before the waves could reach me
i sensed the storm in advance
but i chose to live in delusion
that i'll be just fine
i had faith in myself
and then i saw the sunset
i prophesied that ill be doomed
i win't be studying what i wish
no matter the efforts i made
they'll go in vain and i'll reel at night
i was never wrong
i read scripts to live with the pain
A SONNET FOR THE DREAMING KING
(APROPOS OF MLK DAY, CIRCA TODAY)
On a cold balcony, in night’s darkness,
Stood a man known as the Dreaming King:
His weary body a stranger to rest and doubt,
He resolved to navigate, ‘til peace would rein.
Suddenly, a cracking sound pierced the air;
Though not an ear, the bullet found its fleshly feast:-
The alarmed world became filled with gross despair—
Death had summoned the God-sent prophesied priest:-
The king had been crucified, but the dream had not:
Faith is so much stronger than debilitating hate and bigotry;
And there is nothing that can discourage the faithful lot:-
Know that with amazing grace, we will become free
Long live King’s spirit! Though he has passed,
We shall overcome, and shall be free at last:-
Melodic phrases melting from mouth
Onyx deeds prophesied with pearls
Song like psalms with messages shout
A great prophet to enlighten the world
Indigo sky to be revealed to the blind
Christ to come and save man kind
JUXTAPOSING LOVE AND HATE
It is so easy to hate not being loved;
And so difficult to love, being hated:-
What a strange relationship it is,
When love and hate are parallel:-
Love—unlike hate—is eternal,
And can never be transformed;
For love, can only be itself:-
Hate, on the other hand, can boast
Many manifestations of itself;
Demanding and expressing evil,
In various deceptive ways—lovingly—
Seeking to destroy all that is good:-
Manifested—the goodness of love—is God;
And is impervious to the will of the evil of hate;
Love essence surpasses all not of its making:-
Thus, in due seasons, the injustice of hate,
Will fade into the supreme love of justice;
And the inequality of old hate shall melt
And painfully flow into love’s solid equity:-
Indeed, as prophesied, it’s impossible
To love God, whom you have never seen,
And yet, hate any one of His created beings:-
Hey, don’t just hate how today’s humankind
Has failed to master living in the oneness of love?
In Brussels, I sat among doubters.
You spoke—calm, fierce, certain.
They mocked.
I listened.
Your words fell like thunder in a silent hall.
“Workers of the world, unite!”
They laughed.
You prophesied.
Now it is 2025.
And your shadow walks again.
Machines rule the hands of men.
Corporations sit where kings once sat.
You said,
“The production of too many useful things
creates too many useless people.”
Today I see them—
wandering, forgotten,
slaves to invisible masters.
You warned,
“History repeats itself—
first as tragedy,
then as farce.”
Look now—
Gaza burns,
Europe trembles.
The farce wears the mask of progress.
Your words were not theory,
they were scripture for the waking poor.
But the poor still dream.
The chains remain—
polished, digital, unseen.
I walk to your grave in Highgate,
where the wind still whispers revolt.
Your prophecy breathes in the dust.
Your ghost still teaches in silence.
Karl Marx—
the world you warned is here.
And I, your disciple,
kneel among your ashes,
still believing,
still mourning,
still waiting for the workers to wake.
Seems I grew up into someone like him,
All 'cause I let my heart follow every whim.
From very young I knew my future not grim,
For he is an ancient flame that'll never dim.
Our spark will guide me through the dark,
Familiarity and warmth from a past life arc.
From very young I knew to swing at a park
To honor Divine love in Krishna-Radhe's Arc.
Seems I grew up into someone just like you,
So finally someone like me will finally do.
Hopefully we can always make it through,
Even when we experience karma overdue.
Our spark of love is so warm and soothing,
All I feel is the peace when we are snuggling.
I want this love of ours to be so everlasting.
I know you're the one I prophesied in writing.
Her eyes were not made
To speak ambiguously
They linger from here hence
Like raspberry and lavender
On my phrenic palate
My head was not made
To be prepared for this moment
The songster prophesied
That I will never be with her
But I'm agnostic
Lamentations alone cannot stop
the bleeding of the land at the ankles,
nor stop the tears of Deluge
Grief matters little in a prophesied
pogrom, for a general death is
not reckoned with evil —
And prophecies shall remain with rain
forty days and forty nights;
And the empty trenches of Desert
shall be filled, her sands mired
upon the gluey spittle of the rains;
Even oases shall puke their water
upon broken rocks —Desert treasures.
When the sun lies in witness to this
history, with ancestral brown drums
saluting yonder,
lamentations shall be futile.
