The days are getting cooler
as summer starts to fade
Classes are beginning
and Jack-O-Lanterns made
The Autumn winds are whistling
a most familiar tune
They say they’re mailing ballots out
and we will get them soon
They say Trump lost his luster
his grifts have all grown stale
Every venture in his life
has been an epic fail
And now we’re in a pickle
in a war with no end nigh
Led there by a loser
who knows not the what or why
But people are resisting
refusing to back down
Protesting in cities
and in every little town
Because November’s coming
and judgment, many say
the Grand Old Party’s reckoning
will be Election Day
leaves are changing
falling delicately to ground
kids play hide and seek
Standing alone in a ditch last day of summer
canoe rests on my shoulders the ocean the earth
Sky nature it all before me
all one single body wriggling
writhing above the other things
the diction of the wind
shapeless lumpy
crued field durt of mud
In my dreams, I walk a path,
Of sod and soil, rain's aftermath.
Tortured mask I've left behind, pieces of a former life.
My eyes are wide in tempoed stride,
Each step forward in all its grace,
Into the world I walk alone,
My heart beats silently.
Maybe heaven will smile today,
Through it all I keep my truth with liberty and poise.
I make no promise or fake disguise.
I am a soul in need of love.
A place that I call mine.
To walk among the crowds of man,
Without prejudice and pain.
In these fields of golden sun,
With history at my back,
Let shadows fall to crowded streets,
As I step across the track.
The mask that binds me now is shed,
With nothing but the glorious sky above.
For as I find my resting place,
Among the swaying blades of grass,
My tortured soul comes to rest in peace,
Heart and soul join in the music of the waves.
Still stands the night,
an immovable mountain.
A light snowfall of moonlight
on its exposed terrain.
An isolated star shimmers and shakes
its avalanche of brilliance,
outshining myriads of lesser snowflakes
that adorn the night’s somnolence.
In the lee of this mountain,
amongst taupe shadows deep,
three riders their clutches tauten
halting their steely steeds, while other men sleep.
Their chill- wizened faces
look up to the sky
whilst blind night embraces
the three Magi.
Through centuries they’ve travelled
like astronauts through space
though men still hadn’t unravelled
the first mystery that had taken place
on the outskirts of this beleaguered city.
They gaze at the star questioning:
was man ready for the immensity
of the Second Coming?
The frosty light of the star
then started to melt and wane.
It was too soon for the avatar,
the world was still profane.
They re- revved their machines
and set off into orbit exquisite.
Astronomers observing the dying sheen
said t’was a star of hope that surely would revisit.
The Depot
The morning sun begins to peek,
my shaking knees are feeling weak.
With heavy baggage in my hand,
it takes my strength to simply stand.
I am so numb the silence roars,
I have survived my endless wars.
Gazing at the train platform
remnants of the passing storm.
The grass glistens in the breaking sun
oblivious to the battle won.
Crowds disperse, the platform clears,
the whistle echoes in my ears.
To be alone at last, I breathe,
I'm taking in the autumn breeze.
My first steps forward, timid ones,
the light of day finally comes.
For I'm unsure what lies ahead,
will they love me now, wish me dead.
It matters none from here on in,
I fought the war, I fought the sin.
My body's weak but I am home,
my weary soul will cease to roam.
Debra
Coming Home
Sitting alone on the moving train, with heavy thoughts upon my brain.
The cabin lights begin to dim, I shed the ghost, I am not him.
My mind goes dark while the car stays lit, because I know the truth of it.
And as the driving rhythm rolls, I climb out of the ten-mile holes.
I claim my space and leave behind, the quiet wreckage of the mind.
I sift the ashes and the bone, for truths that I call my home.
Tonight I'll sleep in my own bed, without demons dancing in my head.
For tonight I swear the demon's lair, is no longer filled with Satan's air.
The remnants of the days gone by take yield to bluer skies,
and from the wreckage of the mind, the woman starts to rise.
I make no promise, I make no claim, the devil dwells in his domain.
To turn around and look for blue, where reddened skies are breaking through.
I know my heart, the battle's won, the heavy, bleeding work is done.
