Goddess Freya in my Garden (24th hour)

Wondrous weeping willows wallow near my windows

Outstretched reaching out to me, inviting me to explore the outside festivities

Frogs are hopping about croaking loud and free

Crickets chirping their way through the grass

Little Sparrows singing songs of solace spring searching for food

The Spring sprinkles are quenching our natural thirst

For hydration, saturation and satiation

Leaving us with a rejuvenating vision of Mother Earth

This magical moment of the year is where all once dead

Rises back up again

The sun is just careful enough to brighten our days

Without scorching our souls

I am at my most happiest during these celestial stages

Then Mother moon appears meandering about my garden

Shining her moonbeams across the pavement, sending dancing shadows across the gray stones

Wrapping her bright stars around my waist lulling me to sleep

But the storm makes its way beating against my window panes

Its thunderous clasps are to remind me that she is energetic as she is soft

I open my windows to her clamors

I welcome her showers

I bathe my spirit in her streams

As the moon cloaks my inner bearings

I learn all of their secrets

I learn the mournful roars and rumbles

I now know what it is to endure

My Best Friend…My Husband (23rd hour)

There are many days I reflect upon our union

The memories of our first kiss still has me swooning

I wonder what magical manifestations were created on our behalf

What sort of divine intervention had to be choreographed?

Our love is that of a young and vibrant love, to this day I am in awe of you

Our love is beyond measure of anniversaries and material things

Everyday my heart swells with songs of you

Every night I do thank God, the heavenly bodies and anyone else who may have crafted our destinies to be united

I am fortunate that my soul mate lies by my side, day and night

We are blessed to have each other

Lucky that we found one another

To grow old together

Til our dying day

I regret nothing, I wouldn’t have it any other way

Olé Flamenco Dancer (22nd hour)

Carmen waits for the guitarist to strum and pluck

While the other dancers sit


Stomp in unison

The singer wails *con tanto pasion

Egging Carmen on

To slam her feet on the platform

As she raises her left hand in the air with her fan in her right hand

She struts her fan open and waves her arms about to the singer’s moans

Carmen thrusts her body to and fro

Spins from one corner to the other

Contorts her body into a modelesque stance

Her dress seems to be made of wind and flames

Twirling her skirt open like a rose

Whirling her hand and fan wildly around the air above her head

And in one final pitched cry

In one final strum

One final pluck

Final stomp

She gently but forcibly moves her arms back to her sides

Closing the rose to rest

And back up again

Beautifully frozen



*is spanish for “with lots of passion”


So Not Nocturnal (21st Hour)

I am not here

I am not there

At this point, my brain feels like it’s going no where

I’m too groggy to think

Too tired to care

I just want my bed and pillow

The hell with the end zone

My soul, however, wants something quite different

It screams let’s finish this, you dip shit

It bullies the brain with memories of never finishing what we started

The brain begins to cry, it is fainthearted

The soul pokes the brain and calls it a quitter

The bitter brain beats about

While the spritely spirit stomps and shout

Meanwhile, my body is full of caffeine rage

Muttering under its breath to all shut the fuck up and stay the hell awake


’90s Summers in Newark (20th hour)

Summer rooftops filled with Crazy Eights

Pick 2

Pick 4

Pick 4 more

Pick-up 32 because Shorty got swoll

Smacking back sunflower seeds

Spitting David up and out to the pavement

While Wu-Tang resonates in the background so effortlessly

Arizona Iced Teas

Laffy Taffys

Nerds Candy

Want to go some play some pool, now or later?

Mastering the arts of being quick witted by hiking on each other

Sparking up another game of pick-up 32 because Shorty be bugging

Obtaining the skills of crafty fast thinking by playing chess, always staying ahead of the game

Fuck checkers, that’s for punk asses

Yo Cuz, take that deck away from Shorty

Heading downstairs to the joint

Sweeping the floors

power on the jukebox, Redman comes on…”Time 4 Sumaksion”

Sneaking cigarettes and piss water downed beer

While we hustle some old ass perverts on the pool table

Jersey kids doing what they do best

Trying to pass the time without getting caught up

Because trouble round the block

And Shorty ain’t here no more

3am Reprieve (19th hour)

Full breakfast at three in the morning

To counterattack the sleepiness and yawning

When my stomachs is empty

That is when i get sleepy

Sizzling bacon, breaking the silence of the whole apartment complex

Makes me feel like I am doing something I should not have been

Noise ordinance for crackling pork?

