep now with a stereo in my dreams...Jazz me up baby!

MY ANGRY VAGINA- Monologue originally written for Whoopi

My vagina's angry. It is. It's pissed off. My vagina's furious and it needs to talk. It needs to talk about all this shit. It needs to talk to you. I mean what's the deal — an army of people out there thinking up ways to torture my poor-ass, gentle loving vagina. Spending their days constructing psycho products, and nasty ideas to undermine my pussy. Vagina Motherfuckers.

All this shit they're constantly trying to shove up us, clean us up — stuff us up, make it go away. Well, my vagina's not going away. It's pissed off and it's staying right here. Like tampons — what the hell is that? A wad of dry fucking cotton stuffed up there. Why can't they find a way to subtly lubricate the tampon? As soon as my vagina sees it, it goes into shock. It says forget it. It closes up. You need to work with the vagina, introduce it to things, prepare the way. That's what foreplay's all about. You got to convince my vagina, seduce my vagina, engage my vagina's trust. You can't do that with a dry wad of fucking cotton.

Stop shoving things up me. Stop shoving and stop cleaning it up. My vagina doesn't need to be cleaned up. It smells good already. Don't try to decorate. Don't believe him when he tells you it smells like rose petals when it's supposed to smell like pussy. That's what they're doing, trying to clean it up, make it smell like bathroom spray or a garden. All those douche sprays, floral, berry, rain. I don't want my pussy to smell like berries or rain. All cleaned up like washing a fish after you cook it. I want to taste the fish. That's why I ordered it.

Then there's those exams. Who thought them up? There's got to be a better way to do those exams. Why the scary paper dress that scratches your tits and crunches when you lie down so you feel like a wad of paper someone threw away? Why the rubber gloves? Why the flashlight all up there like Nancy Drew working against gravity, why the Nazi steel stirrups, the mean cold duck lips they shove inside you? What's that? My vagina's angry about those visits. It gets defended weeks in advance. It won't go out of the house. Then you get there. Don't you hate that? "Scoot down. Relax your vagina." Why? So you can shove mean cold duck lips inside it. I don't think so.

Why can't they find some nice delicious purple velvet and wrap it around me, lay me down on some feathery cotton spread, put on some nice friendly pink or blue gloves, and rest my feet in some fur covered stirrups? Warm up the duck lips. Work with my vagina.

But no, more tortures — dry wad of fucking cotton, cold duck lips, and thong underwear. That's the worst. Thong underwear. Who thought that up? Moves around all the time, gets stuck in the back of your vagina, real crusty butt.

Vagina's supposed to be loose and wide, not held together. That's why girdles are so bad. We need to move and spread and talk and talk. Vaginas need comfort. Make something like that. Something to give them pleasure. No, of course they won't do that. Hate to see a woman having pleasure, particularly sexual pleasure. I mean make a nice pair of soft cotton underwear with a French tickler built in. Women would be coming all day long, coming in the supermarket, coming on the subway, coming happy vaginas. They wouldn't be able to stand it. Seeing all those energized, not taking shit, hot happy vaginas.

If my vagina could talk it would talk about itself like me, it would talk about other vaginas, it would do vagina impressions.

It would wear Harry Winston diamonds, no clothing, just there all draped in diamonds.

My vagina helped release a giant baby. It thought it would be doing more of that. It's not. Now, it wants to travel, doesn't want a lot of company. It wants to read and know things and get out more. It wants sex. It loves sex. It wants to go deeper. It's hungry for depth. It wants kindness. It wants change. It wants silence and freedom and gentle kisses and warm liquids and deep touch. It wants chocolate and trust and beauty. It wants to scream. It wants to stop being angry. It wants to come. It wants to want. It wants. My vagina, my vagina. Well...It wants everything. 

COPPA COLPR HALF CHINY

Dem can try….Dem can try

But dis natty head, long hair

Leather skin chile

Nah go mek society kneed

Nuh blow job- from gun shot,

Sid dung pon road side life style.

Nah Rub fi look like duppy,

Nah put pon mi head wat is not fi mi.

Self hatred and low self esteem nah do it fi me.

Mi bigga dan dat…Mi betta dan dat

Dis coppa color half chinese catty

Nah go mek nuh random man

Feel up feel up,

Touch up touch up har batty

Yuh MAD?! End up a oman centre?

Fi wat? Beg a likkle fi mek a muckle

Fi mi unborn chile? Fid dat? YUH MAD?!

Weh dem feel like?....Weh mi look like?

Man fi si dis and see Prado, X5 an Range Rover

Not nuh insignificant speck

Weh mongrel dogs a dead over!!!

Dis half chinie a di oman weh mek Tyrus Riley

Sing “she’s royal, so royal”

Suh man must kno dem place

And stay loyal.

Nuh mek mi shining beauty blind yuh,

Mi chop up standard English fool yuh,

Or mi “wana be” Cocoa Bukle shape provoke yuh

Cause unda dis coppa color half chinie ass

A one fullbread WOMAN of class.

One bag a talking

Fi get di Catty walking

Mi nuh bruk man wallet, seh mi a 'service' oman

Mi nuh spread out, or “si dung pon it”.

Mi nuh “fling it up” fi nuh one night stan

Fi Joe Grine and Oral sing “PRAM PRAM”?

Kiss mi nek side, anyting can go suh?

Man start mek pass seh dem can eat yuh like mango?

Mi nuh haffi have a man fi mek me happy

A me a di Wifey inna proverbs terty.

Mi have di cross all ova pon mi

Mi a try fi live di path a Christianity

WOMAN 3

Journey with me as I take you through the mind and heart of a young woman. Journey to her third life with a third party. For in all her existence, this number has played a comical role in her voyage through life. Stigmatized in the triangles that swayed her emotions, played her heart as strings of a harp…melodious, calm, gentle and yet pronounces a story, a song that so powerfully evokes tears and understanding from the audience she writes her tune to. The ears that sees her life as she portrays it. For in her words are songs of passion, portraits of colors as the artist relays her message on canvas……hard canvas, rough canvas, strong canvas. She is now a painter of words in different Hues and different shades. How ironic these colors are in her life. For the hue is personified as the one who gradually makes her heart whole again, no longer belonging carelessly to another, no longer halved between the love for herself and the loved of another….the love for the shade that darkened her heart. The hue now sheds light upon her shaded demise. She gradually separates herself from the women of yesterday, from a woman, a seductress, a Christian, a daughter, a lover and me, all one. She is no longer the woman who tells the story of how the carnal and innate nature took hold of a man who wore a naked ring upon his finger, a ring of promises, and a woman who wore a half halo above her head. For this halo is now whole as she dreamed it to be. She offers Mr. Columbus just a portion of her existence as a gratitude for discovering the wavering foundation her heart was embedded and for returning it whole again. His name, Columbus, the discoverer of an already discovered territory. His name will be written in the archives of all that is good and pure in her life. For a Friend he forever will be.

