even love, a faded meaning
the uneven skill; bludgeoning the compass
a longing, a thirst for fortress in the prodigal past
always seems to swim so shallow
an even meaning when roses die
a shadow walking ground, a skeleton in the earth
leaning on its symbiotic ecstasy;
frail and ephemeral dipped in a sea of ash
when paradise keel's over in sea
awake in this lucid dream
let loose of the pipe
lest you breath as love
a silent lips for astrologers, even a tombstone for gazers
blood streaming down the crown;
never to grow rose
love is the soil.
Dec 5, 2018
Dec 5, 2018 at 5:15 AM UTC
A life faced with opposition
The trek to reach those in higher positions
can leave a heart feeling breathless
and vision blinded
opposition however is needed
opposition is that validation
of her determination
A dream that is big and wild
A trek that must have a story
And a tale of glory
Because opposition never stays
And will only win if she allows it
Her Farther said “nothing will touch her”
So keep trekking
One day one day.
Nov 25, 2018
Nov 25, 2018 at 8:15 AM UTC
She’s at a place where she feels trapped
As the mist rises and her sun is crying
She cant help but feel alone
Alone is a place were she’s been forced to feel
At home
She cannot recognise a noble deed
And allow that memory to take her
Instead the fear of being unloved
And hardly good enough
grip her hand
With every word
she is paranoid and annoyed
and triggered
into retreat
into alone
a place she calls home
they roll down a familiar face
warm and comforting
Its because she couldn’t stay
She wanted to, believe her
Believe she wants to be a better her
But she clings to alone
As a familiar face
A childhood case
That she needs to shake
She loves alone but hates it
She hates the time it gives her to think
About how unfamiliar the un-alone really is
She wants to share but she doesn’t know how
She wants to talk but she’ll be misunderstood
She wants to love him but she’s making him numb
Her sorry self is a burden and the cause of pain.
She says she felt rushed but she is here now
More in love than he can see
And then then there’s the stabbing thought that he wants to be free
Now she is comfort crying
Alone.
Nov 25, 2018
Nov 25, 2018 at 8:13 AM UTC
'The door’s locked
I’m flying off the handle
she fettered the grenade to my feet
My heart’s catatonic and lips paraplegic
I shut my eyes, turn back the clock
and escape my sins'
- Jack Frost
Jun 29, 2018
Jun 29, 2018 at 2:11 PM UTC
He put his heart on the poker table
‘he’s all in’ his face grim and unquavering, he thinks he’s able
but the cards are stacked against him
he plays all moves
but the joker beleaguers his fingers
they use his mind as a bullet practice board
wearing their bullet proof vest so they’re well protected
He’d been on a scorching quest for disaster
was given a tepid glass of love in return
They said his heart was a Rubik’s cube in a Swiss bank
so he pulled the funds out took the risk rather than being a *******
He spends his heart on love,
he realises its like a cigarette loaded with regret rather than nicotine
so he took a cue,
formed his heart back to a Rubik’s cube
and put in a Swiss bank in the maze house
Jun 29, 2018
Jun 29, 2018 at 6:21 AM UTC
I shouldn’t have
I guess I forcefully moved my things into your heart on parham street
This fool has been celebrating a grubby clean slate
He drank a cocktail before the harvest
After storing his brain safely in the garbage
He asked ‘would you be mine’
I shouldn’t have said I love you first
Now realising that was the pistol to your head
And i jumped the gun twice and over again
This fool stands in awe of his folly
He reads his scribbles of idyllic love poems and ******** dovy quotidians
Every compelled ‘i love you’ will be overturned
My hands over-burned from the blisters
Bitter from the bile from every memory
Though i took my time, I was patiently stupid
I shouldn’t have
Now i’m sat here with this lollipop of regret
Now knowing that every graphic snapshot was because of that same pistol
No wonder why it all seemed strange
I used to gnaw about making you feel like you needed to trust me and love me
I was yet weary of receiving the blame of every kiss, pause and touch
I didn’t realise that the foundation was built on compelled labour
I was to quick to celebrate, but now i know what i should have
Jun 28, 2018
Jun 28, 2018 at 5:38 PM UTC
For the man has been changed,
dressing in a mirage and false attire
building a castle in his schizophrenic mind
for so long he guessed it was mist
his mind limboed by their words
'we are architects of the sand filled castle' they scream
they say he uses pity power,
so they tell him his pseudo-castle is bliss
For the man has been changed
the realisation is the ****** in his heart
he was right, their trust is a facade
they say he uses pity power
so they have to stay with him in the hard-times
For a time, I too thought my bed was laid,
unraveled the best wool for this bamboo sheets
all for me to realise that every utterance of love
that came from their lips
was but for them on a pressure cooker; making me the chef
though i took a journey, i started to understand they were never with me
they knock me off my perception stand
my candle light burning without light
though now they do not understand, for when they shall, standing not shall i be
for my heart has taken a bow
For a time, though i have sailed through them endlessly
and became an anaesthetic mind for their sake
for the man has been changed
though they say he uses pity power
this lego victim is the solitude man
and He's back.
Jun 28, 2018
Jun 28, 2018 at 1:57 PM UTC
In the darkest nights,
this, solitude man tilts the hour glass
to the boy who built a cave
with the carnage of his sporadic mind
He holds his hands,
through his serene scars
though patiently misunderstood
over him this, solitude man watches
in the darkest nights
But as darkness dawns
to war solitude man must go
as this, solitude boy, tilts the hour glass
just in time, to hold his hands.
- Ola Bajo
Apr 26, 2018
Apr 26, 2018 at 5:09 PM UTC
i'm on this journey,
clinging with scar faced palms
the thorns scrub my feet
heart bewildered as the salt licks my tongue dry
like a candle light i'av been burning without ashes
was holding on to this tree I thought will keep me
with its fruits as my mind is scurvied in hope
but it was a dream
i'm on this journey, sparring with him
through the water wall reflection
this atmosphere is tailored to my skin
so as I walk alone
through this shadow breathing valley
its okay, don't save me, its almost time
all i need, is one more melody.
Ola Bajo.
Mar 22, 2018
Mar 22, 2018 at 10:02 PM UTC
There is something about the human condition
truths are popular philosophies
hate our realism; love an idealism
while forever living in the hope for an eccentric world,
we forget we are the revelation of tomorrow.
For in the human condition there are no facts, just trends;
wanting to be something we are not,
we became slaves to our autonomy.
What we seek to be is a reflection; a mirror of what others seek to be
in the end the void is never filled.
For about the human condition, there is something,
something ******** in thinking we are woke.
Mar 21, 2018
Mar 21, 2018 at 9:07 AM UTC