The Calling of Her Savior

She was young when she started. The premature virgin turned to over sexed hoe…yet she was too young. She partied every night in search of completion and a savior. So when she got a man who endured around she thought he was her world. She couldn't see a flaw in his, thuggish ways, until he began to say, "If you love me".

It started off with, "if you love me, you’ll buy me those jays", "if you love me, you’ll stay the night", "if you love me, you’ll kill for me", "if you love me, you’ll go on your knees for me" if you love me you’ll get on your knees...for my boy; and then maybe his boy”, "if you love me, you’ll stand here on this corner for a night". And he? He was supposed to be her...savior. But now she walks the streets and when she comes home 100 dollars short he beats her. The man that used to heal now causes the pain, but she can no longer cry because her eyes have bled before and now she is used to having the scrapes and bruises. She is used to being used and abused and her comfort comes not from the repetition but the constant incisions on her skin. From that blade crossing her arm or the needle giving an instant...release. So when she saw a package from “Family” she knew it wouldn't be a razor or a bag of that fine white so she threw it in the trash. But that night as she struck a vain for the last time and sat in the puddle of her blood she saw the package. With the last strength of her leaking weak arms she opened it and found that book. She flipped to a page and the only thing she remembered was a name before she blacked out. 

When she woke up she couldn't see but could hear the constant beating of the monitor...and feel someone holding her hand. Fading back in and out to that beep and that hand, but when she found the strength to open her eyes she realized that hand wasn't her mans...but it was that book. Doctor came in and whispered, "Welcome back to life". She asked, "How did I get here, and with this book?" Doc said, "Cops got a tip from a man that you would be dead in the room. When the EMTs arrived they thought you were gone, until they tried to take the book out of your hand. It scared them half to death. And through 4 crash-cards you never let it go."

When she was released she still held the book because he never came to see her. Not a visit or card, he never came. And when she came close to what she thought to be home he....was with her. The man she called love was with another, and put her above her. And as she walked away she had no idea where to go, she no longer had a savior or place to call home. The only other place she ever remembered by heart was no longer hers. But she didn’t have a choice. So she went to the address from the package. And when she got in front of her grandmother house she cried. She sat at the door too afraid to ring the bell and cried. She cried her eyes dry. And a tears… fell on the book. She opened to that page still highlighted by blood and that name. Out of her tear drop glasses she could see that name. That ever so faithful name....Jesus.

She felt a soft touch on her back and looked up to see her grandma. Her grandmother said, "He will never leave you or forsake you, and I knew....he was the only one who could save you. He can heal pain because he too was beaten and maimed and you can put it all...on him. He is life and love...and he doesn't fade." she stood and embraced her grandma soo tight...still crying.

"I’ll help you find my savior child...welcome home"

-Moises Seraphin

Flashes of the Night

“The words of an impaired poet…”

Out of the darkness. The flashes light up the sky. The silence of the night is interrupted by the speed of fast cars and…heels. The light taps of stilettos hitting the pavement from the flashy girls who pray the night to last forever. And yet in this moment I hear neither. I hear nothing. But I feel the bass of the Dj playing this song for the 100^th time.

And through the flashes of the club lights you see me….and her. She’s beautiful. Miss pink and lovely. My lips constantly touching hers . Holding her with a firm grip. Promising to never let go. 

Even when I stand to dance she joins, to compliment the beats and aid in this lonely moment.

Because she is a bottle. And her company never fails to entertain. Amplifying the flashes of the night. Making this moment last forever.

I thank her for curing me of my ridiculous obsession with… hopes and dreams. Later I will remember how I drank her. And it seems while under her bind the lights are brighter, and I am delighted by her company…until the morning.  

I am a captive of her taste, yet desolate as space and drinking her to the base. Shackled still and fighting with all might, yet feeling and feigning a drinks delight. Enlightened by the sights, and enchanted by the flashes of the night.

-Moises Seraphin

This Song

It seems this song reflects on vivid dreams. Dancing on memories of a past unseen by the eyes of none but they who were present. Can you feel the piano? Touching the keys brings back the fame and pains of experiences that remain forever frozen in time. Nights which last forever.

Not figuratively but in theory. Because I will forever replay the memories of those nights and will never forget the moments of...perfection. So though the nights have faded to be dates of the distant past, in theory they will… last forever.

In my mind of course.

And this song...Walks back on that sand. This song fly’s to never land. This song shows an image of you, them or us as we stand...in my dreams. Still captivated by the bliss of a subtle kiss or bathing ourselves in this joyful tune. Inhaling the melody and exhaling the chorus, yet being blinded by its ecstasy and praying this dream to be for us, and if not keeping its memory to never be changed and forever remain the same.

