Blessed are the meek for they shall inherit the earth. 


Ode to Sabrina

Let me
You like a
Sweet poem…
Passions lie
In the heart
Like a mystic
Poems cascade
You in mystic
Your lips
Are soft
Sweet and
Let me cover
Them with
Kisses …
And show
Your erotic
Body to me…
Your breasts
Are soft
Mounts of snow…
Let me squeeze
Them in passionate
Let me suckle
Your nipples
In loving
Let me lick
Your honey
Orifice ….
And flow
You to a river
Of passion….
Let me mount
You and penetrate
You and soak
You ….

The Moon

The Druid awake
Now in the mist
Of the night….
A beauty
Of a dream
Gone by…..
Crystal ball
As a maverick
Of the moon,
Beyond the
Tree …
Up the soul
So sweet…
White robed
Saint ….
A panorama
Of the occult
In beauty…
Dogs howl
In ghostly

Confessional Memoir

It is with some trepidation that I write this autobiographical, confessional memoir. I have watched my mother grow old with age; her face is wrinkled like weed. She is frail as a stick. When I was young about 10, once, I watched her go to the restroom. It was an old rented house and there were crevasses in the door of the restroom. A mad demon came into me and I went to the crevasse, and I watched my mother nude. My heart trembled and body shook a strange feeling new born excitement came into me. Then all of a sudden I could feel the strong grip on my shoulders and stunned I turned back. To my fear it was my father. To my wildest surprise, he started laughing at me. It is the same father who initiated me to loving literature, poetry and philosophy. I thank him now with a grateful heart.

Caribbean Idol

It was decked in Gold!
It was an idol!
Once a preacher jibed at it saying, if the idol is immersed in water along with a dog, who will return.
The devotees of the Caribbean idol broke his legs.
The Caribbean idol was a celibate creature.
And for a long time only male devotees and women who had stopped menstruating were allowed entry.
A judge called Mr. Voodoo Shaman passed a verdict allowing the entry of women of all ages to the temple of the Caribbean deity.
Then all mayhem broke loose. The devotees of the Caribbean idol raised all fury. The ransacked shops, burnt houses, beat people and raved and ranted.
Women who came to attend the rituals of the Caribbean idol were with police protection allowed entry into the sanctorum.
The idols with human bodies are still vociferous and lamenting with fists.
I withdraw my pen in ironic humor. Alas my Caribbean idol, what crimes are committed in your name.


John wound himself and the clock. Poets twinkled in the sky. Morning was a passionate dream. Sound colored the sky. Baggage walked to the airport. I laughed till the sky fell on my head. Death is a venomous fang. He composed art and a song. Passion is the river of emotion. Song of love take refuge in the heart. Life is the beauty of a river. Birds glided as a gentle opera. Time has to live passionately. Luck is a bard of hope. Rain, I love its rhythms as it dances over the roof tops. Envy is death of the soul. Blues you are a figure of speech. The earth is a fruit tasty to be devoured. Angst lives in the soul and it fornicates the heart. Democracy is a myopic ballot. Ecstasy you live in the fruit of poetry.