The Human Child (Echo From Hills of Exile)

Ok hello all, this one here is a double doze. Hope you like it. Hills Of Exile, the novel series coming soon.  Enjoy.              


         Come and see today this frail child! We should run up the hills with our babies and let not their screams echo through this crestfallen night of terror.  The fortuneteller told his mother he was the source of her misfortune. So every night she told him she drank chlorine and blue dye to fry him as embryo.

Come and see this frail child in the barn. Judgment found him before the rapture. Torn by confusion the neighbor fueled his rage and he got off from the placenta of the whinnying horses. Every night in his jumper suit pajama, checkerboard style, he crossed that dusty road head bent from shame, lantern in his hand and into the barn he went.

Come and see the forgotten soul. Too much finger-pointing, unfair acts, they said he pee to bed every morning so his mother made his bed with the mosquitoes and horses in the barn.

Come and watch the grieving son of the mentally displaced woman. The ten-cent that was stolen was needed to get oil for the lamp. They blamed and beat him for it even though he was at the well, playing with the friendly girl from next door. His giggles and warm laughter for her turned into pain and suffering. He had hoped that one day she would see him not as the abused child but a boy ready for love.

Hey neighbor that dead boy in the barn lived next door. Last summer, he watched her fall in love with Johnny and never came to the well again. When the sassy boy twice his age dragged him down that hill and scratched his cheek his mother told him, “Be a man!”

Come and let’s see the imageries of the tortured boy. The noises made by strange men every night over his mother, the strange shrieks of his mother, he used to be down by the bedside awake and watching their shadow beaming against the wall by the faded lamp. Sometimes they touched him, sometimes they beat her and then they beat him.

The boy is half roasted. His organs still boil from the fire. His teeth and face, skulled—we should run up that hill with our babies and never bring them down here. He was evil they said. At age twelve he masturbated before the three kids who beg for candy on Halloween night.

We should take him into the wheelbarrow and throw his body in that running gutter that only happens in the spring. I am sure we know where his mother is. Lying on the squeaky bed with legs wide open for cash, and that crusty needle on that silver platter, the marks on her hands are not ants bite either. We just don’t know. It was God’s wrath? The lamp fell from the ceiling and set him and the barn on fire.

Watch her lift her steaming mouth and pretend to cry for her son. She’s probably letting off some of that tension of being too high. And that bottle in her hand wasn’t meant for oil either.



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Be Brave…You are Not Alone

Marcus, be brave, be strong, be persistent. The fight you promised to fight is at hand. Your fear now is only an illusion because you were trained, molded and fixed for this. All those times you fell and got up, all those times you wept alone, they were trainings for today. How can you forget so quick!? Wake up, put on your amor. Fight! I prophecy your victory.

Be brave, be strong, be persistent. You are not alone. Look by your right there stand ten angels brandishing their swords against your aggressors. Look to your left there stand another fifty ready to fist your foes to oblivion. Behind you, all along, the Might One had alway held you up, training you for a time like this. You will reach your destiny!

Smile now? Be brave, be strong. You are not alone.


The Story of Us

          Written many years ago, this did not come with a menu and I had to mold you by my own hands. It was not easy because I was innocent too, still searching for that youthful touch. Sometimes you fell to the ground and cracked your skull and I had to use the molding pan and spin that potter wheel. Sometimes you though it was harsh, sometimes you thought I was mean, but look at you now. You don’t have to say a word I can see it in your eyes how graceful you’ve become.

            Long ago we drove the bus together on I-95 and you told me there was better days ahead and that book you held up confidently proclaiming its truth, I am not sure it was prophecy then but you turned out ok when I kissed you on the cheek and breathed in the air of fatherly pride.

            College was not easy but yeah it was reality. All those broken hearts and those late night calls I was your father and accepted the challenge; you where heading for something great and I was glad to be a part of. We may recount our sorrows and lament some wasted times. But dear child, that’s vanity. The story of us is filled with memories that I can tell you we will be fine. I can see a divine hand happily steering us to the finish line.




The Lover’s Journey: Part 4

My lover my friend, this journey I take,

There have been mountains and valleys

Rivers and mire, even the decadent dosages

Of medicines were not enough to deter me.

Here I come, here I run.

I am hoping to see you on that hill,

Through the bright heavenly light,

Your hair in the wind…

Ah…I am a blessed soul!

Here I come, here I die,

I am indeed in hast to be in your arms.

Thanks you for reading. Hope you liked it.


The Lover’s Journey: Part 3

My Lover, my friend, this journey I take,

They said I was a fool to vow for your affection

And that through the frail winter winds,

And scorching summer sun,

Even the brown leaves of the autumn’s bliss

Would leave me helpless and drain,

But here I come.

Never before have I wanted anything,

And if there was any bliss to be have,

It’s you and me between the cottons and hays.

I can’t wait to be in your arms.

The last part comes out tomorrow. I hope you liked it. It was just for fun anyway, nothing serious.


The Lover’s Journey: Part II

My lover my friend, this journey I take,

I am indeed in hast to be in your arms.

This world has been cruel to me,

This world has been strange to me;

The doctors’ needles and hanging bags of liquids,

The preacher’s bible and encouraging words,

The congregation and their holy songs,

Even our Lucy’s whimpers

All I think about is your whispers, those sweet lips,

Just the thought of you, I am even stern now.

I can wait to be with you!

To be continued…




The Lover’s Journey

My lover, my friend; this journey I take,

Only for your kiss.

May it heal that, which was broken by your long absent;

Our long apart separation,

I have been through four seasons, longing for your love.

Hear my voice on the wind; hear my cry through the storm.

I am hungry for your love,

I am taking this journey.

To be continued…

This is a four parts poem. Come back tomorrow for part 2. Follow to see how the journey ends. Thanks.


Chased and Shot

This is my soul, this is my life, this is my race.
I’m chained by my color, I’m denied my destiny.
Young, youthful, my skittle, soda,
I cry mama!
Under this cold moony night I was
Chased and shot

This was not my time,
But was I a symbol, hooded up?
The same damn thing, over and over!
One voice clustered in hope,
Screaming for freedom that seems to fade every time,
I’m Chase and shot.

I cry for justice, we cry freedom.
An illusion, denial;
The evidence, acquittal, self-defense, profiling!
I was chased and shot!

History repeats itself again.
Countless times our blood stains the streets,
And green grasses of our mothers loans
Either by our brothers or the neighbor claiming self-defense,
And angry mobs roam the streets
Nagging and weeping…
An temporary outbursts of cries for justice.

Even the law will chase and shoot you,
If you are found in front of the gun,
And decades of fight for equality resume from Zero,
Beginning at the starting line once more.
But if this is true, whatever the outcome,
Peace, justices, equality, revolution, freedom,
There is nothing to revive my existence
And wipe my mothers tears.

It’s just another reality of a race against the tide.
But whatever the outcome, if this is true,
Peace, justice, freedom, revolution,
I was chased and shot.Image