This is not a story of the great painter, But of the painter and her world. The triangle of bliss and of detriment. Allow me to paint on your heart of canvas as my brush strokes the minds of curious bystanders, the picture portrayed through hues, shades and colors. First shade is his name, the black man she adorned herself with, the one she bled tears and love to be with. The one who wore the transparent ring upon his finger and through time made evident his loyalty to it while still being disloyal to her heart. Had I not painted that my character and her lover were alike in worlds……INSEPARABLE, for her world was now his and his shared between her world and the best man’s? And even now her existence shares the disposition Mr. Shade finds himself in. Through experiences only, can the human mind fathom the unfathomable choices we sometimes make. She paints her life in an effort to only resonate with her own understanding of herself. A WOMAN she is, "torn between her passions and moral ideals, who enjoys loving the difficulty that presents itself" in the characters I have here manifested. My character now sympathizes and understands Mr. Shade’s triangle, one that he is bound to and one his soul lusts after. But this is not a painting of the shades, for time has gradually elapsed the bond and attachments she once had with this soul….she still loves, but only for satisfaction in the stallion and his conquest. Her heart now palpitate another song. Her heart is still partly his and part of his heart for another man alike is now partly her heartbeat……Their hearts are still whole…… Half her heart belongs to him and half of his heart for his confidant is now her heartbeat…two halves make a whole. I wish to keep this painting as abstract as it can be, for in the deepest strokes of this brush and the weaving of my canvas lies a hidden truth that can be detrimental to pure love and pure friendships….ruined for the sake of love. Funny how LOVE, in the true meaning of the word can be so fascinating and builds a lifetime of happiness, whilst alternately destroys another’s opportunity of experiencing this love….crumbling his world to a mere birth and death cycle. LOVE can raise a thousand army of passion, purpose in breath, and at the same time put to grave a pair of soul connection in familial and friendly love. Not gay in preference but a love that is gay in trust, trust for one man alike in nature for the consideration of the other and longevity beyond love for one woman and beyond hardship. Just as the lover, the poet and now the painter that I have presented u had shared this guilt of hurting another woman, only indirectly.

Oh how her heart aches and bleeds red when she dips into the vase of truth to paint only what her hands and her heart allows. It bleeds red though her hand wishes to part the tides of principles from the overflow of selfishness. Principles outlined by society that one should not love more than once, and selfishness in that just as Mr. shade wishes to keep his world a darkened secret to forever share with his lover, now does the lover…me…..I….share this fantasy…but no longer for him. And Mr. Shade justifies by his most colorful yet deceitful poetic truth……“Funny how the world turns”…for some reason I really like that phrase. There should be unbreakable rules to this love game…laws that are inviolate – like the law that governs gravity for example. What goes up must come down...it can’t just float about”. The painter……The lover……The poet and I…… all stand on the firm truth that Mr. shade, the beautiful cheat has so beautifully expressed that if life hadn’t dished out in such abundance the irrevocable experiences and words uttered, that maybe we wouldn’t have gone through if this were the case, if the actual rule that existed said: “one cannot love more than once”…but now she shares this guilty bliss. It is possible to love more than once and possibly at the same time, for to her, love has gone knocking on his neighbor’s door……The one closest to his heart. And if he rejects the offer she once again presents to him, of having her entire being become his territory to forever abide…then shall she search another occupant…..one much more willing and deserving to abide in her abode.

I now paint my last word……the words that should remain unprinted and so I will paint it in all colors of the spectrum…for in these colors are emotions that lies skin deep and beyond all that meets the eyes. Her heart still refuses to let him go while she still satisfies her body….still being loyal to him……she simultaneously offers her thoughts and a portion of her existence to the Mr. Hue, the lighter one in the wheel of colors. And as much as the difference lies in their color…their souls differ in the magnitude of appreciation they offer her. For only by names do they differ. Columbus has found her heart and could possibly take sanctuary there, but Mr. Shade’s name is still printed on it.

“To me you’re a songbird, precious, with a song inside you that not even you can fully express…just continue to shine as you do, and give the love that’s waiting for you the chance to fulfill itself”…If only this love had been of a different time……For she still loves him, though she tries not to.

GERI

Ok its odd that i chose to name this one Geri after never interacting with him before his death. But his death sparked a lot of awareness in many of my friends life.

All i can say is this:
my god...life is soo fascinating yet complex.....we spend days planning and preparing for a future that might or might not belong to us, because one day we may be unexpectedly pardoned from it. And though we may not know it, we make life irrelevant when we deny ourselves the opportunity to fully enjoy it by putting ourselves in the way of disaster and death.

Don't test death, because one day the test will be over. Simply put, don't put yourself in the way of danger. This is unexpected from me, being that I am a woman who enjoys the risks in life and feather myself after each success, but one day, I know it will catch up to us. I bathe myself in this victory and chain myself from death....Remember man is like dust, we are here one day and gone 2maro, never quite understanding how life could turn so dramatically.

Its like acquiring money....We work 8 hours, 5 days a week to earn some money..and before you know it, its gone in less time u take to earn it. Life is pretty much like that, we invest our emotions, or time, our life, our laughter, our mourning, our sorrow and our love in a soul that we treasure so dearly...One we consider a friend....snatched from the very gift of life, snatched from the people who loved him unconditionally, not favouritism, but unfavourable, unconditional love. I am sure this is the love many of you shared for Geri or any one you've lost who is so dear to you.

I tell ppl all the time, prepare today for 2maro yes....but enjoy to the max the days u do live, and don't wait to live life for the hope of 2maro. LIVE IT NOW. Its like saving for future investment that may never manifest. I know that Geri might have already during the short course of his life and most recently planned for the summer, ATI, graduation etc.

Enjoy and love the people in ur life and be kind to the ones u don't know, u might be that string of hope in another persons life. And live a life to be remembered, whilst u r still living and even after ur departure so that not only ur name but also ur existence may be worth more than the mere resounding of ur name. MARK UR LIFE AS A PATH TO BE FOLLOWED AND NOT TORTURED....leave a legacy.

TE NECESITO EN MI VIDA

lento... No, no lento pero no existiendo, eso es tiempo cuando estoy alrededor de usted El ritmo de la paliza del corazón... lento a un mero arrastra. El aliento falla de salir mi cuerpo y la sangre en venas congeladas. Cuándo yo estoy con usted mi cuerpo refleja lo que mi alma se siente. Mi alma sólo deseo para estar con usted, para que que podemos hacer el la mayor parte de nuestro tiempo juntos. Así que mi cuerpo lento tiempo de aceptar los deseos de mi alma.