Singing this tune to the heavens above, knowing its notes are filled with nothing but love. And the speakers are loud enough to send it to the deep dark dens, to be sung by young women and men, only with the expectation or hope that this song…this precious soulful song…will never end.

-Moises Seraphin

Dear Love

“If I ever talked to love, the conversation...would go like this”

Dear...Love,

Its been a while. A long while.

 Love…where have you been. I realize now that you've been used and abused. When people say your name many of them have no idea who you are. Or the effect you bring. They use your name in vain because they haven't ever felt your presence. They haven't endured the peaks and lows of the journeys we've taken. Or the relationship we've had.

But Love I won't forget the pain you caused. I won't forget the nights of agony and tears. But out of our hard times I won't forget you. Because Love you had me screaming dreaming, feening and searching for the meaning of your name. And out of it I didn’t get anything but a reverse sign. Love you told me to go all the way the fuck back to square one. Not passing go, not 3 steps back, but back to where I began. And I was frustrated and angry at the dumb stuff you did because I knew it wasn’t you. Love you used to take care, share and stare into my eyes. You used to heal the maimed pain you caused but now you’re gone. You've drifted away once again. 

I want to get to know you again Love. From the beginning. From…Hello. I want to start back at those cheap super sized dates, and debates of who misses who more Love. Back to you telling me your name and having it skip through my mind all day on the squares of possibility.

There's so much I want to tell you Love but I'm afraid of the pain you used to cause. And everyone put you in the fairy tale category with Santa Clause and the Easter Bunny, so when I told them what you did… They said you weren't real. They said you were a figment of my imagination. And a letter to you would be thrown into all that North Pole mail… But what they don’t know is Love you are more than a person with a home address or cell phone, you are an emotion. A life altering experience that doesn’t lie like Redbull’s false wings, but helps us fly to the peaks of the sky, and though we fall, we have risen to the greatest sensation. And if we die, it will be from our journey of you; be it in peace or sorrow it will be from you…Love.

I know your busy skipping from heart to heart so I’ll leave you with this letter. And if you ever find a worthy heart and being to reveal yourself to me again...just know that I’ll be here. Patient. Patiently waiting to see you again.

Signed,

A Believer

-Moises Seraphin 

Freedom Freedom Freedom

“They told us we were free……. from the other side of our steel bars”

Freedom as a philosophical concept may refer to:

• Free will, the ability to choose one's own destiny, that one's actions are not pre-determined
• Liberty, the ideological concept of having the right and ability to do as one chooses

They tell us to find freedom. Or to be free. They say that hope is what drives the pursuit of happiness. And freedom is the key to open that happy door. Without freedom we are bound with shackles and held down. Without freedom we are trapped in our own minds bearing the thoughts of, “Whats it like to be free?” And free would be a commercial followed by credit report dot com, and it would be us pleading for release.

Freedom Freedom Freedom

But what do you do when freedom only brings pain. What is done when freedom equals war, freedom equals death, freedom equals blood and not peace. And they wonder why we fight. They wonder why our eyes are cold and our glance shows no fear. It is because we are the youth. With keen memories of a past of oppression and pain.

Freedom Freedom Freedom

They took me and my son to a camp. They had their swords and bayonets, and said it was for our own good. They said they were…. freeing us. But that night we heard the cries of our neighbors. We heard the soft steps of someone running followed by a loud bang and silence. We heard the silence broken with a family screaming and crying only to be silenced with another round of shots…  How am I to know that we aren’t next. And if we survive what do I tell my son?

Freedom Freedom Freedom

At 7 months. I went out alone out night. To get a small meal. Something to stop either them from kicking or my stomach to from growling. And I knew I shouldn’t have been out there but I was. So when the patrol stopped me I was terrified. I began to cry as they said, “Come here”. “Come here.” When I got close enough they began to beat me. They began to kick me in my stomach, and the pain hurt more than my hunger. And after what seemed forever they stopped and spit on me. As they walked away they yelled, “It was a free abortion to stop us from creating soldiers for them to kill”…..Only one of my twins survived.

Freedom Freedom Freedom

I was there. Looking though the blinds out to the street where my  brother stood. My brother was walking back from a football game at the park. He was still holding the trophy of a leather skin ball and torn jeans. My big brother was stopped by one of you and out of his fear for the things you’ve done he ran. He made the biggest mistake of his life and he ran. He did something his ancestors have done for centuries in the sight of fear or trouble and he ran. He ran to his only sanctuary and the only place he thought he would be safe. He ran home.

But by the time he got here the one cop turned into what seemed thousands with helicopters and blinding lights. All bearing two handed guns.

He saw me. I know he did…looked right into my eyes.

 He turned around to face his enemy, still holding his leather trophy to his chest. But by now he was sweating and crying so when they screamed, “Hands up” he hesitated.

