I am a religious man from a small island in the Caribbean. Faith, love, hope and goodwill are my greatest possessions. My hope is as strong as the faith and the love that I have. Every day I search for truth in the pages of the Bible. The sacred texts help me to understand the real purpose of my life. Why should I dwell in a land where there is no peace? My hope is in a future paradise in which there will not be any suffering. So I must share my hope with the inhabitants of the world.
My principal desire is to obey the commandments of Jehovah. ...
A fleeting caress that transports; ghosting across senses seeing with mind's eye in amniotic rapture, Until disturbingly plunged back into the confused ocean of occurence; back to reality and its' strange delights.
I sit and absorb this moment I drink it in fill my lungs with every breath Sadly such instants come but far too rarely where I am completely and utterly at peace where time like the stars in sunlight fade away and nothing else exists except the beautiful now
Until the fool I am I rationalise that this moment cannot last forever And then like that the moment’s passed
He only called his mother and father by their names, His hoarse little voice only added mystery to his story, His mother would tell tales of how at mass he’d claim The statue of Jesus was “my papa” praising him in glory.
He was a free spirit, curious about others coming and going, Wandering the earth as if he was some kind of ancient soul, And the day before he died he went around collecting coins, We’ll never know what dreamt when he was only two years old.
If you gave me your flesh I would eat it, drink of your blood, crunch your bones between my teeth. I want to feel the crushing weight of your darkness on top of me. I want the animal in you to take me, the sufi in you to guide me with holy words, the mendicant to wander with me, soulless and beautiful.
If you are the alpha, I am your omega, we eat each other's tails in a cosmic, spiral dance. A sacred soixante-neuf. We, captivated by our own reflections, wheel through the universe.
What was it like when I met God? I tell you now I was gob stopped and quite surprised (and not in any heedless way) to see with dazzled eyes a vision quite the opposite of what my expectations were: that he in all his majesty’s a she.
We hold poems Like tiny hands, Reaching up to pull God down, One hand after the other, Endlessly Grasping, Glorifying our existence By shaming our downfall.
Yet, these hands do not see the hand that Dismisses, The hand that points outward within, The hand whose mercy Must be fear, Putting us in our place As definite and temporal, As the scrubbers of his golden feet, Shinier with each polishing.
Trembling before him I tug at his robe Begging him not to let me fall, For surely at this...