Nada es mas guapo y hermoso como usted.
Besos Besos

COURAGE TO LOVE

FROM A SOUL SISTA TO ANOTHER...A FREN ADVISING ANOTHER FREN...SOUND LIKE SOAP OPRA FOR TRUE.

Love can be so exciting and then again so amusingly dreadfull. Two people inlove, it sounds like that none of you two wants to give up with this "relationship". Each one for his/her personal reasons, of course. You are deeply in love with him and he is confused and selfish, like the 90% of the men. Obviously this doesn't mean that he is not in love with you. Conversely he loves you but, as I see it, he is one of those people who are terribly scared of falling in love. Generally this type of people prefer staying in a quiet, safe affection-relationship, feeling they have everything under control rather than putting themeselves into a troubleful whirlpool of love and passion. YOU MUST HAVE A BRAVEHEART TO LOVE. And you must be capable of mastering the situation because when you are in love you have no defences. You are vulnerable like a baby.
You will learn that most of the men are not bravehearted at all, even though they are taught to carry a rifle...
Anyway I don't mean that he's not bravehearted at all, but in this occasion he seems more to belong to the category "not equipped" than to the other minority of "full equipped".

Well, I stop writing now because it has just come to my mind one of my grandgrammy's famous statements, that was: " you'll never really learn it until you live it ". So, live it and leave it, Theresa! you are walking your path and this is only a stage, believe me.

Much love sista

STORY ABOUT COURAGE

My dada told me this one one day to encourage me..

There were three men on a journey to a treasure...wen they reached they saw from a distance 2 big lions 
guarding the treasure....one man backed away and turned back becuz he feared...the second went half way and 
turned back after the lions roar

the third man was persistent in gettin the treasure that he went with courage and wen he reached the treasure, he saw that the 2 lions were chained and could not move...he took without any obtacle in his way.

yeah...its the same with God...we must have the courage to endure through any obstacle in our way, because the treasure god promised us is there and waiting, our own blessings...we jus need to take courage and never fear.

SUNSET, SUNRISE aka FRIENDSHIP

A RELATIONSHIP IN MANY CASES IS LIKE A SUNRISE,
IT HAS A WARMTH BEAUTIFUL BEGINNING.
COLOURS ARE BRIGHT AND BREATH TAKING,
IT MAKES YOUR HEART SKIP MANY BEATS.
IT MAKES YOU STOP AND SAY "WOW WHAT A WONDERFUL FEELING"
IT MAKES YOU SMILE AT THE SILLIEST OF THINGS, IT MAKES YOU CRY AT THE JOY IT BRNGS.
IT CAN HOLD YOU IN PLACE WITH A GENTLE KISS ON YOUR FACE, SOMETIMES HOLDS YOU EVEN CLOSER, SENDING YOU INTO OUTER SPACE.

IT CAN MAKE YOUR TOES CURL, YOUR BEADS OF SWEAT DRIP IN PLACES BEYOND YOUR CONTROL, THE HEAT EMBRACES YOU, IT OOZES LOVE, IT OOZES PASSION.....IT SIMPLY OOZES. IT CAN MAKE YOU LOSE TRACK OF TIME, DAMN THAT SUNRISE IS WICKED DAMN THAT SUNRISE IS MINE, IT HAS YOU UNDER A SPELL....WITH LAUGHTER HOPE AND JOY......

AND

THEN AS TIME RACES BY, IT DECENDS INTO THE GREAT UNKNOWN, THE SUNRISE THAT CAPTURED YOU IS NOW FADING AWAY, IN WHITE,
RED, BLUE AND GRAY.
HEART FILLED WITH PAIN, DRAINING ITS SELF FROM ALL THE LOVE IT GAINED, ERASING THE JOY IT MADE....THE COLOURS ARE STILL GRAY, AN EMPTY FEELING YOU MUST PAY, FOR LETTING THE SUNRISE GET AWAY.
WARM TEARS DANCE ON YOUR CHEECKS, YOUR HEART STILL BEATING YET IT BLEEDS, THE LOVE YOU THOUGHT YOU HAD, BUT NOW ITS LOVE HAS OTHER NEEDS.
YOU STAND IN AWE OF THE BEAUTY YOU ONCE HELD, AND NOW YOU STAND THERE READY TO YELL," COME BACK TO ME WITHOUT YOU LIFE IS HELL".

BUT YET THAT DAMN SUNET, BIDS FAREWELL TIME TO RING SOMEONES ELSE'S BELL, BECAUSE WHAT WE HAD WAS GREAT BUT MY LOVE FOR HAS COME TOO LATE.
WE WERE NEVER MEANT TO BE, SO MOVE ON AND FORGET ABOUT ME. DONT, WORRY THERE WILL BE ANOTHER SUNRISE TOMORROW AND YOUR LOVE WILL GAIN ALL A BRAND NEW POWER.

This was written by Susie Braham...a talented poet, this poem spoke to me while it spoke my life.

RANDOM THOUGHTS

I often hear people say….”If we were meant to be together then we will”…I believe that too. But it comes with conditions. How can u say “if you were meant to be…” if you refuse to put the effort into seeing that “it is”, I mean remove the “if” from the equation. How will you truly know that it was meant to be if some of us just sit around and check our clocks to see if that person will some how, miraculously, read your mind and act in the way you expect them to?....We are all human, and in this life, I know that things don’t always go the way we plan. We would want for that person to feel the love and admiration we have for them through some telepathic communication…but the truth is, he/she will only feel it and know it if u tell them. How can you say “if it was meant to be…” if you refuse to let them know your inner most desires, desires for “it to be”. You can create an obstacle to that possibility ever coming true...

…Picture this, You were meant to be but one die...u were meant to be but u waited too long, she/he gets married...then u’ll regret....Let me let you in on the secret to ever knowing if it was meant to be…Its quite simple…How u know if u were meant to be is if u guys try a relationship....if it lasts then u were meant to be...if it doesn’t then the answer is obvious...it wasn’t meant to be...BUT U WONT KNO UNLESS U TRY. I don’t mean the teens stuff, I mean committed relationship….Both of you loving and living for each other…Not this world of infidelity. So don’t just dream dreams and see visions of the life you think you’ll have with that special person….Don’t just limit yourself to the “I wonder” or the “If”…especially the “I wish I could…if I had another chance”. Take that chance now…Don’t be complacent as you are. Many times we say these things when it is a case where that special person is no longer in your life…whether it be distance that separates you….or maybe that person just couldn’t wait much longer and moved on…or maybe he/she walked out or vice versa…..You will never know unless you give it a try because thats the only thing in life that affects ppl the most....not finances...not work...not skool...all those things can be solved...but LOVE is the most complicated and exciting thing ever.