I stared at Big brother out the blinds, wondering what he’s done. Or if he will come back inside and turn off those blinding lights.

It wasn’t until the second chant….He raised his hands and trophy in the air. But they thought his trophy was something else and they yelled “Gun”, they sprayed him with a rain of pain, and after what seemed an eternity of ear blistering noise everything settled to a thick cloud of gunpowder.

And I…..saw it all. I watched as he fell to the ground and momentarily interrupted the silence with a thump. His final breaths…….were blood and smoke.

Freedom Freedom Freedom

They hurt us to make us fear them. They tell us we will be freed from our pains. They come around handing out their freedom  freedom freedom in these pretty bow packages and we flock to them to attain a piece of what we think to be perfection. We run to get a piece of the dream and as Gil Scott-Heron said we aren’t running to get freedom we are running to get the rapist known as Free-Doom. And as the elders either fell or became scarred us youth learned, and as we grew and matured and our keen memories bore the pain and hurt as we aged. Because he told his son what happened, and she told her daughter why she doesn’t have a sister and he remembers what his brother looked like. And they wonder why we stare at them with rage and anger. Because his ears still remember the cries and gun shots. Her body still bears the pain of a premature beating. His eyes are flamed and the color of his brothers blood. And now when they come by with that freedom freedom freedom we stand cold with hatred in our hearts saying fuck your free and you can take some of our doom. Because we have heard, felt and seen what your freedom  freedom freedom brings and we will give you a little of our own and we call it a piece, and its bullets are just as big as yours and as you fall to the ground and become free you will pray you kept your damn freedom to yourselves.

-Moises Seraphin

Autumn Red

Watching…. Steadily watching as it falls from branch only to be lost in the swirl of a crisp breeze. Dancing in the wind for what seems an eternity. Until it hits the ground and joins the thousand that cannot match its beauty. Only to be whipped up again with a slight flick of wind.

It’s perfect. And its perfection is rivaled only by a perfect sunset on the seas, or the moon setting on the ocean. Only to be compared to beauty in the red dress.

Watching each gram of tangible perfection fall is like listening to Fire and Desire for the first time. As if the wind is taking my breath away. And the flames are streaming and screaming from the trees.

Yet only the few. Some of the flames aren’t as bright as the others…amongst the thousands there’s always that one red. The red I see I her lips. The red of blood, love and dry tears. A red more powerful than any Crayola creation.

And it hurts to watch them try and clean up beauty. The blowers and rakes that destroy an image as powerful as the late Paul Williams rendition of “For Once in my Life”…. But I am powerless. Because if it’s not the gardener it’s the breeze, and either way the job is done and the perfection isn’t eternal.

But I can save atleast one. Place it in a book and pray it forever remains the same. The rest will remain in my memories.

Using each red, orange, and yellow leaf to place a picture to the emotion that burns within.

-Moises Seraphin

The Love Experience: First Impressions

“I miss you. Not the girl you are now, but the lover you used to be.” ....

.. ..

Her name was…….Her name was…..well I don’t really remember her name but she was fine, divine, and in our first encounter I wanted her to be mine. And if not mine, then praying she would just give me a time….of day. Because, “I’m not trying to pressure you just can’t stop thinking about you. You don’t even really gotta be my”….girlfriend, my girl, my world or even a significant other. Just text me if my name ever crosses your mind, or even just take the time to say… “Hey, how you doin”. Because, “I just want to know your name and maybe sometimes we could hook up, hang out and just chill”...because you are real and I swear you look a lot better than you did in my dreams.

You may ask…what drives my infatuation. What keeps my mind fixed on…her. Because “she walks by me every day, girl in love all the same, woman that’s stolen my heart and beauty is her”…. Beauttty. Yes beauty was her name, not to be mistaken with Judy, even though as she walks a way I stare uncontrollably at her…..

But don’t mistake my intentions for lust. I’m a lover and all I pray to do is breathe. Because “it would be like, when hearts beat as one, it would feel like no ordinary kiss, you and I, now close your eyes, picture us breathing life.”…… (inhale) (exhale) If my arrows are fired in vein at least continue to take my breath away. From touch, sight, and the occasional fantasized kiss.

And if you haven’t….if you never….. I’d ask, “Miss blink twice if you’re a virgin”. Not to the physical, but the emotional experience that joy thrives on.  Because I can do better than make love to you. My love is as you, it’s a dime and one of a kind.  And there’s nothing in the heavens above, above love. The experience is a journey like no other. Il be here praying for you to “Say yes”. And beauty when your ready to begin the ride just let me know.

All you need is a black dress, heels and lipstick….

to prepare yourself…for the love experience.

-Moises Seraphin