Candle Light

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You start a small fire in my heart
I protect it though the awaiting pain
I care for it so it would last through.
love is a candle light in constant motion

I wake up in the morning, small fire is in my heart
Too much movement can attract air. So I remain
As my mind is illuminated by many thoughts of you

if I can’t prevent it from dying,
I’ll convince myself to go to class
Where at 1:50 PM, when over 400 young adults
Are pushing their way out of a lecture hall,
I can make my way to you.
It’s not hard to find a flame in a crowd.
Then you’ll smile: igniting a small fire in my heart


It turns out that this girl was gay. I do wish she had told me that after I gave her this poem though…or at any point during the 3 years after I started talking to her, before I learned that very key information.

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Room 322

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the artists lounge in a room full of instruments
so daily performances don’t need advertisements.
Real-life athletes crowding the line of vision
television beaming football; Playstation X.
the most ecstatic floor in the building

But Room 322 is where beds join the chairing team
they talk like an open door. Invitation is never key
a room I walk past three different stairways, turn
walk by two more stairways, sometimes an elevator
take the stairs rarely used just so I’ll pass in front of

Her. She’d drive miles to that room
She’d go down a hill, walk under a bridge
follow the trail through trees thick at night
swivel among buildings made like Legos
painted in the uniform color of misdirection

I would too. Just to see her gold colored flats,
no-show socks, braces glimmering on a smile
when she smiles, I would feel too comfortable
when it’s late, perhaps 8, I would find a need
go somewhere non-urgent. Get there by walking

past three different sets of staircases, then turn,
walk by two other staircases, sometimes an elevator,
to take the stairs barely used, just to pass by Room 322.
delay my steps, turn my head, see her talking, laughing
where a hunter does not need some scheme to catch her


Y’all, this girl AGREED to go on a date with me after I had put my GAME ON for her but I was too much of a coward to follow through with the date!!!!! 😦

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Before they Bounded my Mind

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Before I could swim,
I walked on water.
I needn’t to float
I missed not a boat.
The waters paved flat;
Held me. Just like that.

Deeds reserved for gods
were always! my habits
I was unveiled to growth and
suddenly! I learned of sand
lived by Land—the way of men.

Before I was prudent,
I hadn’t the need to Survive.
I laughed, Revitalized the universe.
But they told me I am bound to land
And it is my Enemy

Before I could write,
I was the Essence of life’s journey
I traveled without these sheets
It was all there, at my access.
I had a longing for nothing

Now,
I Tread to breathe just a little longer
As I wish I could just Walk on water


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Love Your Broken

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there’ll be a Pit on this journey
perhaps a Stop.

an encounter with promises
holding smiles kept broken by deception.

Arrange tables, brush seats
pour relaxation, feed fables
sorry, forgiveness, regrets;
everytime given the obscure choice,
you abandoned your faithful promises.

Look within your heart
fabricate stories far fetched
the reality built in the imagination:
what if I had stayed loyal?
held the promises made to myself?

blames won’t be tossed
grief will be Lost.
After all, these Promises are not the only ones broken.


Inspired by: “Love After Love” – Derek Walcott

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Adults in a Playground

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The water sprouts with excitement!
I remember the days of my innocence
when cloudy skies were not a metaphor;
an omen to validate pessimist outlooks on life

“Oh! Go play, baby! Mommy will come in a bit”
A leaf falls farther from heaven
reminder of the magic we’ve surrendered
for the repetitive nature of the life we chose;
a machine that doesn’t truly stop moving

Daddy is busy again.
So plant the excitement in the concrete playground
With a distant hope for the blossom of laughter
Although it may be too deep for growth through concrete;
play opportunities, buried by boundaries.


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Common Philosophy

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How does a snake know of flying?
How does an eagle know of crawling?
If they’ve spent their entire life among their companions
Discussing philosophy, discovery, with like-minded individuals?

How do we use our minds to improve society if these same minds have dragged society to the rubbles that it currently lays in?


This piece is from a poem that I’m considering releasing as a part of a poetry book. It won’t be released anytime soon, but it’ll happen.

