Now I laugh…..

Now I laugh..


“Echoes of silence,becomes music that amuse me in these parks,bitter-sweet,but at last i can laugh,at the clown who made me  disappear in his hat,

I  laugh at myself for taking too long to play the strings   that life’s lessons forced me to learn.

For  I fell for the last card in the pack

The  joker”

Laurna Guiste


His Hip-Hop (Life in the Streets)

His Hip-Hop (Life in the Streets)

They don’t know what it feels like to be born in these streets, no meal to eat, no shoes on your feet,

No one to hold you near, and say they understand,

Living in the streets where a boy is forced to walk and act like a man,

I don’t expect you to understand,

Selling drugs to survive this thing called life, instead of a notebook, going school with a knife,

Hustling just to make ends meet, working a job that I hate, seeing nothing but dust and pavements, getting

wasted,underachieving,this can’t be my fate,

Pipes smoked up dreams, pipe lines,rhheasing nursery rhymes,tryna make life fun and funny, sleeping around, but life
in the streets is not for everyone, it sure aint sunny,

The gangs we make, the smiles we fake, it’s all a sad reality, and we can’t wait to wake,

Life in the streets, no love, no home, no one seem able to pop the rims off our closed up dreams, visions seemed
deemed, but we know one who is able,

pops called him the man upstairs,

Regardless I thank God one day I’ll rise from these fears, (the streets)

Written by Laurna Guiste

Dedicated to the youths on the streets who got dreams and talents, don’t give up, keep on dreaming, God is good and I pray one day sooner than you think your answers will come.

Work Hard towar…

Work Hard towards your goals


When God opens a door for you,sometimes there are hallways that  you have to pass through in order to get there,some may be slippery:Pause:instead of starting to complain,worry and quit even before starting,wondering how you are going to get there,first thank God for taking you thus far,thank Him for answering your prayer.Then roll up your sleeves its time to get to work,your faith has presented the opportunity you now need to pray more,be bolder and work harder,there is a saying God help those who help themselves,faith without works is dead.Get off your butt and work hard towards your goals#smile

Laurna Guiste

Still smile

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Days when the summer breeze just seems too cold, not enough to hold you warm in its grip,

Still smile,

When the leaves seem to hold your pretty feet back when you try to run from life’s aches

Still smile,

When the water don’t seem to refresh or quench your thirst, but lives you parched and yearning.

Still smile,

When the fire doesn’t seem to cleanse, but burns,

Still smile,

When words become name tags that want to remain permanent,

Still smile, because you know it’s just for a while,

When all forces seem against you, know that God is still fighting for you,

Fiercely loves you,:)

Just smile

Written by Laurna Guiste




I may seem a bit infuriating to be writing about pedophiles as much, for the topic I know is rather disturbing but has to be address nonetheless. In the process of finishing up my poem “Lost in the house of a friend” it came to my attention that a 50(fifty) year old police officer was arrested on the counts of raping and or molesting two young girls ages 9 and 12. I just couldn’t begin to evaluate the amount of stress and turmoil those kids were going through or will go through. I heard that the molester was found out when one of the girls was found with puss on the inside of them!

That was the most repulsive thing I could have heard today, a grown man forcing himself into a child, ripping and damaging her insides, possibly destroying the walls of her uterus and ruining all possible changes of her having a child of her own? Not forgetting the psychological, emotional, social and other physical effects. To add salt to injury the molester is a police officer for peace sake, a man who knows the law. Just shows truth to the statement don’t trust anyone. It baffles me how one can molest a child, what possibly drives one to commit such a gruesome, malevolent act? What goes on in the mind of one to convince them to go through this without feelings of remorse, guilt, shame, and pity and mare disgust with themselves?

Child abuse damages a child psychologically, damaging their self-worth, leading them to become sexually active, inducing them to child prostitution, suicide, Misandry and far worst becoming child molesters themselves.

The emotional scars run the bluest wound, reeking   of the past, unkindled rage, emotional outburst, tantrums, relationship failures, family problems and the list goes on.

Not forgetting the social stigma of being seen as abused, misused, handled, tarnished, the crown of dignity brushed to the side, or broken off one’s head.

The death penalty should be the reward of one who commits this act, they should be made examples of. They should’nt be hiddened or kept a secret.

However, there really is no penalty they could serve to act as remedy to the children who are the  broken vessels.  Only with the hand can God can justice prevail!

Written by Laurna Guiste

Love More,Give …

Love More,Give More


Today Presents a new chapter to be better than you were yesterday,to try harder,to improve and learn from past mistakes. Many have gone and i bet they wished they did alot of things differently.Love more,give more though it gets harder to do in this day and age,but your blessing will return to you double”

Laurna Guiste

Lost in the house of a friend..


The day my mama left me  in the house was a cold, cold day,

Came through the back door, forcing all entries, his persuasions were beyond funny,

It’s not so funny what kids do for a candy,

My mama left me in the security of a room, walls stretching with pain, and reeking of fear

Hastily, left me in the arms of a friend who wasn’t so friendly,

A promised ring and stuffed cupboards, keeps lips sealed over any observation that I was intruded,

My complaints were muffled and wrapped with threats,

The day my mama left me was a cold, cold day,

Gave me toys he said he just wanted to play,

The game ended where I became lost,

Lost on that cold, cold day

Written by Laurna Guiste

May the perpetrators and traitors of child abuse be exposed,

The Catwalk Cafe

Walking in a room full of strangers spins on her heels, faking confidence and her aim is to make it as the best entrepreneur in her part of  town. Knowing that the world is filled with numerous possibilities and she has the chance to be whatever and whoever she wants, she chose to be a gourmet chef at a small café in St Lucia. She would call it “The Catwalk Restaurant” specialising in pastries coffees and lunches $25US a plate, gourmet meals served with exquisite wines garlic bread and Italian salads.

Restaurant Music,

The ambience would reek of comfort, laid with colours of peach and white, furniture locally crafted, baskets hanging with orchids from the ceiling, scenting the air with its saccharine fragrance combined with the sweet aroma of coffee, ruffles  of newspapers, orders of menus sugary whispers of lovers as they sip on the Shiraz, ravings over how delicious the food is, she dreams it.

Making this reverie into a reality she required hard work, persistence, knowledge, good sense and of course money, which was solely the reason why she was here at the RCB Bank with her business plan held firmly in her grip, Heather Thomas was not about to back down.

Written by Laurna Guiste hopefully the chapter of a new book.

Letting Go..

The feelings of letting go yet holding on,

Not wanting to miss you, and not wanting you near,

Yet wishing to kiss you and getting lost in your stare,

What can I do to let you know I am sorry, what difference would my apology make to you?

To hug the lies and deceit once more would live more scars than before, yes, it hurts to hold this thorn rose,

As I drop the petals in the sea of forgetfulness, the scent lingers on my fingers, my wrist, my breasts,

Sucking the sweetness from the tips, why did we end like this?
Why did we go?

I can’t look in the mirror without seeing reflections of you,

so I broke it walk bare footed and hurt for us two.

Written by Laurna Guiste