Inspired by my cuz K.C

AUGUST 13TH 06

August 13, 2006

Eight months passed with grief and pain
But love, comfort and companionship I had gained.
When we beheld each other in that familiar place
Time departed and we became one, two erased.
And only for that five minutes we remembered our past
Both anger, pain, joy and happiness we encompassed.
Face to face again we once laid it all down
Through mind games our ego resound.
He’s not giving in, I’m not saying it loud
But together again made it seem we were in clouds.
Our bodies anticipated what our hearts cant conceive.
Bodies pulls us closer
Hearts and minds draws us farther.
Time and distance had been vehement in his appearance.
Roughened up and chiseled, yet prosperous in his stance.
Since love had diminished never departed,
Beauty had I seen had gone from him whole hearted.
The man I was enamored over
Had lost with his beauty and composure
A wife, a friend and a soul mate.
Tender hearts never to recuperate.
I’ve missed that forbidden pair and history
But our future or not remain a mystery.
A mystery it will forever be
Because that beast I once loved will never have me.

Aug 14, 2006
Gary’s b’day (S.D)

SQUARE ONE

Back to square one, where we again say our byes
And “I love you”. But always knowing there is a possibility that
Our byes are just foreshadowing of the hellos to come
And the “I love you” to confess.
For we have too often been caught in this temptress snare
Where we both fooled ourselves into thinking that there is a future here
Behind this forbidden pair is only love in secret and not in joy.
I say my farewell as though I only fair thee well,
But never ill of you my darling.
For too often I question the sincerity in your eyes,
I feel the doubt in you confessions.
For where there is doubt, there is no love
Love and doubt never coexist.
You say with such ease that you love me,
But why is your love ever a great mystery?

CHILDREN ARE THE FUTURE

Once we were all just a seedling ,vulnerable to the world, living off what you heard, what you saw and how you felt. Not caring how anyone felt about our lives. After all, they had to care, its their responsibility. Yes, we were all babies once, being cared for and fed by the ones who loved us, the ones who implanted in us love and a bright future. After all, aren't we the future, " the children are our future" or are we the bright future passed? Whether we are or not, we've all lived a life not knowing what is to become of ourselves in the future. We've grown, we've matured and we've learned.We've blossomed.

How fortunate for us, look where we are now. From being that spark in someones life to owning our own life, then lighting another spark of vulnerability that becomes our responsibility to teach well. There are however others far from fortunate and for them its fortunate that they breath, but do they breath love and care or just emptiness? I've come to realize that life isn't just a bucket of gold with opportunities to grab at, life isn't all about me, my friends and what I want! No, there are children and babies who see living as a pain, and prays for an end instead of a better life.

For my service to the community, some would say it would be rather best on my part to partake in a service that would benefit me in the long run; service in the law firm or at a media center, something geared towards giving me a better future. But time had caught up with me and my last resort was to accompany my friends to the Tropical Medicine Research Unit, to some a baby ward, where babies just like I once was are treated for sickness. It was very depressing to know that these babies to become men and women of the future are threatened by their ailments and might not live the life God had planned for them. Here I came to realize my duty, it was not giving service to the community but giving hope to the children. These children were deprived of nourishment, some because they were abandoned .I found that I possessed the ability, to not only be a teenager, but the ability to be a mother (in the true sense of the word). I talked with them, I fed them, I put them to sleep. I saw a common characteristic found in the babies and adults like ourselves, they hardly smiled. It bothered me to think that they are just babies with no burdens or worries; hey had no bills to pay, no worries about survival, why were they sad? Their sadness scarred me, so I strive to make them laugh and I realized each time they did they were happier, they went to sleep smiling and happy. That made me happy, I gave hope. Sure their constant crying annoyed me at times, amused me sometime, but babies will always be like that. They no longer cried in pain, but they cried when we were leaving. Maybe they thought I was their hope, that made me feel good, but I saw a hope that was lit and will only be put out by death.

I played with the children, I sang to them, fed them, those were my major roles while at the ward. But I did more than that, I prayed for them and that brought me joy. Life isn't all about me, it was more than that; helping those that needed help, changing the lives of those who had no hope. I no longer looked at the bony babies who struggles to breath, to live, I no longer looked at them in pity of their discolored skin that peels away everyday or their light weighted bodies, I saw the successful men and women of tomorrow. I guess time caught up with me for a reason, God had a plan for me. I completed my community service in success. I've grown, I've matured, I've learned and I've blossomed. Service was given to the hospital ward, Hope was given to the children and a brighter future I received.

THE END

I WILL TRY

My life is not that easy
I wana look in the mirror and not see a distorted figure
I want to be happy in me
And not for everybody.
I wana look in the mirror and see smiles as bright as the sun
A girl pure in body whose heart has never been parted
Forcibly like the parting of my legs.
I want not to be embarrassed and run from my pain.
But look me in the eyes and say “ I’m beautiful”
I want true love.
It’s the scariest thing in the world to confront the mirror
That so blatantly shows me what I am,
But hides what I can be.
I will try to share my whole with the world.
I will try.

June 9, 2006
Open heart surgery
Separating two chambers of one heart

INSPIRATE YOURSELF

Read and enjoy....be filled with the memories of the past....feel that which ancestors have heir-ed you to feel...and spread your wings and mount to the highest you, where there exist no boundaries...only those you create for yourself. Remember you are your own worst story...you create....you destroy....you are the author of life's turmoil...you are your own spinster of happiness...so spin a web of love.....you are your own destiny, fated by God. Never loose sight of the power you manifest....the power given to you by God...the power of freewill and self control. Never be blinded by the rainbow of glass and not diamond....you deserve the best of life....grab at it...don't settle, yet never set limits unreachable or unrealistic. LOVE yourself...and others will too.

Its hard to fathom….you have wings but you’re not able to fly.
What will you do…Jump?

EYES OF THE BEHOLDER

No one is mad, there is no such word. It should be banned from all dictionaries, a law set against the utterance of this word. A word I will write a lot and then suffer the consequences of its repeatedness.

Is he mad because his eyes beholds the world in a different light, is it because he sees life different from you, is it because he interrupts the norms of society. What is Mad, is it in the eyes of the beholder?

He was scorned, he was beaten, he was chopped and scorched by the very sins of life, betrayed by the very norms of society, the very commandments of the bible, his ground that supports him forces him down. Is he mad, is he insane. What is mad, is it in the eyes of the beholder?

“We are god’s, we are angels”, Is he mad for thinking that? Christians is he a blasphemy for preaching that? His brother, the norm, the law and principles of the bible, blinded him into seeing the true meaning of love, the true purpose of a brother. Is he mad for trying to rid himself of agony, of his brother?