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Post-Rainy Day

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i woke up
to a post-rainy day
and i complain of the rain
but the birds are happy.

an air contaminated, but with a warm embrace
the smell of calm comfort
to breathe in
in an atmosphere of relief

the rain taps my window with an invitation
but still left its loyalty when i responded in fear.
i curse the wetness of my decaying possessions,
the ground rejoices for the refreshing cleanse

the trees stand bright and green
flowers dance, though dirt on their leaves
i look, i smile
close my eyes, ask myself why

clouds in the sky
inspires my somber thoughts
but the streets are at peace
and a casual stroll becomes therapeutic

a cool descends from heaven;
the sun reveals a new shine of light;
worms find reason to leave the darkness;
the birds decorate outside with a chorus


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English Girl

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It’s a constant doing:
trying to catch your eyes
so i can demonstrate the smile i’ve been working
on in my mirror every night to impress you
so you’d return a smile that purifies me more
than mine ever deserved your attention.

I’d tell my friends:
i’m not into you…like that
but each time you walk in i race to find
the parts of you imprisoning my attention

Sandals for footwear:
casual; the art of “i don’t care”
everyone competes each other’s looks
catch views with their suffering hooks
but you be you: simple—a natural form

From lazy hair
to the liberty in your steps,
(i know you were not even trying)
the casual black leggings, random sweater
plain face for the world to see, shirt dancing
tango with your body. a beauty disrespectful

So my mind flies
to a future you and i smile to
get lost in…into our bedtime. until I wake up!
run to English class: a race, when you walk in
a wish, that you were mine.


A FEW THINGS:

Thing One: The last time I saw this girl was on the last day of my English class back in University in 2015, but till this day I still regret having been too wimpy chicken to shoot my shot at her (court her/ask her on a date). I didn’t even have the courage to give her this poem!! ::(((( #sadnessandtears

Thing Two: I could’ve sworn I had posted this poem here already at some point in the past, but I searched through my archives and couldn’t find it. If I did post it before, and you had read it in the past, well congrats! You get to read it a second time ::))))) (you’re welcome)

Thing Three: Here’s a poem titled Indie girl, click here. Here is the video for Indie Girl, click here.

Thing Four: Here’s a song I REALLY love called “Polish Girl”, click here.


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The Walk Home

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home is a place in the distance that always felt near
an echo in the hills rebounding in my ears
 
it’s a darkness that i keep returning towards
a blind horse confident in its goal
 
i’ve been chasing
you’ve been chasing through the years
for a place to belong
 
ever since we started to walk their path
we’ve been getting farther from proper sense
“look to those around and be in common”
but next i know, i’m losing my common sense
 
their 2 cents is payment to straighten my life’s journey
but walking their path is stripping me of all my expense
their wisdom is currency, so i give pennies for their thoughts
 
but now i don’t have a dollar to my name.
this is cents-less so i’m walking my own path
and you should too! because home is a place
in the distance that always felt near
 
we criticize other’s paths and methods
but we are all doing the same thing
 
chasing sun rises until our sun sets
dancing along our vibration and resonance
 
digging through the unthinkable for something
one simple thing that is already in our belonging
although still needs to be found
 
no matter how far it strays
no matter how deep it lies
even if it doesn’t make any sense
because home is a place in the distance
but each time i chase it always feels near
 
can’t you hear it?
an echo out in the hills
telling me that i belong
rebounding in my ears

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Losing My Immunity

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I miss Haiti.
I miss Haiti like a corpse miss its soul

The longer they’re apart
The more the corpse loses all senses
All stability.
So it withers,
It dries.
It rejects itself. And the soul doesn’t know who.

The longer I’m away from my country
The more I lose my senses
Then my life.
So I wither,
My juice dries
The culture rejects me. The country doesn’t know who.

Whenever I go back
They ask “yoh watsap…mann”
Demand if I’m American. Force it upon me
enbyen, ou gentan ameriken, manno” “ou bliye Kreyol ou?” **

I get sick.
No. Really, I always get sick when I go back. My immune system has weakened

Foreign lands have a way of telling you
To relax your arms. Let your guards down. You’re safe.
There’s a better future for you, here.
They wrap their hands around your shoulders.
Walk into the sunset,
From your country,
That they’re burning, behind you.

This country. Ayiti.
Has an impenetrable immunity
Shakable, but impenetrable.

But you wouldn’t understand
You’re a foreigner.

The country loved me. Caressed me. Raised me.
Planted seeds in me.
While I,
Relocated overseas. Deafened myself to its screams of my name
Then write songs about destiny
And where I’m supposed to be.

I fertilized and grew these seeds into fruits
To bring as an offering of gratitude.
“Mom, look what I made!”
Pitit mwen, pou kisa w te kite m?”

*My child, why did you leave me?*

**well then, you’re already American, Charles? You forgot your Haitian Creole?

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