I’m The Only One

My Mind mill...

3b0c7e475a09964ab683a124000803db Art by Timothy M. Parker;  via Pintrest.com

When these drums
Began to sound
I tapped my feet gently
To its rhythm
I tossed my head sideways
And allowed my locs
To sway in the breeze

The drummer did not
Beckon me
He did not hassle
Nor convince me

He simply had his head
Buried in a vacuum
And allowed his hands
He did not touch me
Only a smile

It was I who closed
My eyes and waved my
Hands in the air

It was I who got up
To wiggle my waist
And teach
my entire body
How to get drowned
In its pleasure;
The sound of emptiness

This rhythm will not
Fade out when
I stop Dancing
No!

It rather will
Transcend this space
I Occupy,  to reach
Farther distances

When I have come
To reckon this
Song is for the
Entire World
And not just me;

When my…

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Unwind

This reminds of my piece on Utopia.

Thinkings

A long day of slaving away works a number on all of us. You find yourself looking at the time and wishing you had a time machine and a truck full of cash, maybe you could get away and buy a house right by the beach and not have to work as much every again. This is me especially on a Wednesday, when I’ve survived half the week but hanging there for the remaining half to go by. I mostly just want to get home, kick back and make a lot of love without having to look at the time.

So this day I was having a day just like what I’ve described, I was aching to get the day over and done with and get home. He knows the look I have when I’m exhausted; my eyes are half open, sometimes reddish and I am not in the mood…

View original post 127 more words

WHEEL

Ever stared at flight attendants

as they wheel out their trolley

Seat by seat

they pave through the narrow aisle;

serving cherished passengers

 

With melodies of syrupy soft voices

they exclaim;

Tea or Coffee

Cocktail or Tequila

All meddling with the turbulence and engine sound

 

Bit by bit

Push or Pull

They trundle the trolley into the galley

 

Hoop loop

Flocks of birds dive in the air

as aircraft fly off to its final destination.

Wheel

MEDDLE

You meddle,

interfere

in my affairs

as if they were yours

and you were me – Ms. Rona C. Catubig

 

A borrowed poem, kindly be aligned. Author recognized in the poem.

 

Meddle

RETRIEVED

I wish I could retrieve the love I once disowned

The art of longing over surcharged feelings

Which has since long been omitted

May time give us a second chance for love’s sake

 

Relieved