Read these inscriptions done by a mad man and answer me this, Is he a mad man?
Aron
Aear hand have the rod, some use it as a wip on plantation, slave se dis as them plee in when ear slave master hand. There is no slave master now, but a still ear ‘pow’ from gun in a hand. Some Dis and se a ple in a court when ear hand of the police.
Moses law ‘ thou shalt not kill’

Put this mad man words together ‘ Dissepleinearhand’, the secret behind these words behold ‘ disciplinarian’. Its amazing the hidden truth behind this word. Is he mad for expressing himself. In the mind of the sin, of this blasphemy, of this mad man, is the wisest insight on life. MAN BETRAY MAN, slave masters hurt slave, now polices ( disciplinarian) kill man, and one is lucky if he hears the hand of them and not feel the wrath of the rod.

The light he clings to is the one who sees him as a man but hypocritically accepts him as mad. Is he mad to consider him a friend and not a brother. A brother, one he never had, one who causes him agony. Is he mad , is he insane?


‘Mad’, its in the eyes of the beholder. Am I Mad, are you mad to think he is mad? Who gave man the power to discriminate, who gave man the power to define this blasphemous word, to create such a sinful word. Who gave man the authority to kill, not physically but also emotionally. Am I mad for thinking so, for questioning the abnormal which lies within you. Who says he is mad. Are we mad in his eyes. Madness its in you and me, it is in the eyes of the beholder.

JADLJ

So many hearts I've found
Rejected and alone like mine.
So many done, found undone
And every now and then I try to mend the damage.

To think that I did not forget
That song of love we fabricated
I just want to hold you close
Close enough so you can hear your name
on my every heart beat
Close enough you can feel
My body rejuvenate for you.

All I wished was for us to coexist
All three
You...Me...Creator
Who created love, mu love
my love for you.

And yet I feel that we've found a common ground
A heart yearning cry for God
A common ground that made me overflow with love
And Yet...It separates me from you.

WOMAN 2

I wish to tell you another story of another woman. Passionate and loving in nature with good will to another. Her name was all that, and all that she was. A story of poet who used words to express and release her inner most feeling, but was entrapped by the strength invoked by the feelings printed on the manuscripts of her life. Now she became one with her poem, yet separated from the words, as each emotion it evoked only became evident in her life. Her life shared with a man of seven years her senior, but the same in mind, body, heart and soul. Her poetry became the very being of this one man, personified through love, hurt, guilt, and passion. He became her masterpiece, her manuscript. He spoke many languages, but the language of love was his strength and also his weakness. I wish to tell you the story of how the carnal and innate nature took hold of a man who wore a naked ring upon his finger, a ring of promises, and a woman who wore a half halo around her head. And how they raced the clock to exchange passion for passion, adventure for loneliness, guilt for mere pleasure and heart for heart. In that short space of time where they hastily uprooted forbidden love, they also carved a path that when journeyed together lead to Hopes and desires. Hopes that the naked ring would remain transparent on his finger, half dormant as the love he attached to it, yet forever attached. Desires that one day her half halo would be whole while he completes her.

I want you to feel the passion and love she willingly gifted him with, and to share the yearning desires he had to be with her but could never…would never… allow for himself, while to another he had vowed to live on the path prescribed for him, A man of honor as the great husbands of this world did, yet a husband he never was. To live loyal in a world scorched with infidelity…I grant him one favor…for being loyal in body, because while he still offered his heart and his body to another woman, he still offered her the deceitful bliss of only being hers. And with this, my character, to some the “woman on the side”, the “back burner”, but I’ll call her the lover…with this knowledge she willfully stayed. These great writers and fabricators of love failed in their portrayal of her. They failed to recognize the ingenuity, the humane being incorporated in my character, great philosophers could not find the hidden beauty and truth to the lover, and they failed to recognize her. For in her does love flow like the natural waters that nourishes the earth. Hidden beauty…she is bashed for only loving a man of another. She only loves with her entire being to see him well, to see him happy and prosperous. Why then is she slandered as the dogs of this earth? Does she not live by the standards of love, only in this case one man receives true love from two women of good hearts?...She is natural and beautiful for in her is TRUE LOVE….In her lies his heart for not even that is hidden from her. Aware of her disposition in a circle of three, she relentlessly offers herself to him none the less. The lover is beautiful in her strength…the strength to suppress her pain of offering herself completely to a man who is capable of completing her, but damned with a divided heart.

Hah….life is comical. For even though they may be worlds apart or just silent in the midst of each other, they are one. Let me paint the aura of tranquility for you. He and Her, together birthing love in the naked atmosphere as the day they were born. Embracing their differences in age….difference in man and woman….but harmonious in their desire to be comforted and loved by the other. They shared this romance many time. She breathes the very air from his nostrils as food to her existence. Each time he exhales, she inhales his odor, his flaws, and his infirmities to bear upon her as Jesus did on the cross. She inhales his manly being for her own oxygen of the air. Can you blame her existence from needing his presence? She would look in the eyes of a man her entire being yearned for and vision through his eyes longevity and happiness, but through her own she only saw pain, guilt and sorrow in having to let go of what does not belong to her. And yet her hands fit so perfectly in his, her steps duplicates his to the very path he takes. But enough of her….let me tell you about a Leo, who is painted as such by the woman in whom he utters his every story as a monument of his daily experiences. For a wife she was to him.

To achieve true happiness, sacrifices have to be made. And a sacrificed she made when she decided to let go of all her investments…never an unwise investment…nor an unwise sacrifice. Can a heart live without the blood to sustain it, or the body without food?...let me explain, sometimes to understand life, one has to step out and view it only as an onlooker separated from the nature of man and woman, separate from emotions, pain, and life. Life looks easy on the outside however, my character experienced sorrow beyond the femininity in birthing a child, grief beyond death, and pain beyond a wound. For to her a part of her heart was being ripped away at the decision she had to make. A sacrifice for happiness without division or guilt. She had to let go, for to her this man had refused to loosen the ring upon his finger, he was a faithful cheat. A woman she is, humane in every way, but this time she did to herself an act that was callous and heartless, for to no other man could her body embrace…to no other man could her heart feel the need to bleed to give love, for she loved him unwaveringly and willingly. She is a master of words, with the skills to root up an army of passion and lust, to gain love and reciprocate…but for her selflessness towards him and now her selfishness for happiness, she sacrifices that skill for a new relationship. One with the creator, God. It takes a long time to come to a moral decision about sin and sacrifices, but it is the great moment in her life when she decides that just as Jesus Christ died for the sin of the world, so sin must die in her, not curbed or suppressed or counteracted, but crucified.

