my little piece of ginger

I saw her it eating ginger
She did it secretly
Like it was taboo
A sin
Something not to be spoken of
She chewed at it
With surprising dedication
The curiosity couldn’t bid wait
What with the bitter taste in my mouth
I get the tingly burning sensation
Like the tongue is in momentary ecstasy
It was like a drug that raw ginger
She must have been addicted
I saw her eating ginger
One more time
And when she saw me see her
She hid it
Like it was a taboo
A sin
Something not to be spoken of
I stepped up and asked
So what is with this ginger?
“You really don’t want to know”
If I didn’t I would not have asked.
“It’s for the morning sickness”
“I told you, you wouldn’t want to know”
Still blank
I took a piece of ginger
This was for my nervous sickness

see the bright side of things

I was going through my poetry
The earlier drafts
I hoped I could find something that says exactly how I feel,
I found a letter
I did not write it,
It spoke to me


Reference: LIFE

I am God. Today I will be handling all of your problems. Please remember that I do not need your help.
If life happens to deliver a situation to you that you cannot handle, do not attempt to resolve it. Kindly put it in the SFGTD (something for God to do) box. All situations will be resolved, but in MY time, not yours. Once the matter is placed into the box, do not hold onto it by worrying about it. Instead, focus on all the wonderful things that are present in your life now.
If you find yourself stuck in traffic; don’t despair. There are people in this world for whom driving is an unheard of privilege.
Should you have a bad day at work; think of the man who has been out of work for years.
Should you despair over a relationships gone bad; Think of the person who has never known what it's like to love and be loved in return.
Should you grieve the passing of another weekend; Think of the woman in dire situations, working twelve hours a day, seven days a week to feed her children
Should your car break down, leaving you miles away from assistance; Think of the paraplegic who would love the opportunity to take that walk.
Should you notice a new gray hair in the mirror; think of the cancer patient in chemo who wishes she had hair to examine.
Should you find yourself at a loss and pondering what is life all about, asking what my purpose is? Be thankful. There are those who didn't live long enough to get the opportunity.
Should you find yourself the victim of other people's bitterness, ignorance, smallness or insecurities; Remember, things could be worse. You could be one of them.
Just know friend that I do things MY way. Take care and remember that you are not alone.

the ghosts of my bitch miranda

I used to have a faithful dog
The kind that loved to wag it's tail
I used to have a homely dog
That lay on the lap
That danced to my tap
Now I'm haunted by the ghosts of my dog Miranda
The one I put down with stones
And whip lashes with nails
Bitch bit me when I served
For I picked out lean meat and served her bones
And I would have let her live
For she got her fair share of bones from the neighbor's plate
And biting's off the butcher's counter
And leftovers from the butcher's wife
Miranda went around and came back home to scrappings off the floor
I guess she felt she was stooping to low
Now I'm less someone to meet me at the door
And I'm haunted by ghosts each time I need a newspaper fetched or more

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we are but birds

There are several ways to kill a cat, half of which are still under experiment. There are equally just as many ways to skin a rat, but very few people can come up with ways to keep a rat or cat alive. I am taking a weird tangent I can barely think of a way or a thought that’s pure. I am alive. I possess a chance to make things right. That is a start. To what, I don’t exactly know. We are but birds flying distinct paths, we are vessels made of brittle porcelain. We are half brittle half strong. We must be constantly baked to realize our full potential. Alas! Who are we, always on the move constantly searching for answers that we may know what we don’t. Persistent until we find out, yet when we find out we are unsatisfied. We are troubled by our own minds, slaves to our actual selves and fugitives of the truth, whom shall we trust if we can’t trust ourselves? Whom shall we believe if we can’t believe ourselves?
We are born pure; every holy book believes we are born without sin, without blemish. Along the way the clean slate we are given at birth is dirtied by the involvement with other people as we live. Our purity is diluted slowly by the tiny evil deeds we pick up along the way. With age comes the ability to choose between evil and good. Our conscience clouded or not plays a part in the decisions we make. Some are good and we enjoy and revel in them but others are poor and from them we gain experience after learning our painful lessons. We learn or we enjoy. For everything we do in this life there are consequences. We are told we will be punished for every foolish word we say, we will be reprimanded for all our unlawful deeds. Sometimes we desire our slates were clean, and instead of doing it the hard way of cleaning and clearing it all up we flee. We are but birds.
Fathering children at every corner we pop into skipping off to the next. I do not claim to be better or any different but I do desire to be different, to be someone else not this. Not a bird that perches on every tree, a bird that flees in times of disaster. If I have to be a bird then may at least be an eagle to perch up the highest cliff, to make a life not to the nearest branch to host noisy chirps. Or we could be fish, then there will be many, many of us.

Icarus or Daedalus?

 “If it fails, admit it frankly and try another. But above all, try something.”
Franklin D. Roosevelt (1882-1945);
32nd U.S. President

Young, agile & energetic any more desire you may have?
It is constant rebuttal
I have finished with one
I have one more to go
One more to give
One more to take
Just one more time my faith to test
I am worried
It’s all I have ever been
I may never recover from this
I just hope there is -at least- oxygen in hell
For then I will know it will be well