MISS OPPORTUNITIE
Miss Opportunitie came to se me once,
at the awakening of the sun.
I was too young to be gentle
and embrace her:
lack of experience coupled
with little light to see .

She then moved on,
or returned to …
Who knows where?

She came a second time.
It was noon time,
with blinding light.
And Experience having being
too busy and full of energy,
couldn’t care much to even let me
wink a blink in her direction.

She then moved on,
or return to…
Who knows where?

Another time,
at the setting sun time:
while I was napping
I had an overlapping thought.

Miss Opportunitie!

She returned to…
Who knows where?

Again when she comes,
I shall caress her
into napping on my lap.
Then we’ll snore and dream together
even have wet dreams
or nightmares, I don’t care.

I’ll hold her on my lap
‘til I awake
to see her eye to eye,
and communicate
my most delicate thoughts to her:
less experience denied
and vandalizing energy

Karmic Release
Oh you troubled restless Mongoose!
Vamping like a slithering viper
go up into the wood,
find a spot under a tree,
yell out loud like a wild coyote
and kick the devil out of you.
Two nights under the full moon
will suffice to subdue your rage.
A one-day bath of the high noon sun
will do to liberate you from this cage.
Oh yes! be gone, be gone,
you intruder over my shoulders
there is a place for you
in some other world with karmic blunders.

The Act
(Riding on the A-Train)

“Show time, Show time folks” –

Before the music could be heard,
dollar bills were finding their ways
out of purses and wallets.
In a flash, I had seen legs in the air
defying gravity’s stability
of the homo sapiens being.
Such is an act well done
to be on track for
a day’s worth of survival –

Next – that is the Station –

A fine gentle man stepped in and waited
for the door to close behind him.
Then with a purposeful gaze,
he took one more step forward
as if to hypnotize his captured audience.

I am sure you have seen him too
and heard his speech, solemn and dry.
He too had an act to be on track.

On a good day, this ride is merely
a short half-hour, and often I make it
on my feet holding firm to the pole,
as if it were my goal,
‘cause I too have an act to stay on track.

THE DARK SIDE OF ME
The dark side of me
is buried into the light
that others do not see;
a mirrored image
of black matter from the universe;
rays piercing through
the ignorant, arrogant egotist
of those claiming to be righteous.
The dark side of me,
dark as the midday sun
of the summer solstice
stands high while others run
with a shameful, bigoted notice.
The dark side of me
sits calmly as a prism
separating the wisdom
of ancient days
from the cracking noise
of eroded wisdom teeth.
Though the dark side of me
is as dark as a mystery
yet to be conceived,
the bright light of others,
in its pseudo-perception,
finds its sustenance
from the core of my darkness.