She separated herself from a shared love…one hats divided, but love in its entire meaning…just to be whole with love that belongs to her only, where she is the priority in his life. She became one with God. And even though her heart is his temple, she only wishes to share this temple with him again. Not as lovers but as soul mates in Christ. But this is only a dream. To each his own.

STORY OF A WOMAN

Let me tell you a story of a life of a woman, a seductress, a Christian, a daughter, a lover and Me, all one. A life lived to the standards of all that is good and pure, and at the same time selfishly satisfies the body for her own happiness. A happiness that reaps sorrow and disappointments to others. She lives not for herself but also for the world. I am not talking about happiness of a moment or a point in time, but total tranquility that rewards with elation in success, fame, family, sex and above all LOVE. That which she so relentlessly seeks after, but only find through selfish and selfless acts of faith and determination, All in the name of finding love and total happiness. One which does not exist, not in this life at least, maybe in dreams and fantasies where I want to forever live. I have total control over my domain. But enough of me, this is a story of a woman who loves and seeks love. It surrounds her daily and showers her with magnitude of gifts and honors. This is a girl who speaks and it becomes gospel, who walks and leaves a path to be followed, who never takes advantage of ones strengths and weaknesses, instead she explores their capabilities and potential to benefit herself with a lack of respect or consideration of their emotions and feelings. She reminds me of myself. Her soul mirrors my image.

Back to the point of love. A world she creates and makes true by her own endeavors. She is loved but yearns to love another. A soul that is so pure that even love awaits her approval and acceptance. Her beauty so radiant that it casts down all foothold that stands against her. She is wanted and hunted that she needs not to search for her prince of perfection for princes awaits her embrace. But wait this is a story not of love rewarded but of love stolen and cherished. A girl who walks on a platform laden for her by lovers and admirers and yet she feathers herself with the unattainable, men who are untouchable by bonds of love for another. To think that she would be equip with the consideration and respect for both women alike, but challenges herself to acquire Love through sex. A borrowed love until he becomes hers to keep. Purity is only what the mind conceives, for she is an angel of her own charms manifested in the sinister all manhood. Why should she deprive herself of the possibility of receiving a life time of happiness at the expense of another? That significant other will move on to her truer happiness.

I seek to tell you how she fought with fate to grant her this myriad of bliss that she seeks for, in a man she’s come to adore and love in the true meaning of the word. One who’s body is a masterpiece, his mind a maize filled with knowledge, his soul so humble and meek, hands soft and prosperous, lips so promising that it makes her melt from each sensational contact and a heart that is only a small part for her. His heart belong to another. Yet he resuscitate her compassion. He seems so perfect, but is someone else’s perfection. I stand on a platform paved with morals and dedication, yet I feed on a lifetime of guilt so much as my character so do. A woman she’s called, for in her is created all emotions of the human character, she laughs, she cries, she hurts and she loves. The SHE God created from the HE. Woman, who inhibits all that a man has and all he has not. And he who lacks shall find the she to compensate. So as to be titled soul mates. To be continued…

KARMA IS A BITCH

Karma is very much existent
as sure as I am that of a woman.
My soul bids me to taste and enjoy
to take all and be captivated by its satisfaction
in a man whose heart holds another.
My femininity sings a song
that echoes as a charm,
that sends pleasure and companionship to our hearts.
I shall take him and the fruits of nature
and be filled by his presence in my life.

Yet with all knowledge known to man
my actions will only create an oppsite reaction
and sweetness in danger and mischief
reaps only pleasure and pain
It propels me to continue.
To the naked eyes of those who judge me
lies on flat surface promiscuity,
In my body lies a temple.
I open not the doors to that sanctuary
but a mere flesh that needs healing.

Karma persuades me to prostitute my innocence
for the mother of all things green in envy
she rotates around the face of the sun
to see him glow beauty on
and he too finds pleasure in mocking me
of my destiny that only he has sight of.
Mother and I share that in common.
But nature takes union with reality and warns me..
..HE belongs to another
Karma bids me to linger till my fate peruses me
much more than I'm being pursued by him.

THE WINE

I explained this after the poem. IT might be hard to understand.

He drank down the wine and they kept going.
He and She,
Not knowing whats to come in their way
He drank up the wine and she kept weeping.
The car broke down and he was sleeping.
Where would you go without ever knowing the way.
He kept drinking and she kept walking.
Love flew with time, and she was still by his side.
But hearts half filled with fear, now broken
and she left him, no longer there.
Sober now...
He found himself staring in the eyes of a stranger,
like those many other strangers,
a night walker in search of a kind drunk to fulfill her desires
of love and money and sex.
His soul mate had gone..
..when the wine had pierced its deepest.

EXPLANATION
Sometimes men can be so blind as to the treasure they have st their side and would only hope and think that everything is alright. But this man was blinded by the "wine" which alludes to the joy of being let loose and highly freed and favoured. But he did not realize that while he was enjoying life and thinking all is well "he drank up the wine" and lost the appreciation of his soulmate whose heart was broken. "She kept weeping". Slowly but surely on the road of relationships and its encounters being driven in a car that represents love, not knowing the way. The car eventually broke down, love had stopped, and as sure as time flies, love had flew away. Still caught up and half blinded drunk had not seen that all was gone and all this time she was by his side...weeping. A prostitute represented the affairs he had and the betrayal. A stranger had come between the two. He then realised his love had stopped and was gone. Life had stopped at the last drop of wine.

Surprising how men can be so blinded that they fail to appreciate and ador. They cheat, they lie and they abuse. But love will only corporate when they learn to appreciate. Dont take your mate for geanted beacause as time ticks she might be walking and the gap keep broadening.

WATCHERS

Onlookers only saw the beauty
that shone so radiant when she walked.
Heartbreakers could only feel her innoscence
that she brought each time she talked.

But the world could not discern how she
strolled on hot platter and spoke with a heart
that did not matter with things that decayed.
Because at nights she would weep her time away.
She closed out all eyes
to mend her heart.

I FOUND CHRIST

I dedicate this one to a new friend..Gavin who is helpin me on my way. I think he is the car that hit me in this dream. Hey dont get tired of my dreams...I did say they speak to me.

Walking through the middle of the night has always been a mystery
Not knowing where you're going.
But traveling with a mind set on solving destiny.
I remember one night out of many when I decided to walk in pitch black.
This time I had a purpose,
I ran like the wind in no direction,
I ran to become one with the night,
Closer to eternity, farther from bitter sweet bliss.
I had a purpose, Just needed a reason to continue.
I ran towards mutiny and found light in the night.
I found christ when I stopped at an intersection.
Confused by the loud calls of the night
But one voice spoke quietly..
.." I am the way, the truth and the light"
I found life, light in darkness.
I found christ, the end to my mystery.
I felt salvation knock me straight in the lightpost,
last thing I heard was a loud horn,
My journey was ended
And I was born again.

