Saturday, April 5, 2008


Our future was held in the palms of your hands

our tickets to discover amazing new lands.

It became apparent not long from the start

that a Love explorer didn't dwell in your heart.

The thrill of the journey, YOU -- did not excite.

The peaks of Love's mountains, lost in the valleys of fights.

Oceans became gulfs, separating our hearts;

their waters always choppy, keeping us apart.

On the rivers and streams of Love's wondrous world,

we never flowed smoothly but seemed to be hurled

from one bank to the other until broken and bruised

we emerged from Love's waters, barely surviving our cruise.

Love's deserts -- no fascination for you could provide.

Endless sand, drought, and thirst were all you derived.

Never seeing the potential of this fluid-deprived land,

you couldn't imagine the castles we could have built in the sand.

The light of Love's sun placed her kiss on your face,

but you ignored this gift that you could have embraced.

A gift so few get, you cursed as too soon,

but Love continued to try, and sent you her moon.

She provided soft light to follow you around

so you could see all the beauty Love had allowed to abound.

She rationed her light to display beauteous advantage

but a nod of appreciation you just never could manage.

But STILL Love maintained; her goals still not reached,

she had found a hurt heart, and she wanted to teach.

So Love gathered her strength and all of her might

because Love NEVER gives up when she knows she is right.

So Love continued to send her wonders your way

showing you more and more beauty with each passing day.

She sent flowers each morning and starlight at night

always anticipating your need to take flight.

Love showed her patience, her presence steadfast

Love wanted you to know she would not leave; she would last.

Love sent fragrance you could smell, and textures to feel

So you could easily recall Love's strong appeal.

Love came from above, below, and around

Love did ALL in her power, YOU, to surround.

Love decided to keep you in her warm embrace

And planned to take you to her special place.

Where you'd be enchanted by all of her charms

Love planned to encircle you in the warmth of her arms.

There, nothing could touch you but Love's protective hand

Which would be yours for the taking, no need for demand.

In return for all this, Love asks one small favor

that your heart just receive her and enjoy all her flavors.

Race up her mountains and know that the valleys below,

Hold their very own wonders, and don't hesitate to go

across Love's dry deserts where great things can be built

and sail Love's great oceans, and enjoy to the hilt

Love's rivers and streams which may toss you around

but somehow she places you back on firm ground.

Bask in Love's sun and play naked in her moon

understanding when one leaves the other returns soon.

Remember Love is kind, not boastful or proud

but don't make the mistake of thinking that Love won't get loud.

Because Love knows when she's right, and will stand, and WILL FIGHT

hanging on to what matters with all of her might.

Love is patient and forgiving and will not stand in your way

if you decide the best thing for you, is walking away.

Love and the wonders of her world are yours for the taking.

Love brings only honesty and has no time for faking.

Love can't be what she's not, but she comes with great power

that will be there for you always, every minute and hour.

Simply reach out to Love and yours she will be;

let Love into your life and set yourself free.

Regrets, there'll be some, and joys, so many more,

but you have to reach out and open Love's door.

With her tenacity and diligence, Love has found you at last.

Now let her soothe and heal the wounds of your past.

Love has finally found you, after a lifetime it seems;

so relax and just bask in the glow of love's beams

© Sharon J. All Rights Reserved 2008

Wednesday, April 2, 2008

Poor Thing.

It happens to other people
You say how sad
You say poor thing
But when it's you
It's something else,
It's everything.
It started with something minor,
went from there to something worse
The friends you loved
The thoughts you knew
Just disappeared
Felt so weird
Half blessing
Half cursed
It happens to other people
You say how sad
You say poor thing

Here's to April -> SAAM. This poem is about rape.

Tuesday, April 1, 2008

In Dreams

He hides himself from me
cloaked in disappointment
he wades in an out of my life
leaving scraps of him for me to follow

He adores me
but won't say, won't stay
won't compromise his way to be with me
He drifts, and yet sifts the better part of me

He loves me
the way i love him back
love that stands taller than any pine tree
love that blooms in the spring, and culminates in the fall
a love for all seasons, but not for all
for only a strong woman can endure his bitter wind
his indecision
his will to win
at all costs
not knowing the game
to lose at all costs
where noone's to blame and yet he needs me

from afar
in dreams
beneath the stars
in the middle of the night
when he can no longer rest
he visits me
he seeks me
this i can attest
and i am there waiting
almost salivating
for one touch
one tear
one hug
to be near
once he who needs me, but only in dreams.

Raising Awareness

Just about every woman I know has been sexually assaulted at some point in their life. While the attacker is often a stranger, more often than not, it's someone they know. Sometimes the attacker is a close relative or even a brother or a father. But make no mistake; women are not the only victims. Young boys are increasingly being victimized by friends and relatives. Please share this page with as many people you can. The people you least expect might be the ones who need to read this the most.

This is from my upcoming second book, “Twelve Steps” which is the sequel to “Lovers Anonymous”. The Character of Terry is introduced in chapter 11.

