I am not her
this
we both know
not yet
or not ever
I do wonder
sometimes
who she might be
as I also have
a few good ideas
about him
Then I cry
and I worry
considerably
because you are not him
and I am not her
in this oddity
even though
we could be
And I am so afraid
of losing you
to them
Copyright©2022 by Camille Caliscia Patrick
The clouds are grey today
And the wind is silent
I can still see over the tree tops
In the distance
Across the valley
Where the birds have ceased
To chirp
To the symphony of leaves
rustling
Peddals move at 50 km an hour
That of humans hustling
And alas
The long awaited
soaks my clay
and rocks
Ahhhhhhh
What-a-day!
The vapor rises
Ahhhhhhhhhh
It feels so good
these huge drops
of refreshing
condensate
The thunder
rhythms
Like it should
So bold
So loud
So boastful
A flash of lightening
Here and there
To colour the drear
And make the stage
A perfect set
Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh
I am completely wet
For this maiden role
As this maiden rolls
building momentum
Spurred on by a rush
of wind
A gush
of water
To finally take up
Her place on this street
Making it impassable
So
To be birthed again
Copyright©2022 by Camille Caliscia Patrick
Silence as deafening as noise
Light as blinding as darkness
Knowledge as low valued
As the unknown
Friends that weigh the same as enemies
Joy as crippling as sorrow
Yesterday just like tomorrow
Copyright©2022 by Camille Caliscia Patrick
Who thought that a bag of sugar could be so heavy?
Certainly not me!
Is it soaked with water
Do the crystals stick together?
Under this weight I cannot see!
Walking through life
My eyes embrace the ground
And now my Sugar is wet
And weighing my shoulders down
The universe must think that I am strong
Who thought that a bag of Sugar, could be so heavy?
Copyright©2022 by Camille Caliscia Patrick
It is easy to talk
when you are barefoot
standing there
looking over the fence
a comfortable distance away
enjoying
your uninterrupted day
sure,
You must have a lot to say!
But what would you do
if for just 1 minute
you were standing there
in my shoe?
Copyright©2022 by Camille Caliscia Patrick
There is a finer human fabric
that covers human errors
the same way red carpets
cover broken runways
So that the lighter things in life can
sport their weight
and fascinate
mixed crowds
They
All dressed in tailored styles
at times contrary to personal taste
so that designer's dreams
Can take its rightful place
A textile matter
which saves a friendship
or an enemy
by extending just enough yarn
to hold a troubled heart in place
and keep it beating
Copyright©2022 by Camille Caliscia Patrick
When I think of you
Every other thought
Stands at attention
To applaud, loathe or envy
The entrance
Of my imagination
Sweetie,
There are absolutely
no distractions
When I think of you
When I think of you
Other thoughts bow
In acknowledgment
Utterly incapable of ambushments
Those simpletons plead for mercy
Or try to rudely
awake memory
When I think of you
When I think of you
Strolling through
Each avenue
Of my mind
Or finding just
the right position to recline
Life’s aspirations
Stare in queue
Clueless as to if their turn
Will ever come,
My Sweetie
When I think of you
Copyright©2022 by Camille Caliscia Patrick
In Haiti,
they make themselves mud cakes
And it is easier to record the process
than it is to embrace their truth
We too eat dirt
after a good fast
In prayerful agreement
As we bow our knees to gossip
Prostrate to judgements
And easily embrace lies
Isn't dirt sweeter than the truth?
A pregnancy craven for some
Yet for others
Prenatal care for the devils they carry
Breathtaking sins against those
Who have done them no wrong
Anemia demands dirt
Blood condition
The condition of the blood
And so too does low
Spiritual beings
Full of titles
The basest of creatures
Fattened by gossip
Exercised by judgments
Dirt eaters!
Undesirable of the truth
Perverted thinkers
Willing to overlook
You
For a twisted thought
That drags you down to their level
Ground-level
Dirt eating, devils!
There is no water in their dirt
To dilute the poison
To save the dog
Ma of their conscience
No word of truth
To save them from their devils!
They love their dirt dry
and eat it without question
Dirt eaters love lies
Like their father
"...and you shall eat dust all the days of your lives..."
That is scripture!
For the crawlers
Who will bathe themselves in hell
FIRE!
Fully fasted
and
Believing...
Uncured Pica
Isn't dirt sweeter
than the truth?
Copyright©2022 by Camille Caliscia Patrick
