Key Lime Pie

Key Lime Pie
from XX
By Nabil Abou Baker
3/28/10

It was mid-summer and we decided to
Drive down south for a change. There
Exists a light house, erect, but out of
Commission. The white pillar used to
Deter those from the dangers of shore,
Jagged rocks that could sink life.
I had a friend, Ernie, that lived just
North of the beacon. We rendezvoused
With him, as he was the man of the town.
He knew all the best places to go eat, drink,
But most of all fish. Ernie loved fishing.
Ernie took us to a local near by pie shop.
All they sold were pies, but not just any pie,
Only key lime pie. Mary and I had each
Purchased a pie. They were inexpensive,
Two dollars a piece. I had given the
Clerk, a boy about seventeen years old
With some acne on his left cheek, five
Dollars and placed the change in a cup
Marked, “tips.” Ernie did not want a
Key lime pie; he just enjoyed our
Company and wanted to catch up
With us. The three of us sat at a table,
Ernie to my right and Mary in front of
Me. She handed me a fork and my key
Lime pie topped with meringue. Mary’s
Had a whipped cream topping. She was
Not a fan of meringues. I took the fork
And cut right into the triangular
Key lime pie topped with meringue. The
Meringue had a white center with light bark
Tinted exterior and was crunchy upon penetration
With my fork, which then slide right through.
It was very pale, green-yellow, the color of
The sun blended with healthy southern
Grass. Her eyes met mine just as I
Was going to bite into the key lime
Pie topped with meringue. I grabbed
Her left hand, with my left hand, and
I placed the first piece of key lime pie
Topped with meringue into my mouth, as did she.

Kiera the Knight

Kiera the Knight
from XX
By Nabil Abou Baker
6/14/2010

Kiera the Knight
Was of Arthur’s Knights,
But she was hidden from sight
For she was the only female knight,
And knowing would lead to the kingdom’s blight.

She guarded him in any fight
For she had enormous might
And courage, a true round table knight,
But on the dreary night
When Arthur found out the height
Of Gwenevere’s affair with a knight,
He ordered Kiera to end her light.

Kiera did not agree with his order despite
He was king. She wanted things to be right
Not the execution of a queen in a few nights.
Arthur assured her everything would be all right
And that this service can ignite
A new flame in his life’s light.

On the full moon’s night,
Kiera was invited to visit the white
Queen. “Gwenevere thank you for this invite
To your chamber, I promise to be polite,
But unfortunately that might
Not be the case. I must recite
That the king knows quite
Well of your time with Lancelot the Knight
And today will be your last night.”

Kiera pulled out her light
Dagger from its brown leather tight
Scabbard. She charged and stabbed with all her might.
Gwenevere did not even try to put up a fight.
It was her fate, out of Arthur’s spite.
“Gwenevere, you do not deserve to live tonight
For committing adultery with a knight.
The king—dom is mine.” Whispered Kiera the Knight.

Leaves of Trees

Leaves of Trees
from The Natural Chronicles
By Nabil Abou Baker
6/9/2010

Walt Whitman’s innocent white ‘merica
Is done—or never was. Coming in fall
Is the fall of the leaves from tall fauna.
Those leaves will changes owners to stature—small—
Green glowing southern thick grass. The leaves leave
Their green life behind and become colors
Of a new soulful spectrum. But men heave
The fallen leaves from the grass, together.
Men throw the yellowed leaves into bags far
From the now lonely grass. The same grass plant
Responsible for oxygen in our
Not so green and blue earth. But the world can’t
Continue on this one destructive stave
Because man has ‘come the slave of the slave.

Black

Black
from Colors
By Nabil Abou Baker
5/17/2010

My Soul has been taken like Dorian
Gray, but his was traded for beauty.
What I received in return – agony.
Gray had the painting and I, my fallen
Heart – morning your ostentatious ocean
Eyes, the ones that escape nearly – earthly
Time. Unfortunately, they lack mercy.
I’m left like the portrait – isolated.

Though arguably Dorian’s portrait
Existence may have corrupted his fate,
I am torn wondering whether or not
You are Dorian or the portrait. Caught –
Or better lost in what has come. This world
Is just filled with shades of Dorian’s Gray – Black.

A Letter from the Past

A Letter from the Past
from Paperless Poetry
By Nabil Abou Baker
8/21/2010

The house burns down to the ground
Finalizing a permanent transition into ashes.
Ashes, the road taken but I enter the
Home of ashes now re-imagining blurbs
Of the past in the present. Blurbs, redefining
People’s history and watching how the
Fire evolved or devolved those still
Present from the beginning. Interesting
How the experience with drug, alchohol,
Love, lust, violence, religion, politics, sex,
Education or the lack there of and general
Adversity can build a new complex being
Or test on to the very core, nearly destroying
Everything flesh deep. Unfortunately, for
The children of the home not all could
Or can or will survive the flames of
The great fire that burned the house.

Black and Blue

Black and Blue
from Colors
By Nabil Abou Baker
5/21/2010

I will not wait for the wound to heal.
A hemorrhaging-scar undergoing
The most intricate cascade of
Coagulation factors known.

For no set of factors, elements,
Molecules can heal this injury

But don’t you worry its
Just a bruise, just a bruise.

Red (II)

Red (II)
from Colors
By Nabil Abou Baker
2/15/2010

Raging, erotic death.
I am hopelessly lost
By all your meaning. Doubt
Fills all assumptions of
You and your ways, bloody
Devilish skin color,
That of communism or
Republicans, evil
Sins and hell. Halt! Stop! End!
This hated torn fire of
Anger, leaving me lost
Hopelessly for the “truth”
Or great lie of the heart,
A Shakespearean love.