"A Casual Conversation"

The two-bedroom apartment we shared had come fully-furnished. To us everything spoke of quality and comfort, if not luxury. To the vast majority of people living in Haiti, even most middle-class people, our home was an example of the extreme disparity that polarized the impoverished island nation. Terry, my roommate, was something of an art collector and had managed to acquire some impressive pieces over the years. Fabrice had paid for most of it of course, but Terry didn’t like to talk about her ex.
It was a lazy Sunday afternoon and we sat in the living room doing what we did best; lounging in our underwear, chatting about happier times and exchanging memories of our misspent youth as the tropical breeze danced through the apartment. Though we were not intimately involved, we seemed a living picture of domestic tranquility; I with my mango smoothie and Terry with her rum and coke.
I don’t remember how we got on this new subject, but when Terry spoke she erased everything that had previously been said from my memory.
She was slouched on the loveseat in her mismatched bra and panties with her legs spread slightly apart, “I was raped once,” Terry said matter-of-factly.
“Oh my God,” I said sitting up, “what happened?”
Terry leaned back, extended her long white legs out in front of her, and folded her arms across her chest as she looked up at the ceiling. “I was about 19 and I was hitchhiking home after a night of drinking. This car stopped for me… They got me.” Terry let out a nervous giggle before continuing. “I knew better than to get in a car with 2 guys, but one of them laid low. By the time I saw him it was too late. He just jumped out and grabbed me.”
“Holy shit.” That was all I could say as I leaned forward on the couch.
“Yeah,” Terry started again in a calm voice, “they fucked me up pretty good. They took turns in the back seat. Good thing I was drunk or it probably woulda hurt more.” Another nervous giggle.
“Terry, I am so sorry.” I said softly, not sure what else to say.
Terry looked at me and smiled distantly, “oh it’s ok man, that was years ago.” She pulled her legs back and reached forward to get her rum and coke from the coffee table. After taking a slow sip she looked past me to a bare spot on the wall and spoke again. “I just wish they had left my boots on. I had just bought these brand new cowboy boots. But I was wearing a skirt. They could have ripped that off without taking my boots off.”
I tried to imagine Terry fighting for her life. “I bet you were trying to kick the shit out of them.”
Terry looked at me. “Nah man, these were some big guys, I didn’t stand a chance. When they were done they drove for a few miles then threw me out onto the side of the road and tossed my clothes out after me, but one of my boots stayed in the car.” Terry looked at the wall again with an annoyed look on her face. “I really liked those boots.”

For Me

Too busy to write
Is like too busy to breathe
Yet gasping for fleeting minutes
Til I had to hold my breath...
I mean I held my pen
But it exploded
Exposing my thoughts
My feelings and frustrations
Climaxing repeatedly
Onto the black fabric of my blog

Reading it leaves a stain
An indigo blotch
Nestled in my empty pocket
Turned inside out like my soul
Even after many washings
Resisting all attempts to make it clean
An ever-present reminder
From the neglected pen
That screamed out for attention
Thinking about it makes me want to cry

And tear drops fall like ink
Black rain on skin-colored paper
Like obscene tattoos of my visions
But this is more than skin deep
This is the reality of human waste
Mortals too blunted to be mortified
Too dead to be considered normal
Yet so much like me that I love them
The wretches no one cares about
Given life by the ink of my eyes

And what about the soundtrack
Should I share the stories of
Pride gone and self-esteem so low
Some pay cash for a chance to give blowjobs
To condescending self-important scumbags
Because it make them feel special
To feel hot sweaty palms on their heads
While being told they give the best head
That sucking sound is not their lips
It’s their souls being drawn from their flesh

But this is not about them
It’s about my selfish need to be selfless
It’s about my insatiable thirst
To drink the bitter dregs of pain
From every Jane Doe’s cup of misery
A gesture of goodwill to those I meet today
In memory of the ones who kept me warm
When my world was lonely and cold
It’s about wanting to make a difference
In the life of a fatherless child

Yet another fatherless child

Peace and Love,

Alizé (

PS: April is Sexual Assault Awareness Month (SAAM). I am PASSIONATE about this issue and I’m determined to do my part to help educate as many people as possible. Please join me in spreading the word. Sexual violence must stop!

Text and Photo: Copyright © 2008 Xavier Pierre Jr. All rights reserved.

Sunday, March 30, 2008

geese of love

geese of love


 geese of love

wing to wing

walking down

on grass

 like soulmates,

they walked

down together

holding wings

as they shapes their shadows

into a big heart

 they swing their beating big heart

in the blue skies

turning into a white clouded heart

as it pours down rain

 while after rain,

rainbow shone

sunny kisses their golden hazy eyes

 like stars,

geese of love

they made a twinkle

a song in the night

 opening their mouth

and makes peaceful sounds of

their  lives

within sweetest wishes grooving

through the light warm winds

into God's ear

He hears them through the breath

of Him

through beautiful echoings 

all through mingling sad voices

He hears them

singing to the grey moon

brown wings flapped

and wandering off

strolling down the ground

where they keep

their heart in the sky

 oh the geese of love,

He hears them

 peaceful songs

nightingale chirps

all through His words


check this out

 © Kai C. 2008

Decade (Or Ten Years More of Knowing)

The thin skin of your passion
is at times impenetrable.
The pricks and prods become
me and are now my fashion.

And in the closet of your thoughts
bruises and burns leave you wild and spent.
I sit and wait for you to see
what your being for me has wrought.

You think apart and deconstruct your “us”
while I live and breathe it quietly, out loud.
If you think “us” away then all will be well,
save the shredded souls running with puss.

What then when I know what you do (will) not?
That the links that bind us will tighten and cut.
That the taste and scent will sharpen and beckon.
That all this time you have needed what you have fought.

T.S.Snowden (March 2008)