The impact of a racist riot on a community is often exacerbated by recidivism—not just in terms of individual re-offending, but in the repetition of systemic violence and the cycle of trauma it inflicts on the masses. When these events occur, they are rarely isolated incidents; they are often the result of recurring patterns of unchecked prejudice and failed intervention.
For the public, this cycle creates a sense of perpetual instability. When the same ideologies and actors resurface to incite violence, it undermines social cohesion and signals that previous lessons were not learned. Breaking this cycle of recidivism requires more than just short-term consequences; it demands a collective commitment to addressing the root causes of racial animosity to ensure these destructive patterns do not repeat.
What a hymn,
you leave me,
as warmth
becomes the chills,
You leave me,
All of this was to die,
standardized,
a yellow flame
searing red
becomes blue.
Cold-ish ash,
fingers turn brittle,
crumbling to
blood- soaked
smokey cash.
Our fingers
corrupted
through
the
exchange of
history,
paper,
coins,
built on violence.
I fought
dragons
for treasures,
I did my best
to
tip toe
to the other side
of rainbows,
truth is,
the journey
is wealth
folded Cards,
scattered dice,
fingers pointed...
Alas,
the beauty of
grace,
the divine thoughts of
silk and lace,
bleeden
if inter-weavened,
bloody grips
who seeks the price....
Family,
scolded,
how the cold
inflicts sores
through
entirety
of winter.
Morocco inflicts heartbreak on Netherlands
Oranje sent home packing after knockout
Round of 32 drama didn’t disappoint
Overcome by emotion — both sides
Cody Gakpo scores opening goal pointing to heaven
Chaotic 3-2 penalty shootout leaves Saibari shirtless
Onto the round of 16 showdown with Canada
Joy
takes on
a dire effect
Its absence
filled
with sorrow
Its loss
inflicts
a greater harm
Than grief
can buy
or borrow
Joy
when brief
endows with fear
A pain
to mark
its passing
To dread
the coming
of the night
With
sadness mourned
— and lasting
(The New Room: October, 2025)
I stare at the moonlight of the river,
Even it inflicts the suffering, I shiver.
A broken image, devoid of all human desire,
As if a vampire drained him and even wants higher.
Condemned to be powerless for rest of his life,
Every rescue path leads him to rope, gun or even knife.
I’m terrified of living like a fragile, fruitless tree,
Whoever loves me, wants me to not be free.
You know it’s not love, it’s selfishness and hate,
Forcing someone to live and accept his grim fate.
Let us defeat this restless and eager vampire,
By the sun of freedom, and his spreading fire.
I want to breathe as long as I’m a determined being,
Not a wretched hostage, locked up to bed, voiceless weeping.
I just cannot believe that
You have brought Me to this place
After all the wounds, then there's this crown
Look at the Blood upon My face
Why would one see Calvary
And suffer all this pain?
I'll tell you why
His name is God
And He's My Father just the same
My spirit lives within You, Son
And all the wounds that man inflicts
Life brought to the young
And death to the ruthless
With one swift blow it can't be fixed
My purple heart is crimson red
For the mistakes that man has made
Listen to Him now, my Son
Teach them from sin please turn away
There is something about matter
that keeps me spellbound,
enamored to its most exquisite blooms,
oceans, forests and mountain streams.
It holds who I am, gives me shape
and form, a home, a place in which
this awareness within me
can live out a life and from which
I have grown.
I am in awe of its compositions,
in love with its colors, perfumes
and sounds, the touch of warm skin
and the sweet taste of freshly
harvested fruit. All is matter.
It is a source of pleasure and joy
and yet inflicts equal measure
of suffering through loss and pain.
But what is matter
when scaled down
to its essence….mere particles
that can be smashed apart
to decay into ghostly spirals.
Is this all I am, a quantum
equation at my core. Or is it
a Creator's gift, the stuff
born out of the act
of a conscious mind, eternal
in some mysterious way.
And so it is with me,
beside the beloved river taking in
the last light of the day.
Full of hope and doubt
I see this lovely world slowly
slipping away and wonder
whether if this is all there is
and nothing more
or will I awake from this dream
as I may have done so many
lifetimes before.
Where remains narrow thought, when two hearts entwine,
dissolving completely in each other’s eyes,
cosmic fire birthing rapture as souls align,
with divine magnetism causing bliss to rise,
renewing its pulse as love for love does pine,
presence delighting in each offered surprise?
Seraphic music soft and slow, hearts aglow,
makes eye single, as love continues to grow.
Where remains our will, when we choose to be still,
relying solely on the mind of our heart,
sipping divine nectar of gods to our fill,
breath by breath thus feeling, bliss ignition start,
union of polarities, a sublime thrill,
wherein compassion deems no soul stands apart?
Continual rapture of soundless thunder,
is beheld by presence in childlike wonder.
No thoughts, no desires, love yet inflicts a burn,
transmuting each cell of form as living light
and as nodes within churn, for God’s touch we yearn,
becoming the beacon that banishes night,
paving the way for soul’s heavenward return,
growing in wisdom and garnering clear sight.
Joy, empathy, compassion; colours of love,
magnetically draw in grace from above.
I keep my spoon hidden in a room where I sleep,
I’m a monster in hiding, a wolf among sheep.
The needle she calls me at all hours of the night,
to come do her biding. See It’s her I can’t fight.
