The roses weep
tears of red
like blood fallen
from a heart
pierced
by the thorn
of betrayal.
Secrets do not keep
and each has fled
to wreak mayhem
like a roadside tart
with a rabid thirst~
no need to inform
or bewail.
Yet another vestige of love lost
whetted cheeks and swollen eyes
life's cruel moments wreak havoc
within the softness of one's heart.
A heart stops beating with malice
the breath gone in a rattle and hum
final whispers and the brain quivers
dormant pulse and a bluish pallor.
The tempest roars insatiably loud
a body can be lost, never to be found
great ships disintegrate upon granite
lives are left, penned on parchment.
The Reaper stares jubilant from rocks
as a grand lighthouse loses once more.
Clothing and splintered wood float by
as rubble and rabble left on the shore.
In a stormy gale, glows a freakish orb
slapped by the tail of a golden stingray
harbinger doomed in a soulless sky
tears in the torrent beget a dark night.
“You saw them two sticks of that chicks’ and you know when you saw them you would easily be teased until on your knees, bereaved and pleased just by one simple hint of a squeeze breezing by the easily greasy feasibly weave that would succeed the mead that would come from honey by the bunny that would breed the pleading steed doing the deed that would not only completely beat the heat but accomplish the feat leaving the steep cleat carousing creeps to seek a new discreet meet up to wreak their teal dealing tear drop one stop hop hillbilly thrills of the buzz kills that go to stop the lot of pill popping pushers of the lush gush ers who stutter when one blunder makes a whole sunder of plunder wonder scum but humble for some done shunned gunning under-run mung crumb grumblers who then became grateful because the fate of the hate breaking masturbating mating rituals became habitually cyclically mystical in the fulfilling pill-killer of a psycho thriller!!!!!!!!!!!!!
"I'm not afraid of storms, for I'm learning how to sail my ship." — Louisa May Alcott.
The rain and sleet mingle together.
Wayward winds weigh me down,
Wetting my poor old clothes thoroughly.
I walk alone through deep pools,
How can I not be shivering in the storm?
The wraithlike winds increase the wetness of my face,
Water seeps down my tattered clothes.
I curse the closed shops and unsheltered houses.
How can I survive this miserable downpour?
Dark Cimmerian clouds cover the whole city.
The forces of weather mingle thoroughly.
I find no respite in such a mingle of a cyclone.
Let thunder wreak havoc in the hurricane,
I’ll find my strength by hook or by crook.
I’ve learned there is a shelter I’ll find,
A change of clothes, a purge of soul:
A mingle of hope, survival, and resilience
That somehow will cleanse my heart and teach it love.
Placed 1
Mother, I saw the bewildered eyes that couldn't tell their neighborhood from
Gaza, and ears tuned to the whining bombs and drones that whirl above incessantly,
wreak, burn, decimate, with scientific precision. And then someone showed me the CNN
headline news "Collateral damage," our new unsavory adjective.
Oh mother, I saw you cheering above the clouds our brave citizens, defying the bombs, marching with fists of iron, homage to the majesty of Iran, marking a new mythology.
And now I hear your voice: Give them a helping hand, and lift them beyond their sorrow and grief, above this raging smoke of fire engulfing the city. The rain shall come and washes the smoke and the tears.
I employ your faith mother, wounded by the shattered windows, yet persevering, and proud.
A REFLECTION ON WEATHERING TODAY’S STORMS OF LIFE
As I awoke, the Breaking News
Was death-frightening:
“Treacherous Winter Storm Arriving!”
“Expect Single-Digit Low Temperatures!”
“Days Of Ice And More Than 6 Inches Of Snow!”
“Power Outages Are Expected!”
“Most Forms Of Transportation Will Be Affected!”
“This Threatening Storms Is Expected
To Reek Havocs Never Seen Before!”
Hearing these headlines, my heart rate
And blood pressure rose tremendously:-
Obviously, I felt afraid and hopeless.
Then it dawned upon me where I was!
Nothing here in America could wreak worse hazards
Than today’s bigoted, oppressive, political climate:-
Thus, I relaxed, got up, and prepared myself
For another day of God’s survival navigations
Through nature’s and human nature’s trials,
And weathering tribulations, preceding my
Springing overcoming of these hazards
And their oppressive wintering trials:-
Indeed, glory be to our liberating God:
For every wintering time in our lives,
He will send his springing healings:-
On Halloween night
My neighbor looked
Up in the sky and was
Mesmerized by a
Bewitching moon that
Had turn sky blue so
She shouts, it looks
Like witches are going
To drop from the sky
Suddenly, witches literally
Dropped from the sky
And wreak havoc on the
Neighborhood all night
Their faces ‘don’t fit’
So we can’t put it on the news
- we don’t want to upset the likes
Of Benjamin Netanyahu
What will we tell our children ?
How many blind eyes will the world turn?