CHASING CAR

This is another one of my dreams...I wish most cars were like the one I Fabricated in my visions.

I'm driving a car
that slides on my dreams
and is a wish upon a star.
So polished I can see my face,
Eyes of a thousand children
Ears of a thousand cries.
Mouth of that romantic pilgrim
A face of an old stallion smiles.
Gas depressed as I slow down my life,
I steer myself in my own direction
while the front lamps of an image besets
before me the path of salvation.
The famished glow that paints before me the past,
a rear view glance...
...Turn left... Turn right
Reverse... you'll have a second chance.

I have a car
that drives in my dreams
and is a wish upon a star.

MY LAST WORDS

I sat down to write what was on my head
To write the last words of my life,
but couldnt express it the way I wanted
So I sat and wrote a poem instead.

The words all twisted and confused
It sends conflicting signals
while it hits on iron to make a sound that rhymes.
All logics and knowledge I refused
so that I can write whats in my time.
These words, that like water pitter-patter drops
from my mind and became my religion.
I'd pride myself to make my words shine
I'd bleed my scars to write the truth.
These words belonged to me
These words are mine to keep,
That in which I reaped.
I write my last chronicle,
and should it be an illusion I'm recieving
and not my true ending
I'm going to keep writing
and use love as an ending.
I write my last eulogy..
..crazy like my life and all my other lives:
love, hate, romance.
And if I write another one of my last poems
It will be my last chance
to use words like it used me
and I'll return the courtesy.

Words are my life,
my last poem may be my begining.

EYE OF THE STORM

We've all been through some stormy days...but guess what I? I welcome them so that after my cries and sorrow, there will be no more...only the sun light to make my dark nights clear.

It started to rain, I don't know why
The pitter pat of sorrows, the sky cries
Darkness absorbs me, It reveals to me
Clouds of darkness revealing my iniquity.

Pitch black nights arouses my sins
Thunder and lightning the rainy clouds bring
A striking voice warning me
Rumbling violently to set me free.

A state of tranquility now a nigh
Darkness fallen, my inner torment fades and die
Revealing s new beginning, a new joy seen
Darkness consoled me, lighted my inner being.

JANICE

lol...A good friend of mine wrote this poem to me in my earlier years...I love her for her honesty..."my ally, never to be my foe"...They say wounds from a friend is far better than kisses from the enemy...Thanks Lori

Did she feel the connection as she stared into his eyes?
I wonder if she knew it was lust, love in disguise?
Although they passionately gazed
and her heart skipped a beat,
Unrequited love culminating to her heart's defeat.

Her love for him will never end
To the ends of the earth his heart she will defend.
I pity the fool who gets entwined in his web of deciet.
He tricked her to give her all
So she can recieve a temporary high
her sexual treat.

They dwelled, they explored, he conquered
Another sexual conquest, another moral he lowered.
I share your pain my naive friend
Just know my love for you
will never end.

WOUNDS

This one is another dream. I grew up hearing that dreams tell a story...a story of your fears...of your desires...of love. So i wake some morning and write what I saw. They tell a story I believe...It says alot about my dreams.

I remember walking a narrow road
A fine line dividing reality from dreams
Dividing life from death, But I must
walk the narrow path to reach the gates
that will find love forever.
While traveling that road I searched for paths
that could lead me to the gates fast.
The sun shone like there was no tomorrow,
like there was no end.
But I continued...
quenched my thirst with the salt and sweat of life
Fed myself on rhetorical love
Enough to carry me through.
Yet the fire of desires raging
only showed me the unreachable.
I grabbed to gain, but got nothing
I wounded myself from the anticipation.
I finally reached the gates
I finally found love...
BUT I WAS TOO WEAK TO HOLD ON.

GOOSE BUMPS

It touches me and raises my skin,
It blows around me...I'm elevating.
It hugs me, warms me with ice.
It's goosebumps in disguise.

The sensation, hair begins to rise.
Its coolness, hands of spies.
Touch me...Feel me...Warmth me...
He's goosebumps in disguise.

DAWN ANNA

This one I wrote after a good friend lost her first child. To Anna my dear friend, may your children be a blessing in this world just as you were a blessing in my life.

Sometimes life breaks your heart
But it never broke her spirit.
She lost the sight of life,
she lost the sight of her 'sun'.
Anna was deprived of the nine months of sunlight
she once found joy in.
Now is impregnated by a life filled with the burden.
She is tied off, from the nature of living
as though the mother of this earth would.
Anna lies there on her death bed,
But would she regain her strength?
Will she ever have the dead son-light
shine his rays upon her once again?

Anna grew with nature, but she never stayed green
She grew with only her reflection
a dazed mirror of her grandchildren...
The ones she would never have.

NEVER MET

Starcrossed lovers who've never met
Crowded daisies thats never been wet
A love that sparkles but never ignites
A life together, vision without sight.

The stars hang on just by a string,
A dream built on ruin
When eyes of two becomes four
Then shall this dream become more.

SHHHhhhhhh......

I spent a week in silence just to better understand
the sound of a whisper,
of the heart beat,
Of silence...

....a deafening sound it was.

You asked me whats wrong
You asked me whats going on,
Shhhh, listen for the answer
Shhhh, listen to the expressions on my face
They speak louder than words.
They have a power to portray my inner being.
SHHHHH
Quietly stare yourself in the mirror
and you'll get the answers.
Be defiant...
Shhhh, be quiet.
The answers stare you in the face.

A LIVING HOLOCAUST

White, black, yellow, all the same in different color,
All alike in search of revolting freedom that only kills
The more they strife.
Untold counts of lost loved ones to a treacherous revolt…
Living bias against uniqueness due to different Lords and different Hue.
No compassion for the same alike in faces, structure and souls.
They kill….a living holocaust.
They kill leaving hearts darkened as the pigment of their skin…
As their souls rise in dense fog and joins the air of bliss,
Ecstasy in death deemed their only freedom.
Burned hearts, Burned body, no hope…a living holocaust.

Screams of torture, Screams of fear.
Children left to wander the earth as wild animals.
Hiding in bAnana trees, seeking reFuge fRom lIfeless neCessities
So as not to be seen by the light one, his skin as bright as the sun,
The one whom they think have all authority to burn their villages
Burn their homes, burn their families and leaves only smoke of hope.
They fear, so they run to a land of milk and honey, a land not promised to them.
imprisoned in Canaan, forced to abide,
Forced to live as the animals they are
Land of milk and honey my ass.

