"i'm in class,
can you text?"
was me, texting her.

"i wanna hear your voice, feel your arms", came her response,
texting back.

i looked out of the window,
she stood there,
by a taxi in the parking bay.

i sat where i sat,
and rewinded back
to the last time i saw her -

i left her standing there,
pleading heavy
till the wind took her eyes.

i've been a fool
for the most
of this life.

i feel the water rise
in my eyes too, and i quickly sit up straight to still the strain.

there's something
about old pain that feels fresh
everytime i reminisce.

i blink once, and blink again.
and by the time i blink a third,
my mind is made up.

i broke this girl's heart once,
and i'm not
repeating the act.

many men never get
a second chance, but i have one at my disposal in this hour -

whatever i do from this day forth
must define nobility and honour,
i swear it on the 'w' in my name.

"i'm on my way to you," i text.

and from where i sit, i see her smile from the core and it shows up in her movements.

so i get up,
pick my things,
and leave."

I thought,
As I sat in my chair
About you –

And I decided,
To gift you a letter
Making clear my wish:

You’re pretty, and it’s not just your colours
You hold grace. I’ve known women
that envied you

You do things to the sun,
His light shines in clumsy beams
When you’re around

You do things to the sky,
He stands proud and stout
After you leave

You do things to the rain,
Even the storms tread gently
In your presence

You do things, to me
Come and stay in my house –
I’ll worship you.

Lupita,
Teach me that the black girl
Is more than just, that –

More than just,
A **** provoking short-skirt
Tight-thick-thighs temptation

More than just,
A slim waist, supple flesh
And ‘shuga’

Stare into my ignorant eye,
And teach me
Lupita.

Scarce cloud on the upsky,
Scarce mind in the uphouse

No rain for the toad at chair,
More pain for the pauper’s child –

It’s winter.

“I woke up to chattering teeth like a serial coward,
Except the fear is not within here, it sits in the air

The year carries twenty figures in twice orientation,
The year carries blessings and curses in twin proportions

Dear Twenty, talk to me, what do you expect of us?

Men’s lives fade like starving candles,
My hope slips out of the palms like I’m trying to hold wet air

Empty man, I’m scared of dying too young
Dumpty head, my shell cracks – I’m scared of dying too young

Bad days have me freezing inside the skull,
I’m not friends with God anymore and I miss Him –

Tears.”

“My mind carries a pain
My skin bears a voice
I’m mad and it shows

It’s black in my soul
I’m bad, I’m insane
I’m mad and it grows

Black man with some vocals –
Black man with no arms,
Black man yes, the pain is mine, and it eats me  

Black man and there’s black in my thoughts,
So I keep screaming
Black man with heavy dreams that haunt him:

An ambition in the winter,
Flower never grow, for my seed cannot afford
Friction in the air when I’m bitter

Pay fee for my visions to come into sight, capitalism
Terrors caged in my intuition, neo-colonialist inhibitions
Give men races, take away our faces, branding

Culture punctured or am I just Insaniod?
**** the stereotype?
I try, but the Earth is stereohyped

Blame my senses? I can’t.
Too many cents owed me –
Nonsense.”

“Walk right up to you,
To the root of your throne
And stare, expectant

Cup in hand, thirst in soul
Ready to drink, and just demand:
I yell and raise the cup to you –

‘Forgive me!’

I am a hypocrite child, a mockery to your blamelessness
Please grant me eyes true,
And a tongue that knows honesty unimpaired -

‘I’m Sorry, My God.’