31 | 31 Poems for August 2017

There’s something exquisite about your smile, your brown eyes have got me hypnotised, and your heart is a gold mine.
I’m addicted to everything you say and do, so be my poet and I’ll be your muse.
We’ll figure out everything else once we’ve found something to do between our sporadic bursts of laughter.
Let me comfort you with soulful conversations accompanied by several bottles of red wine.
We could vibe out and listen to James Blake, and you could tell me about the days when you couldn’t see the colour in anything.
I’m no stranger to the waves of the ocean, so I eventually want to get lost in the depths of you.
You are a picturesque South African city worth exploring even when tourists no longer come to visit.
Their dollars, euros, pounds, nairas and rupees may run dry but my love for you will keep overflowing.
I could write poetry and love letters on your skin but my handwriting is not as beautiful as my words are.
I’ll be your poet in a world that’s still acquainting itself with all the writers of exquisite African literature.
In the Supreme Court of your love, people have told you untruths while under oath – I think the law calls it perjury.
We could vibe out and listen to James Blake, and you could teach me how you see the colour in everything.
I want to get lost in an endless field of sunflowers while basking in the warmth of your presence.

I stood in the February snow
the freezing sleet
no boots
no coat
Steam wafting off my fury

My father read the lie
two hundred yards away
and walking toward me

So I owned it
told it
With a snarl
Without a flinch
Both knowing

I held my ground before him
and wore the red of his hand
on my face for a week

I notice the night's no longer whole because you never call
yet a big part of me still wants to see your face...
just so you know I still hear your voice down the hall
and smell your fragrance in the air polluted by the flowers
with the part of me that still believes my arms are your place
your final destination as you're my constant hallucination
so I spend every little micro second of my daily hours
hoping for a miracle, wishing I were an endless tentacle
or even Heracles, to divert the Augean of your Heart
and have the magma of your passion flow back into my soul
so that I can once again be the whole
_______________
You were right and I was wrong, without you I ain't strong
Am tired of waiting for a tomorrow, that's free of you and free of sorrow
Tired of holding my breath, it ****** feels like the sigh of death
And my mind wandering, why won't you come and save me?
come and save me, save me love..
_______________
I have run, from wine to ***, to every end of this cold earth I could roam
your silence is deafening loud, hitting my ears harder than echos of a drum
hanging on perilously like a derailed speeding Tram...
for am out of ways of lulling my mind from chaos back to calm
My life's a dark night without a single star, my soul a million a scar
you were not my world, I was wrong about that too
you are my galaxy and there's no existence without you
I'd surrender all this to just one more time hold your hand,
a thousand years to see your footprints next to mine on the sand
for a minute with you, I'd give away forever, be it for a second or less
after all momentary completeness I guess is better than a lifetime mess
you should see me now, shredded like a sensitive document no longer needed
maybe you succeeded
________________
Y­ou were right and I was wrong, without you I ain't strong
Am tired of waiting for a tomorrow, that's free of you and free of sorrow
Tired of holding my breath, it ****** feels like the sigh of death
And my mind wandering, why won't you come and save me?
come and save me, save me love..

There Is An Old Poet Called Bill
Who hid keys and thought remember he will!
and when he found, what it opened he forgot
He's kind, engaging and chats a lot...
That Good Old Poet Called Bill.

To my friends
who can write
fresh-smelling
bouquets of words
with splendid color,
I offer my envy.
Mine are the blunt, stunted words,
rooted in the cracks
in pavement,
or forcing their way
to light around
overbearing rocks.
Some useful
in their own way,
edible or flavorful,
some with a
pedestrian beauty,
but few that one
would bring home in a bunch
with a box of candy.
More appropriate
in a grimy, young fist
crumpled in love,
destined to be vased
in a water glass
by a doting mother,
or shredded petal by petal
for the sake of soothsaying...
he loves me, he loves me not.

My world came crashing down yesterday
As you took my hand and let the words fall to place
Feelings I had submerged for years because of doubt
come from your lips they're all flowing out.
But it's too late for me as you stir up these urges
I've married another and have worked up the courage
To love just one man who loves me right back
Who will never leave me, and never lay traps
A man who I promised to love for forever
And never have doubt or fall for another.
So I beg for a stop, to remain friends my dear
For my path is chosen and remains very clear.

Everything hurts under this cover of black and blue
Who would have thought this could come from you
Your anger was so wild, your punches were so strong.
But the past is the past, you say we should move on
You say you're sorry, like so many times before
And you tell me you promise there will be no more
I don't know if I can believe you, but baby do I try
I just can't imagine leaving or telling you goodbye
So I cover up this pain that's under this black and blue
Wear long sleeves and pray that on one can ever see through.