That’ll be the first

The fried eggs will soon follow

Along with some dark roasted espresso

My brain waves are already swimming with energy

As my stomach rejoices with ecstasy

Delicious burnt bacon all just for me


Tea of Sarcasm(18th hour)

“Gather yourselves, ladies, prim and proper” Mrs. Havensham said, “with your powdered pearls protruding from your bosoms like so”

She continued, “Be certain to display your ivory white gloves, upon your intricate lil hands. For you see, Tea is high society and high socialites you shall be”

A voice rang out from the back, “How high?”

Mrs. Havensham was not pleased but continued on, “If a concerto is brought up in conversation be sure to mention how much you adore Mozart’s violins and or Bach’s organs”

“Like his insides”

“Don’t be ridiculous, not the internal kind, don’t be so crass. They wouldn’t like that. No woman should ever be so brass. High tea is serious business” She said with much composure “And you shall pursue it with illustrious gracefulness”

Pressing on, Mrs. Havensham sighed heavily and addressed the rest, “As you lift your cups and saucers to your lips, extend your pinkies out like this”

“Oh so we can pretend and put on the ritz”, the voice rang out teasingly

Red in the face, Mrs. Havensham approached the voice, “I would be remiss to say that your constant interruptions like today are liable to get you dismissed. And your etiquette lessons will wash away with your dreams of being a good wife. No man will ever want a woman who jokes about during tea time or sits around drinking wine and smoking cigarettes from time to time. Now sit up straight, legs crossed and keep quiet at all times.”

The woman raises her hand to Mrs. Havensham, “One last interruption, if I may. I believe a correction to your lessons needs to be made.”

“Such as what, exactly?”

“Such as, I do not wish to be put on Patriarchal display. Cluttered and tattered upon those shelves of double standards. Although, I speak my mind-I am quite polite to those who are deserving. It is my choosing if I want to wear white gloves and pearls and discuss the many overtures in Mozart’s Figaro. And I most certainly do not smoke cigarettes. Why, I bide my time by drinking wines of all kinds but what really gets my spirits going is a fine robust cigar with some bourbon or rye”

To Broodily go (17th Hour)

I want to lay my head on the grass and have mother envelope me

Grow above and over me

t Swallow me whole

My soul wants to stomp hard, barefoot on the ground

Breaking Earth letting my foot slip pass the turning core

While my roots

Slide through the dust and dirt

Searching for somewhere to be

Somewhere that use to be

Feeling inside out with an unbearable nakedness

My spirit is not here,

My spirit has gone to the future

Enjoying what would have been

Flashing back to what was

I’m not here

I’ve escaped to the wind

I’ve transported myself to somewhere you all have not touched

To where colors beyond your stretch exist

Gone from all of the worries

Gone from the uncertainties

Gone from the obvious hinderances

Gone from ever being bent, used, depleted

Gone from these things to brood in my splendor

Just for me

Only me

His Own Words (16th hour)

Never took a liking to or understood the term

But I knew well the purpose of its composition, to make others squirm


I must protest

My work was executed with fine precision

Every sling a premeditated decision

That no other would ever match

My art was, is beyond the measures of the past

I carefully cut those corroded cadavers

Only to have my craft be honed down to an unscrupulous mad hatter?

Who are they to dub me a flittering clipper?

I am far too slicker

To be a mere evening thriller

My hands never faltered as I sliced precisely right

Ha, let my craftsmanship speak for itself

For to this day, not one has yet

To forget

And figure

Who, from HELL, is Jack the Ripper?

The Goddess of Fresh Waters (15th hour)

Let me tell you the tale of my mother

Not the one who physically bore me

The one who the High Priest stated that hovers

Over me, protects me, lives through me

Known to Catholics as Our Lady of Charity

Best known to our Afro-Boriquen brothers and sisters as the

Goddess of fresh waters







She approaches her children walking through the rivers of many plights

Dancing in her yellow gold dress, adorned in peacock feathers

With tears of joy forming in her eyes

Sweet as honey she seduces love and compassion amongst all who call unto her

Brought over to our Puerto Rican people from across the African seas

Her Spanish name, a cover, La Caridad del Cobre

Her true name divine, la mas linda (the most beautiful), Oshun


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