Mount the rivers of hopes you live on,
Rise above this living holocaust.
Make a world that demands your best and not the white mans test.
Declare by the color of your skin hard work and labour filled.
SuRvival under the ‘Sun’ of the white man’s world
And cast down shame in this America….
…a land of filth and money.
Prejudiced demons they are….a living holocaust.

LORD OF THE PIANO

I've watched him play,
Hands of emerald gently strikes
the keys of ivory and black.
With such dedication he puts melody in noise.
Skirts upturned to give him gratitude for his skill
as eyes, ears and hearts open to his will.
TODOO TADAH TODOO
"He is the lord of music"
"He is the lord of the keys"
He composes the air to a long pause
that sends harmony and lust to their seats,
All melt to his rythm
All insignificant notes on his masterpiece. 

I've watched him play
with such dynasty.
Bold hands with the power to make
lovers as enmity.
Then he explodes his ending with brilliant silence.
The lord of the ear have just sent me into madness.
"He is the lord of music.
It his to maneuver"
"He is the lord of the keys"
He lashes out such tenderness
on each precise touch,
And emotes such empathy
which delivers unwanted love.

I've watched him play,
A sight of beauty
I was fawned,
by such intercourse between his music and him,
I praise him for his talent,
He is magnificent
"The lord of the piano has captured my intellect"
He played my life on ivory and black
Disguised my pain in a musicians sack.
I'm now his apprentice
And I was his final piece.

DEATH WEDDING

I wrote this after one of a close friend Died. Death, though its an end to someones life..dont be fooled because its an enlightenment in another life. More specifically me.

Irrespective of the Whole view on the cycle of life, my life is embedded in the thought of the after life or should I say...My life is a preparation for death. Death does not scare me, I wait for him and I'm Prepared. He comes like a poisonous apple in disguise, Ready to feast and savor its delight..he seeps through the veins and take you by surprise. My whole philosophy of death is based upon my experiences. I often dream of my wedding (a disguise of my funeral). The dress, traditionally white but dreamed black..that lovely black dress I'm being wed in; an external sleep. And the people, that fascinates me the most in my dreams. The great numbers in which people turn out to see me wed; my give-away father who cries because he is loosing me to fear, he gives me away to death, and my friends who misses me because I'm no longer there.

But through out my dream I was fawned by the groom, tall dark and handsome but without a face. He is my night in shining armor, I was ready to marry death. Death was his name..and as much as it scared others, it gave me thrill. He was my escape from reality...from life..a world of misery, responsibilities, High expectations and pain. With open arms he received me, with a mournful palm dad clenched on to me...refusing to let me go. But i wanted to go. I was now and forever will be death's most prized possession..wanted by him and loved by life. I lay on the bed of roses all sewn together into a wreath..rotten with fragrance. The casket was closed and death and I forever lived. There was no more pain, no more rush....just peace and tranquility that lead me insane. I WANT LIFE.

Yes, call me Psycho? There is a fine line between being a psychopath and a realist. I'm real, Death is real. Death is that which assures me that there is life. I YEARN FOR LIFE.

BROKEN ILLUSION

Hahaha hahahhaha...I can but only laugh at the turn of the wheels
"What goes around comes right back around"
I sneer at such philosophies as each word paints my life.
No longer can I bash and smirk at unexpectedness,
No longer can I underestimate life.
The vivid reflection that mirrors in my soul.
I look me in the eye,
My own reflection through an ally.
A woman, a friend, now trod that which I've buried,
Taken union of emotions with that which I've once loved.
I scold the manifestations that life presents to me.
Now my image...once my friend, never to be my foe
Retells my story....a story that yields no love,
But that which woos the mind,
Plays the heart,
And offers a treat to bliss.
A bliss that only compensates for each participant,
Compensate for what he lost,
Compensate for what she did not receive
Joined together unholy to give strained love.
I love this likeness , but I weep for her hallucinations. 

Its only a reflection,
Only my mind can conceive

Broken dreams is all it reaps.
Shattered love, shattered hearts.
Hhahaha


By: Janice Hall 

Copyright law 352154
No stealing

MY STORY

I am ready to tell my story...let ink spare my life...let words drain me of this inescapable sadness...and let my soul pour on paper, so that truth may be told. Truth be told...life toys with the very presence of my existence...One man, One heart, living through but my life and many...have found a way to repel against that which I hide, one man was able to replenish and destroy simultaneously the barriers of a woman's secret...of my secret. He places chaos at the fore front of my heart...and created unrequited love. Once shared but now only an individual emotion. That if its not given nor received may send me into madness...that which I have already begun. His words stains my memory, it pierces deep to the stone cold heart...and he makes it burn, inferno. How can a single man out of many alike, many different, many better...have such an effect on me, that it makes me yearn for him, yearn for his love that had more than once manhandled my very wifely-hood. Gave me no attention...much more than my own reflection have. Yet he loved me by giving me and showing me his true self...that which few have received...that which I was so elated to have shared. But his very existence in my life causes me pain...lonesomeness and ignored. A good man with bad habits...habits that I took as my job to fix... I tried to fix him...and loosed something that I cant replace. I plague him as the miracle in my life...Hopeful thinking that leads to an empty road. GOD BLESS THAT ONE MAN'S SOUL.

My story ends where the words on this very paper stops. And at that point. .so does my collection of emotions spent...but not wasted...And at that point I will be happy again...no more fifteen minutes of tears.

A MAN'S WORLD

Do you believe a man can love a woman and constantly betray her? Betray her in the mind, in the very poetry of his soul? Men do it all the time, not physically.

Do you know how men can love you, feed you that love deliberately to poison your body and mind simply to destroy you? And out of passionate love, chooses not to love you anymore? And at the same time dizzy you with an idiots ecstasy? Impossible?

I can make men feel the painful beauty of a child, the animal horniness of the adolescent male, the yearning suicidal moodiness of the young female. And then show you how time turns man and woman around full circle, exchanged in body and soul.

How about TRUE LOVE? Sexual fidelity? Does it work, Is it love? Is it human, that perverse passion to be with only one person? And if it doesn't work, do you get a bonus for trying?

Life is but a comical business, and there is nothing funnier than love traveling through time. But a true poet can make her audience laugh and cry at the same time.

Death it another story. I will not make a joke about death. I am always alert for death. He doesn't fool me. I spot him right away. He loves to come disguised as TRUE LOVE; a comical wart that suddenly grows and grows. He takes his victim by surprise, but not me. I'm waiting for him.

Parallel to death, love is tiresome, childish business, though men believe more in love than death. Women are another story. We are a powerful secret. The only man who scare me is the one who loves me for myself alone. He cant be allowed to live, especially if he's faithful and never lies and always puts me ahead of everything and everyone. I'll open to him...I'll love him. I will be his.