we bonded on things
on our body that
weren't supposed to
be there.
imagine conversing
over what's supposed
to be.
Sep 24, 2018
Sep 24, 2018 at 9:34 AM UTC
i made a pact
with the night.
if it doesn’t say
anything, then
neither will i.
Sep 24, 2018
Sep 24, 2018 at 5:37 AM UTC
son comes home from a long day, father notices his son’s eyes begin to water, attempting to hold it all in. father sits son down and reminds him that men weren’t created to be inhumane, without emotion. he reminds son that men don’t always need to split red seas to walk through on dry land; they are just as entitled to allow themselves to flood for forty days and nights if it means that they have the strength to start again,
bigger and better this time.
father reminds son that most things are worth dying for, but sometimes, when you’ve done all you can, you must stand, take up your bed and walk away. some people will expect you to break yourself into pieces and feed all 5,000 of their insecurities. some people will expect you to come out of your peaceful place and calm down their storms before tending to your own. some people will nail you to a cross of their expectation, stab your side then ask you why you’re bleeding. there are many that will pay to see you die, whilst smiling in your face with happy eyes and impure hearts. many will call you one thing, not knowing that that is not your name, and you are so much more.
so much more.
son puts masculinity on a fast. Jericho breaks down. Jordan rushes in. there are enough tears to water Eden.
father embraces.
Sep 23, 2018
Sep 23, 2018 at 4:29 AM UTC
why is it that
when you
know that you
know,
doubt comes.
Sep 23, 2018
Sep 23, 2018 at 4:25 AM UTC
study the palms.
it is important to
know the branches that
the stems of their
heritage root from.
kiss the cheek.
begin to send them
like postcards.
they will look back
and read the messages
hidden in the inside
jokes and in-between
the lines.
analyse the eyes.
you can always tell
if they’re to be trusted
with keeping secrets,
memories
or promises.
tend to their wounds.
for outside there are
salted oceans
that will submerge them,
and they will sting,
and sometimes they will
say things they
didn’t mean.
dance with them.
for there is nothing
more securing than
knowing that,
despite the separate
paces of life,
there is a time signature
that will keep you
marching to the same beat.
Sep 23, 2018
Sep 23, 2018 at 4:24 AM UTC
the evening had a
filter of sepia.
brown houses and
golden streets, the glow
of a soft orange
streetlight bounced
off the bonnet of
our white car. then,
the road became more
private and
i came back
home the same
way i had left it.
Sep 23, 2018
Sep 23, 2018 at 4:23 AM UTC
how about we
focus on
the blood
that’s painting
our streets red
and not on
the blood that
i can’t help
but shed
there is a
difference.
one of them
is unnatural.
Sep 23, 2018
Sep 23, 2018 at 4:22 AM UTC
we are the people
of contrast.
storm in the cloud.
glory in the blood.
joy despite fury.
peace in the flowerbeds.
Sep 23, 2018
Sep 23, 2018 at 4:21 AM UTC
the day comes to an end.
night says it’s about ten minutes away. in the meantime, sunset switches the kettle on, slips its feet into fluffy slippers and turns the lights low. night says its outside. moon wishes sun sweet dreams, requests prayers of strength, anoints its head with oil before locking the door behind it. earth takes centre stage for the second act, lit by the eyes of stars. and with undeniable stage presence, it performs the monologue for night. the droplets that form streams and oceans stand still. winds hold their breath, the leaves faint, the clouds silently weep in awe.
Sep 23, 2018
Sep 23, 2018 at 4:20 AM UTC
the moment a poet
falls in love with you
is the moment
you live
f o r e v e r
Sep 20, 2018
Sep 20, 2018 at 4:45 PM UTC