The Barbers shop
that water slick look
the jars of green antiseptic with combs
wind just trimming the awnings
edges like the laundry on the
cranky wheels
the chrome of the hardtops
gleaming like winter on the
ice...the crystalline memory
of it falling back like snapshots
stuttering
the wheel and the heat
from the projector
the radio
was heavy
with wild winded revelry
the fans metal head
swiveled side to side
tilted like a sunflower

Gentle was I then
Sitting in the courtyard of the maker
Enjoying the pre-life season
Thinking about nothing
'cus i had everything I needed

But then the call came
For someone to go to the earth
I looked around, here and there
Thinking the call wasn't for me
But you can't escape the maker's call

LOST IN ILLUSION

my words flow mellifluous
in the light of nighttime dreams.
and I fly with ease on a poet’s wings
into subliminal reality…
but all dreams end in disillusion.
there is no magic in this world,
miracles are for martyrs and saints
and hope is fantasy—a wish gone astray                        

What in hell is the mental block
I ask

If you great poets
one and all
visit the NIAGARA FALL
you will know
the river just does fall

So is it with poetry
after all
what is a poem
but a concoction
of words which come
some may shun
and
poetry comes
like a fountain

I have composed
so much trash
some swear
as much in similar moments
some were classified
as Gems

Never mind
read on
when you have a mental Blog

The day I left all I wanted was to
hug you. Hug you and remember
our last embrace, and I know that
this might be
the last time I see you.

Last time I see you and you're not in a picture,
last time I hear your voice and its not in a voice mail,
last time I breath the same air as you,
last time the idea of always has an expiration date.
Last time I will live with you before you're on the run
Last time I have to say goodbye because I cant handle leaving you again after this.

Through timelines immemorial
mankind has written poems.
With wordsmith nigh celestial
he filled nigh endless tomes.

Who wrote the first to poesy shape?
When did he recognize
the panacea’s posed escape
from all he did despise?

His epode came before his prose.
He beat the drums aloud.
Heartfelt the elegist knew throes
of joy and pain enshroud.

‘Longside the painter in the cave
the poet sang his song.
He sang of gods and heroes brave
and what he thought was wrong.

I want!
i want!
The garden where the fruits Are!
An after life enjoyment

i want!
i want!
The worldly enjoyment
what makes this world go round

I want!
I want!
if there is a world after this
Where my soul is understood

Don't judge me!
A Kubolor speaks!

Mom's Smiles

Very sentimental poetry
I recall my mom’s last eyes
no tears
Smiles as she passed by
tears did not then come
into my eyes
I too smiled

Then it rained
all day and night
mom’s smiles went away
now I thirst for those looks
till today
as she passed away

it rains till today
nearly five decades away
she still smiles daily at me
I, my mom can see
smiling with me

It does no longer rain
now it only snows
heaven knows
when she calls out to me

I hadn't seen you in 3 days.
your face was becoming less
of a face and more of a general
idea. I didn't know when I would
see you again and was afraid of
forgetting what you looked like all
together. But when you walked into
the room I realized that I had forgotten
the little details that make you human.