She tells me she’s sorry for the pain she inflicts,
her kiss of addiction is what’s keeping me sick.
A fist full of medicine, a heart full of pain, spoon full of fantasy I shove in my veins.
Lost hope of my family, they see I’m a slave,
a soul that’s been traded for a life they can’t save.
A painful reminder these scars on my arms,
The map to my prison that’s done so much harm.
Tied off and tied up, searching for bliss,
a second reminder like the pain of a miss.
Quiet desperation the loss of my dreams,
The fact only a junkie could know what I mean.
In my mind sometimes I go back to my room,
Where I traded my life for what’s in the spoon
They're pagans on ice with wood sticks
And maximum pain each inflicts
But Saint Patrick knows
God prefers trios
Like three-leaf shamrocks and hat tricks
In a place where love's tender glow once shone,
A girl with a broken heart stands alone.
She wonders why this guy inflicts such pain,
Leaving her bewildered, her tears like rain.
Her heart, once whole, now fragmented and torn,
She questions why she's left so forlorn.
The puzzle of his actions she can't grasp,
Yearning for answers, but they elude her grasp.
She gazes at the stars with tearful eyes,
Seeking solace in the moonlit skies.
Unable to fathom his callous ways,
Her shattered heart a testament, it displays.
Yet within her, a flicker of strength remains,
A resilience to heal from love's cruel stains.
For deep within her tender soul, she'll find,
The power to mend, leave the pain behind.
Though she cannot fathom why he caused distress,
In time, she'll find the courage to progress.
A broken heart, though painful, can still mend,
And love's true beauty, once more, she'll comprehend.
In shadows she dwells, a girl forlorn,
Her heart shattered, tattered and torn.
She wonders why he inflicts such pain,
Leaving her heartache to forever remain.
Like riddles unsolved, his actions unclear,
She yearns for solace, a love sincere.
Why does he hurt her, time and again?
A question that echoes, deep within.
She dances in darkness, lost and confused,
His words a weapon, her heart abused.
She longs for answers, a glimpse of truth,
Yearning for love's healing, a resolute.
But in her despair, she'll find her way,
Strength will emerge from this disarray.
She'll gather her pieces, rise from the fall,
A phoenix reborn, she'll conquer it all.
For broken hearts mend, though scars may remain,
Her spirit unyielding, she'll find joy again.
In time, she'll fathom, it wasn't her worth,
But his own demons that caused this dearth.
So let her heal, let her soul mend,
For she'll rise above, love's wounds transcend.
No longer a victim, she'll learn to forgive,
And find a love that helps her truly live.
Always do your best; that is right
such brings fulfillment to the heart
granting you God's joyous delight.
Always trust the great Lord; so true
such verily gladdens the soul
smiting feelings, gloomy and blue.
Always practice kindness; oh, sure
such builds up good and firm friendship
creating fellowship pleasure.
Always stay teachable; yes, check
such smites folly and deceit's pest
shielding from ignorance-caused wreck.
Always reign against hate; seek peace
such rancor inflicts guilty pain
exposing well-being’s disease.
Always seek to rejoice*; be nice
such forgiveness-bliss melts despair
along reconciliation price.
Always be a blessing; so pray
such indeed shows your genuine love
illumined by Christ's gracious ray.
*Philippians 4:4 - Rejoice in the Lord alway: and again I say, Rejoice.
August 7, 2023
3rd place, "Letter to My Children or to my Unborn" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Anoucheka Gangabissoon; judged on 10/5/2023
In shadows dark, where evil dwells,
A tale unfolds, of twisted spells.
A figure roams, with eyes so cold,
A narcissist psychopath, stories untold.
His charm deceives, a polished guise,
A predator lurking, behind those eyes.
With silver tongue, she weaves his web.
To feed upon the souls unaware.
A master manipulator, she plays her game,
Toying with hearts, igniting flame's.
She craves admiration, her ego supreme,
A thirst for power, a narcissist's dream.
She preys on innocence, with no remorse,
Leaving scars behind, an eternal force.
Emotions shallow, devoid of empathy,
Her heart a void, the hole unfilled.
She weaves a web, of deceit and lies,
Drawing victims close, with cunning guise.
Her cruelty hidden, beneath a mask,
A wolf in sheep's clothing, an arduous task.
But the facade shall crumble, in time's cruel grip,
Exposing the truth, as darkness grips.
For a narcissist psychopath, cannot hide,
The scars she inflicts, the tears we cry.
So beware the one, with an empty gaze,
A narcissist psychopath, lost in a maze.
Guard your heart, protect your soul,
From the depths of such darkness, one can't tell.
The dilapidated, gutted apartment buildings loom like grotesque gravestones, jutting from the desolate cityscape. Chaos rains from the heavens, disturbing the dead and terrifying the living, taking refuge in bombed-out basements and shelters dug into refuse piles. Many have fled their homes, forced to abandon their city and their country, seeking refuge in foreign lands. War is hell; there is no politically correct way to describe or justify the atrocities it inflicts upon people or the complete devastation it brings. Humanity has an ugly side, a deep-rooted predilection for war: it's in our nature. We can try to hide or run away, but there is no safe place where war cannot find us, for it follows us wherever we go, like a shadow.
the shadow of war
overwhelms the light of hope...
blinded by a tear
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