Follow
The
Sounds
Of
Laughter
And
Joy
There
Love
Exist

I cant tell you how much the hush hush hurts,

the gaps,

[the deliberately left blanks]

the silences that make me scared of saying words out loud.


It's the switching of meanings that does it,

all the tip toe awkwardness

the swift, unconscious side steps.


It's the whole long stretch of silence,

the whole deliberate

accidental

hush hush of something I never even knew the name of.  


It's the casual,

forgettable

drops of slights

that I'm still turning

over and over.


It's a hush hush never intended to be malicious but

the quiet twists and tears

and so I can never tell you how much the hush hush hurts

because the silence keeps me hush hushed too.

I walk into the mirror box again and it’s as if my life
really is just an extension of my own metaphors.
I’m caught in the mirror maze, searching for something
in the mirrors at angles, but all I can see is myself,
my sad, stupid self, stretching on and on forever
with the same boring face, the same boring feelings,
again and again until I stop being able to make out the details.
Am I looking back at myself or am I looking forwards to the future?
Will it always be the same or has it merely been
the same since forever? I stare into the mirror tunnel
at all these selves repeating themselves,
forcing the years, the weeks, the days into the same strict patterns,
merely following the self that came before them, merely mirroring
the feelings, only doing it worse and worse with each new rendition.
It’s just me, I think, in the mirror box, caught up in myself
because I am selfish and horrible. I’m selfish and horrible
and I want to turn my back on myself but
how can I possibly do that in the mirror box?
I meet myself over and over, and it’s just me,
in all this vast, repetitive vagueness, just me in
this long stretch of lonely unsettledness that surely doesn’t end.
I want to smash my own face in, so I close my eyes
and try to think, maybe, maybe, maybe, because I don’t
want to be this grey-cloud self forever. I can’t be, and so maybe,
just maybe, somewhere beyond all these selves
there’ll be a day when I’m down on the shore
and the sea will be calm and the sky will be
faded purple. Love will not sink down into nothingness
because in the cool evening air,  my heart will be full
instead of gaping and my mind will be at ease
instead dwelling on it’s own boringness
or entangling itself in own self-created sadness.
And maybe, I’ll have abandoned my book
and its pages will be dry because I won’t have been crying into it.
They’ll be no mirrors, just the ocean,
glinting like an amethyst cluster in the half light
and I’ll rest my head on the shoulder of the girlfriend
I'll meet someday and I’ll smile in this beautiful liminal moment
and nothing will be tainted by the dread of returning home.
We’ll kiss – on the shore – and rewrite it forever and
maybe the stars will fall out of the sky when I shake it and
all my trains will run on time and all the wounds
in the world will heal simultaneously.
It’s a moment surely stolen from someone else’s poetry,
but I’ve got to cling to something to avoid becoming
lost entirely in all this dark, intangible vagueness.
There’s got to be at least one imaginary moment
that isn’t just me, reflected over and over.
There’s got to be one moment that doesn’t stare
back at me from inside the mirror box.

Locked Together
for life is a blessing.
Two hearts meets,
locked up together
forever in bliss,
Interwoven and blended,
woven in beauty.
In synergy embraced,  
locked together in love.
For love calls from the heart
with joyful tenderness,
holds two beautiful souls
to celebrate the
awesomeness of the divine.
Locked up forever by
the sublime force of will.
Two hearts meet in love,
not minding if they will
reach the shore or not.
Bind together to drink the
sacred wine from the garden.
This love in this life is
so pure and beautiful.
We danced for the sake
of the spirit beating
the drums within our hearts.
Grateful for your love.
©2018,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.

Most people definitely
lived a genteel lifestyle
in a blissful manner.
Love this beautiful life.
With each day you can
find the balance of the
rhythm of passage of
your life within the circle
of the activities around you.
Serenity and peace is
the only guide to a
blissful lifestyle.
Always thrive but
never struggle,
for everything will come
to you with time.
Your deepest desire will
attract your own good.
Your destiny has been
planned, prearranged,
mapped out and designed
for only you.
Your footsteps are ordered.
The part you have chosen
is a mysterious one and
complex in nature.
Each day brings the best
part of all our struggles
to make up the textures
of your lives.
In pursuit of your own personal
happiness individually is the
purpose of your being
here on earth.
Fill up all the gaps,
right or wrong,
head or tail,
you must have at least
done your best work.
Always remember that
the ocean can never be filled
or satisfied with any amount
of water you pour into it.
Let your effort and your part
done be enough.
©2018,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.

Like a cloud of dust on a stormy day,
Everything will soon come to pass.
Be it the peng of hunger in one's body,
Or the wealth people die to amass.

Like the beautiful flowers that bloom,
And Like all the hummingbirds that sing,
The sweet melodies I hear from my room,
Everything here will soon become nothing.

Like yesterday and the day before that,
And the stars that shines brightly at night,
Everything here will soon be gone in fact.
Naturally extinct by time without a fight.

Just like the infinite nature of our universe,
Everything here follows a natural procession.
We can't hasten neither can we try to reverse,
The expiry date set up at the time of creation.

Like time,like death and nature itself,
Like the day, like night and everything,
Like dad,like mom or my very self,
We'll all pass away like we were nothing.

Love has its own frequency
Which sadly has no accuracy.
So you can cry me a river,
Fry for me some tender liver,
Promise to love me forever,
Or try to do whatever...
But if the timing isn't right,
And my romantic game isn't tight...
Even though you're very awesome,
The flower of love just won't blossom.

Love-frequency is a sad reality
Love or hate the contrasting duality.
So you can treat me like a king,
Dance for me and try to even sing.
You can have quality time with me,
Try your best to ignite the flame.
You can grill for me chicken wings,
Roll your lovely eyes until it swings...
If my heart isn't in the right place,
Your efforts will be a fruitless chase.

#IvanBrooksPoetry©
  7/27/2018