POISÒNOUS RIVER


“i will turn my heart into rays of honour

whenever I see your beauty and make you twinkle like a wild flower

I will make you twinkle. This is how I slay the leviathan impulses of envy and jealousy;

I honour the honoured to attract her grace

instead of fighting within me, against this multifaceted splendour

An envious soul is a poisonous river,

a bitter gall,

chasing after the shades of the ocean,

to alter its boundless energy and candour

“Don’t let him near, don’t come closer, the oceans lamented

He has turned pastures into deserts and

great cities into cemeteries.

A wildfire, infatuated with man.

Poisonous rivers flow through the soul of this city. O’ wretch men, who will save us from this wildfire.
Many rivers run, into the ocean, but the motivation is not to find freedom of self. Many will arrive yet will not be “there”. How can one be there when the heart is not there but imprisoned in the wild dance of others. He is poor, whoever has not arrived in his authentic place of fulfilment; detached from all

“For where envying and strife is, there is confusion and every evil work. (James‬ ‭3:16‬ ‭KJV‬‬)

Prisoners of the wild dance of others. I can celebrate others but I resent. I can be inspired by others but I slander. I can ask how to but I assume the negative in silence. O’ prisoner of the wild dance of others, Who will save me from this wretched economy

SEAT OF PROCRASTINATE


You will hear the inspiration, the invitation of the future. When he comes get yourself out of the procrastinate seat

He comes every day. Your ear must be in the moment, detached from the woes and wins of yesterday

Your woes undermine your conviction to fly and your wins make you feel you’ve already arrived

Both are enemies. Don’t listen to them. Set your gaze like flint and pilgrim with the air to the unknown heights

A future awaits you

Harbingers Lullabies


Personally, Mothers days are one of those special occasions I spiritually connect with single mothers, and all the women who don’t have kids they could call their own. To some women mothers day is a day of misery because it reminds them of their battles with a series of miscarriages, death, and disappointments in pregnancy. This poem is my heartfelt prayer and encouragement to you, who is battling in any of these areas. You are not alone. I honour and celebrate you from the depths of my heart. ➕💚



The voice of the moon:

a constant reminder to you

that you’ve not been left

alone, to stumble in the dark


Give her soft wings to Fly

Give her sunshine to Bloom


The weight of not having to carry

a child she will call her own

who would serenades her heart with

mama’s lullabies

depletes her soul every day,

especially today.


Give her soft wings to fly

Give her sunshine to bloom


She’d believed in a lie

That she’s not fruitful, that she’s not a mother

No one ever told her she’s the mother of the universe,

and the voice of the moon is a constant reminder,

that she’s not left alone in the dark, to stumble.


O’ moonchild, weary flower:

The universe is your Son, and

the moon is the messenger

of thy glad tidings.

You are not alone.

O’ mother of many nations


Photo Credit: Jenifer Yoswa

FEBRUARY LONGINGS


Love like soft rains caressing

the edges of fragile temples

When you are near.

Colors of the universe blooms

brighter than Eden,

When you are near.

In the stillness of heartbeats, in awe of you

Drinking from your cup

Of the lovers love presence

We have become satisfied mirrors.

a perfect mirror of goodness; Reflecting

unparalleled beauties of

beauty.

O’ infinite friend of the friendless wayfarers

Please, come home. Come home!

Come home to our homeless hearts and souls,

Of February longing hearts, Of shattered dreams and turmoil

O’ come, my gardener

Your flower child awaits you. In longings of February.

“Take me with you, and we’ll run away; be my king and take me to your room. We will be happy together, drink deep, and lose ourselves in love. No wonder all women love you!” (Song of Songs‬ ‭1:4‬ ‭GNTD‬‬)

PHOENIX RISE


Death hurts. Death makes us alive. Sometimes.

Sometimes, living hurt more than death.

Suddenly, deep compassions has arrive like a merchant ship from the East

The day the oceans evaporated into an unknown skies,

we became humans again. We died too, with our souls. The day a bird of prey took away the only child
of the widow from Maki.

Tenderness has arrive; deep inside the souls hardened rooms.

Saints weeping. Sinners mourning. All of us sat on ash heaps. As if we lost our own bosom child.

Love has arrive. Gratitude has arrive.

The soul of this city is alive, weaving new threads

to reconnect ourselves together again.

Now my eyes have seen what it never saw

a day before the oceans emptied itself into deep into shadows of darkness

Who would have thought,

that common enemies would become friends,

lifting each other soul to the embrace of the the smiling sun.

Humility has arrive. Pride is a forgotten allied.

Offenses, the principal of our egotistical set tables are trashed into dustbins.

Forgiveness has arrive, ‘cause our hearts are

pliable, and contrite like liquid love; overwhelmed by

the madness of the oceans disappearing.

How long can we keep this fire burning?

As long as we ponder and reflect on our own fragility and

the uncertainty of life.

As long as we could look deeper within our own souls,

that nothing is here forever, except love.

Sometimes I wonder why one has to die —

Before the world is awakened from her slumber

like Phoenix rising.

But, such is the mystery of life.

I’ll truly miss the day I’ll disappear —

O’ I’ll miss those beautiful songs and chants of those who never

shared their bread in my afflictions. That is another mystery of life—

We shall be loved by those who genuinely loved us,

and those who never did, and even those who prayed for our demise.

at the edge of eternity. Maybe I’ll smile — gripped by

the mere sight of cosmic awakening and

the thick hypocrisy on the faces of those who never loved us.

INSPIRED by

Kobe Bryant’s Demise
May His Soul Rest in Peace

ocean friend


I felt your love like soft rains 

caresses my soul in the mornings,

because I was near.

Colors of my world,

brighter than Eden,

when you are near;

full of love and truth.

Heartbreaking, emptiness:

My days are dry, my soul

is thirsty, the journey seems long.

O’ Ocean friend, please come

Come, build your throne in

this wilderness of hearts,

for I desire your presence,

to bloom again.

Copyright 2018