I leave behind the life I knew, and stand my ground, for I am true.
O Lord my God, the war is through, there's nothing left for me to do.
I wish the world could finally see, the truth that You have known in me.
Tibi fideliter,
Debra
IN A DIFFERENT WORLD COMING: ready
(Apropos Of Breaking News Breaking)
You say,
We are too old
And have no idea
Of what’s going on:-
Well, we
Said that too;
Please give us a call
And let us talk awhile:-
Where
Are you now…?
Remember
your beginnings…?
Where are you going now…?
We’re still
Following NI’s bloody footprints;
Watered in divine wisdom and guidance:
Aware of AI’s infectious, chaining vibes:-
Be in today’s awareness.
Future wars will not
Be dropping bombs:
Just biological infections:-
The worldwide Power Oppressors,
Will control both the infection,
As well as the vaccine:
Cumulating
Ongoing
Victories
Introduced
Decades ago.
N.B. Read it again
And think about it:
Profound breaking
Bombing news coming.
It’s not magic, though absolutely true
one image torn, two visions accrue
not a triptych, but someone new
a third party twists the view
deforming what he knew
came out of the blue
but why, but who?
a dear John
Billet
doux
Coming to Jamaica
That land of magnetic Aura
Gold and green embedded in my being
Energy shifts into a butterfly dream.
I hear you calling my name.
I am home once again.
Back to where I belong
Negril boardwalk on the white sand.
From the mountains to the sea
Its deeper presence dwells within me
And flows into an infinite stream
To the warmth and radiance of my being.
Coming to Jamaica
The land of nature and nostalgia
Where the rhythm of music hums
And scatters the rhyme like African drums.
Columbus saw it on Discovery Bay
And brought into mind a beautiful display
Of the indomitable emancipation
That lives free in every Jamaican
If your living expenses and
Utilities are steady climbing
And the wages are not
Even if you're on a fix income
It's a recipe for disaster
The day, night feels shy;
every eye stares
with love, hope,
the history in the sky.
It's coming after decades,
beholding its promise
to meet the Earth, the people,
those who waved at it.
It might not see the same eyes.
The air will be different,
the blossomed flowers it will see;
everything has changed since the last bye.
Once in an entire lifetime,
witnessing its shine,
feeling the universe,
the magic that will arrive.
Here it comes.
The screams are none,
'cause the inner voice is louder.
The flashing in the sky,
the famous celebrity for the night.
Some wishes, some cries;
serenity lies in the sky.
A few seconds were enough.
Life was worth it.
Every heart was lit.
God's favorites had the second chance
to feel the marvel again.
They ponder the journey between two points.
They look behind,
the road that was traveled.
Now I can die peacefully.
Halley's Comet winked at me.
Despise not the small beginning,
For at God’s appointed time,
Small beginnings grow to great -
Go where He calls, bring change, don’t hesitate!
Let creativity, talent flow,
Innovation where He will show.
For He’s the breaker, strong and sure,
Moves the immovable, performs the miraculous.
Let God’s favor shine on your life,
Revival winds sweep through the strife.
In homes and cities, His Spirit renew,
Lord, we are coming back to You.
We align with Your covenant true,
Faithful forever, our hearts pursue.
coming down
sunless buckets
rainbow lists
MORE BETTER BLUES COMING
I
Contrary to the thinking of some,
The blues is not wallowing in depression;
Rather, it's the tribulations of overcoming it
With divine wisdom, guidance, and determination:-
Thus, there's got to be coming
A much more better blues
Than what is streaming
In our society today:-
Once considered an admirable country,
Our society today is slowly becoming
That ghostly Humpty Dumpty model
Of the so-called Free World:-
II
Jazzing with the keloid spirit
Of my hope-fueling Ancestors,
I'm so determined to survive
The present muddy waters:-
Indeed, today there are many strong spirits,
Striking–like hammers–oppressive depression;
Many fuel-spirited minds…bodies…and souls…
Sowing reaping seeds of more better blues:-
More better blues for a more better people,
Overcoming the sinister Oppressive Syndrome;
Modified beings ensuring that liberty and equanimity
Will therefore now and forever be, in life as well as in death:-
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