Lightworkers ~ 

Open your eyes, reach out your hand
Let your mind travel freely
savor, inhale the scenery before 
it all fades to black…
Now is the time to live.

Embrace obstacles tangible, 
face roadblocks, toxic memories
imbedded deep within body & soul – 
These anti-life hacks intervene, intend
to drain you dry of all emotion, until
expressionless, your character morphs
stonefaced & catatonic.

Fear not, as vivid flashes come & go
appearing with purpose, unpredictable, sans warning – albeit startling, these sources of light bring energy, a powerful conduit meant to awaken the senses.

Whether jolted by electric zaps or
aroused by subtle taps, each message potent, meant to be felt, understood
shared with others who exist, yet
remain blind to life and the light.

Lightworkers are muses; ethereal angels,
beautiful creatures who take flighty risks –
Their mission, to infuse lost souls with animated livelihood & purpose – 
Their existence, designed as unobtrusive guides & temporary life support.

Life begins…
it evolves & eventually, it ends 
without agenda, itinerary, or user manual – 
Treasure the moments…
Adapt to change & give of yourself
live well before it passes…
in a flash.💫

Poetry by MPP 1/26/17
Image via

Unity ~ a poem dedicated with love to the U.K.

Today is Sunday, June 4th, 2017.  Before I climbed out of bed this morning, I turned on the television.  As all the news channels were diligently focused, reporting about the latest in a series of recent terror events which occurred in & around England – the U.K. Almost immediately, I remembered a short poem I had written & submitted in 2012 to a poetry competition with Forward Poetry, a U.K. based publishing company.  The theme was to write something pertaining to London & the Summer Olympics that year.  Several weeks later, I received the exciting news I was a winner & my poem was going to be featured their a book of poetry collections titled, The Summer of Sport.  This was my FIRST published piece of work…and it was published in the United Kingdom.  I am forever grateful, therefore I felt it appropriate, necessary even, to re-post this poem about UNITY.

Unity-Union Jack

Sacred, pure colors, the ideal texture
Union Jack illuminated, prideful appreciation.
Tangible peace felt throughout world-wide networks
Celebrated, agreed to by all mankind…
For awhile.

Colossal strength, poise, dedicated work
Prove their privilege, their deserved honor.
Nations entwined as one, gracious and grateful
These guests of London, determined to represent…
The world.

Athletic battle amongst countries joyously received
Applauded and embraced, camaraderie, not enemies. Continue reading “Unity ~ a poem dedicated with love to the U.K.”


The perfect hue found in shades of
Blue – beauty which inspires
Feelings defined like no other 
Just a color, yet oh…so much more –

Cobalt, my personal favorite
A close second & organic in nature
Is the aquamarine pallet found in 
Caribbean waters clear –

Such is the conundrum how 
A color can both soothe & depress –
To quote the lyrics of Sir Elton John
“I guess that’s why they call it
The blues.”

Art by Eletragesi: Blue Rose

When It’s Time…

When the love dies
there’s this miasma which burns
from a broken heart – 
The grief manifests itself in many
forms & fashions unbecoming, yet
all the while, the ghost hovers…
haunting us day & night, our every move like a ligature bound tight with a mighty grip – 

At first we live crippled in the various
stages of psychological babble, yet in fact, our existence is numb, lost in limbo we accept this purgatory before the next transition as wounds begin to fester, bleed, & eventually begin to scab over.

However, I can take things a step further…
Deeper I fall & down the rabbit hole I go –

I lick my wounds and ponder…ruminate
searching for answers
over & over, 
a vicious cycle –
WHERE does the love go to die?

I allow myself a ridiculous amount
of time to wallow in this
silent triage, embraced by the delicious melancholy & 
exquisite torture I so desire –
In darkness I pick at the already picked over scabs, then whether it be from shear exhaustion or the sounds of solace I discover in the silence
I can sleep.

With a start, I’m awakened at daybreak from this “love death coma”
aphonia afflicted & drunk from sleep
I feel somewhat bound
and gagged by a strange lump
stuck in my craw – bitter & sour, its taste reminds me of spoiled milk – 

I’m rendered to tears as I attempt
to rid this toxin – choking, coughing up years of self-inflicted memories, manipulation, past lives, & broken promises – 

I’m left breathless & struggle to
come up for air, yet this is the time…this is my time to exorcise the ghosts – time to purge, cleanse, & live open to possibility & opportunity to love again.



He wanted her
So he took her – willingly
She gave herself to him fully
Blind, deaf, & dumb –  ignorant to
Warnings, she denied him nothing 
Since that fateful day she held out
Her hand & fed the paper tiger
Setting the precedence, manipulated
By the game he knew how to play
All too well.

In time, life choices prove detriment
Fueled to inflict pain & chaos,
He did as he pleased, while she bore
Shackles, a prisoner of domestic war
Morphed into a shell of someone else
Morphed into existence non-human.

She was his, but not to love
She was property, to be used
Bruised, squeezed, eaten alive
He feasted on her skin, flesh, & core
Masticating each bit, he left behind
Only seeds, picked out from the soul
The passion fruit core, eventually
Even the seeds he chewed & spit out.

With belly full, his expressionless eyes
Scan the quiet aftermath
Methodically, as if in familiarity,
He gathered used, sticky utensils,
Leftover scraps & debris tossed 
Into the sink – then, just as the whir of
The garbage disposal filled the air &
Began to inhale refuse, he peered in…
As if to make sure all was cleansed, 
Free from DNA contamination, free
from all tangible existence, free…
From her, he finally exits the room
Satisfied, sans remorse, yet he is sadly
Mistaken…& far from ever being free.

Oblivious to spiritual life force,
A life source beholden of the core
Ingested earlier – her core – her life
Ethereal in every purpose & justified
Her truth reborn in karmic fashion 
Navigates his path of mortality as
Appropriately deemed, tis painful –
The truth hurts, so now it’s her turn
To force regurgitation guttural core
This, her payback – ultimate vendetta.

She wanted him
So she took him – as karma dictated
She gripped hard, unbeknownst to him
She owned him til the end, conquered 
Her soul reclaimed in spirit, validated
An existence fruitful, now can rest.