White Paper cups,
Brown liquor,
Late night conversations
and early Sunday ***
Perfection is what we say it is.
While The Day Away,
Dance The Night Away,
Make A Wish Upon A Star,
This Time, I Hope You'll Stay.
Mar 29, 2022
Mar 29, 2022 at 3:29 AM UTC
The poet is a master deceiver
And a hopeless optimist.
Searching far and wide,
Reaching beyond what the oceans
Have to offer
To find glowing words
To string together,
Forge a beautiful sentence:
A stanza. a passage. a poem
Describing the most deepest of pains
In elegant, haute words
Potent enough to ****** strong Samson,
And deceive wise Solomon.
I know not whether he knows it,
But the winemaker is not impervious
To the effect of wine.
Perhaps -like us all he - too, is deceived
Dec 9, 2020
Dec 9, 2020 at 11:55 PM UTC
As long as the sun still stubbornly
rises from the ashes -
day after day, dragging herself
across the wide and unforgiving sky,
yearning to meet her lover at the horizon,
only to bleed herself empty of the gold in her
in the final moments,
so will we keep rising and falling...
rising and falling...
For what we know to be true
Nov 13, 2020
Nov 13, 2020 at 1:21 PM UTC
Children playing in the open field,
Aloof, a mother lovingly watches on
My dreams fulfilled
Aug 12, 2020
Aug 12, 2020 at 3:03 PM UTC
Young Love Is Neither Bold Nor Sweet - It Just Is!
It Hasn't Been Tainted By Past Experiences
And Neither Does It Know Pain
Aug 10, 2020
Aug 10, 2020 at 10:59 AM UTC
"Ah, Love", he said
Clenching His Fist In The Air
As If To Stop The Sun
From Reaching The Horizon.
"Love Is A Tragedy"
Aug 10, 2020
Aug 10, 2020 at 10:53 AM UTC
“Your heartbeat sounds like tragedy”, she said
Resting her head on the ruins
That lie beneath my chest.
“But don't worry”, she added
“I've always loved tragedy”
Jun 26, 2020
Jun 26, 2020 at 5:22 AM UTC
My Accent Is The Wisdom
Of My Gradmonthers,
The Resistance Of My Forefathers
And The Folly Of My Youth
Dancing Harmoniously When I Speak
It Is The Resistance That Boils In My Blood
When The Capturer Seeks To Make Me His Stock
My Accent Is The Mumbled Voices
Of My Ancestors Who Were Stolen
From Their Families -
Never To Return To The Land Of Their Birth
It Is A Reminder Of The Resistance
That Runs Deep In My DNA,
Of My Forefathers Who Are Buried At Sea
My Accent Is My Identity
My Heritage
My Culture
And A Marker -
It Is My People
Jan 27, 2020
Jan 27, 2020 at 9:49 AM UTC
Where the sun meets the tired Sahara desert,
Lay me there.
Watch my silhouetted body dance
To the tune of nature
As you walk away.
Let my lifeless body become
Nature's paradox:
That which is lifeless sustains life,
A rude and sobering reminder
That it takes a life to make one
Jan 11, 2020
Jan 11, 2020 at 5:59 PM UTC