Well Daniel had the lions den
And David had his sling
Daniel prayed and prophesied
And David became a king
God cares for us all
No matter what we do
If we only love him
He Will love us too
Mary had a heart for God
Ruth had loyalty
Mary became Jesus mom
Ruth became redeemed
Yess God cares for us all
No matter what we do
If we will only love him
He Will love us too
Be a hero just like Daniel
Be brave like king David
Use lions for your pillows
Sling a stone at that giant's head
Carry the light like Mary
Lay down hum-ba-lee
At the feet of the one
who our soul redeemed
Judge Deborah led the army
Hilda gave degrees
Philip's daughters prophecied
And maidens will dream dreams
So many heros in the Word
To inspire me
The greatest hero of them all
Died on Calvary
Be a hero like Deborah
Don't sit there silently
After Jesus gave his life
Our lives to redeem
The debt we owed for our sin
Has been paid in blood
Now God sees us equally
And equally He loves
Yess God loves ...
So be a hero..
Oh yess God loves
God ...is.... love
The woman was a prophet,
though many forgot it.
She read the fates for others,
she helped many lovers.
Never once did she look into her own soul,
she never tried to find what would make her whole.
But one day, she wished on a star—
that she could find a love that would go far.
A man with a long beard prophesied his fate,
said he would meet someone great,
who orbits the same star
and would understand him—till they fell apart.
His life was a crowded place—
full of strangers who had promised to stay.
The man forgot his roots, forgot where he came from.
His fate, too, was read by another—who failed.
It is prophesied that
“Wisdom dwells
In contemplation;
There we must seek her...”
After contemplating a lesson I heard,
I now realize that there is something
That may be called Churchtianiry, and
There is what is known as Christianity:-
Now the first has its focus on what’s called
DINO;
While the other has its focus on what is known as
SHBISTO:-
Acoustically Speaking:
Disciple
In
Name
Only…
&
Serving
Him
Being
In
Service
To
Others…
The DINO’s emphasis is on those who are;
The SHBISTO emphasis is on whose they are:-
Contemplatively:
Be not who you and others think you ought to be;
Rather, be who and whose you know you are:
We are here to love as He loved us as His friends;
We are not here to be in love with only that name
We think we are:
Following the crucifixion and the resurrection, the 12
Had to become whose they were:-
anxiety wrapped around my neck
and hands struggling to free myself
lying on my bed close to the edge
i was struggling to keep my breathe
in the velvet sheets,
where cries turned into moans
and with a single kiss,
i was brought back from the hell
swing of a pendulum speaks to me
in its back and forth motion
it prophesied to be prepared
storm will make landfall again
It is prophesied that
“Wisdom dwells
In contemplation;
There we must seek her...”
After contemplating a lesson I heard,
I now realize that there is something
That may be called Churchtianiry, and
There is what is known as Christianity:-
Now the first has its focus on what’s called
DINO;
While the other has its focus on what is known as
SHBISTO:-
Acoustically Speaking:
Disciple
In
Name
Only…
Serving
Him
Being
In
Service
To
Others…
The DINO’s emphasis is on those who are;
The SHBISTO emphasis is on whose they are:-
Contemplatively:
Be not who you and others think you ought to be;
Rather, be who and whose you know you are:
We are here to love as He loved us as His friends;
We are not here to be in love with only that name
We think we are:
Following the crucifixion and the resurrection, the 12
Had to become whose:-
The question hung, a silent weight,
"Is God a truth, or sealed by fate?"
A whispered doubt, a searching gaze,
Lost in life's intricate maze.
Then came a shift, a jarring sound,
As unseen forces spun around.
An election's tide, a nation's sway,
And words that echoed, day by day.
A voice arose, with fervent claim,
Foretelling outcomes, like a burning flame.
Events unfolded, stark and clear,
Dispelling shadows, calming fear.
The prophesied, it came to pass,
A mirror held to time's swift glass.
And in that alignment, strange and deep,
A fragile faith began to leap.
"If futures known can be declared,"
The questioning spirit softly shared,
"Then surely realms beyond our sight,
Hold wisdom, truth, and guiding light."
The prophet's voice, a bridge it seemed,
Between the seen and what was dreamed.
A knowledge whispered, years before,
Opened a newly found belief's door.
So in the unfolding, stark and bold,
A personal story starts to unfold.
The question lingered, now takes flight,
"For how could prophets know what's right?"
And in that wonder, faith takes hold,
A story whispered, to be told.
The Holy Land neath hammer blows -
is this what Jesus prophesied:
when sad-sack’s hanged like mistletoes
the sightless see a suicide;
when thousands fall like dominoes
the blind deny it’s homicide;
when women fry in thermal throes
the gents reject it’s femicide
when rockets slaughter embryos
the fools forget it’s feticide
when children die and decompose
the dullards doubt infanticide;
when bodies burn with afterglows
no one concedes it’s genocide.
Whichever way the west wind blows
leaves morals dangling, crucified…
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