The world just stood and watched
As Gaza was bombed , flattened and burned
Sleep soundly Netanyahu
Tucked up in your comfy bed
But soon the Palestinian deaths you caused
Will wreak havoc in your head
May the sounds of thousands of screaming , dying children
Play constantly in your ears
May the souls of all you have killed
Act out on all your fears
As our governments conspires
to protect this war criminal
The rest of the world will take action
And condemn him to eternal hell
The world drowns us in problems
Then expects us to breathe solutions
In a society that demands whispers of lullabies rocking them to sleep
Whilst we deal with the havoc they wreak
Safe in the silence of their homes
Black women have to deal with the chaos outside alone
The white man's mess becomes the black persons job
Our pay - racism
Seems familiar, reminds you of anything
Maybe, a modern day version of slavery
No rest for the wicked they say
So why are the oppressors still sleeping
The good are punished
The evil rewarded
I guess we just live in a one-sided system
Where being a victim, makes you a villain
Our worth determined by how much blood we pour
The more we bleed, the more we are adored
Our pain is entertainment, they'll never get bored
For them it's like a cure for the common cold
Like an answer to all the world's problems
For them we are a sacrificial lamb
Something to feed off of, then be rid of the scraps
The story of our lives
Used then are blamed for our cries
Then are denied of our rights
To be humans not slaves
I accepted being the third wheel
But now the fifth?
It's like I'm made out of steel
I became a myth
Still can't believe it's real
I can feel everything in my pith
I wake up everyday
Hoping it won't ever be the same
I want to stay
At the same time, I want to erase my name
Feel like I have to pay
Cuz' I am to blame
That îs the way
To slowly burn in the flame
I can no longer speak
I talk with my yes
I feel weak
Oh, what inside lies
Thought I was unique
But someone who continuously dies
Îs just a freak
That would never reach the skies
A total wreak
Even thought it tries
So, you're telling me that you can be
a dirtbag for your entire earthly life...
Wreak havoc on the community and all of mankind.
Then, on the deathbed, accept Jesus-ask for forgiveness.
Then everything's alright?
I don't agree with it at all.
This scale is unbalanced and highly flawed.
Seems to me this last-minute soul is cutting in line.
Slipping Saint Peter, a mickey, the golden Jesus ticket
Slithering through the pearly gates...
While the souls of Mother Theresa and Dali lama circle the drain.
O’ Casagemas,
what is this Heartbreak I hear,
from this woman with sagged, fired breasts
and onion hips that tell a strumpet?
This cruel, shameless voyeur
with little mind — who owns a
vainglorious torso;
a Lady Serpent, viperous!
O’ Casagemas,
this Heartbreak hurts,
running streams of cold blood at cockcrow.
We cannot be counted among men
but among lizards with tail monuments.
Veronica, Juliet, Ada or Ulu?
How does one even spell her name, with votive
words, or with streaks of bleeding ink?
Heartbreak spills from a hollow platter, gushing
cascades of heated tears.
Caustic! A ruinous fountain.
Dream.
Casagemas sprouts, a monocotyledon
on which she feasts — succubus!
Incubus at noon.
Night.
Painted on the frame of a subtopia,
this naked virago — pulse of falsetto —
weeps at the feet of the grave of Casagemas.
Morning.
Velvet roses and tailored satin, pink and white fluff
for Casagema’s Rebirth
and christening ceremony.
In attendance:
fair daughters of Eve, naked, baby-fresh and
Casagemanous, to wreak vengeance on this
hag with a fluke in her liver.
Two nights from now
for the 3,337th time
Israel will tell the story
of her redemption
from Egypt
from generations of enslavement there
On that night there will be
suspense, screams and tears
rejoicing and Hallelujahs
tears of fear and relief
cries of jubilation after all these years
Even before you ask it
the answer to your question --
An aura surrounds Passover night
an aura of anticipation
of expectation
that God Himself
in all His glory
will wreak havoc
and judgment
on Pharaoh and Egypt
On her no-gods
on ‘Ra,’ her ‘mighty Sun-god’
on the Lamb, the ‘King of her gods’
for He will do so by cover of Night
slaying their every first-born
after Israel slaughters the Lamb
Tempests of
inclemency
Cyclones filled
with pain
Tornadoes come
and go at will
With nothing
to remain
Caught inside
their whirlwind
Whose spin to wreak
and hurl
A demon vortex
roaming wild
Destruction
— to unfurl
(The New Room: April, 2025)
He has an evil eye.
The scorpion is unlikely to stop being a villain.
Who sits quietly.
And enjoys sunlight sometimes.
And shadows at other times.
The scorpion would like a cup of tea.
He feels the sting.
When the bee in the beehive.
Won’t give a spoonful of honey for his tea.
Despite the fact that-
They both enjoy sweetness.
The rejection is stinging worse than his own tail.
So he enters the maze instead.
Where the serpent lives.
The scorpion doesn’t like tall hedges.
But wants to visit his friend.
The serpent.
He meets his friend, the serpent.
Who is a villain as well.
The serpent looks down and sees the evil eye on his friend’s back.
Wonders why he doesn’t visit often.
Well,
This maze is a little serpentine.
With evil passageways and dead ends all around.
But that’s just who the serpent is.
Ride on the serpent’s back.
He trusts that you won’t sting.
Enjoying sweetness.
And evil too.
The maze is easy when you’re with someone who understands it.
They exit the maze.
To wreak havoc all around.
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