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b mafika Nov 2018
Deeper than love, deeper than me
deeper and deeper and deeper she pleads
maybe too deep that I think she's a freak
maybe too deep in the deep-end again
so deep, this time, I come across her weak
hold her close
feel her breathe
chest rise, and rise collapse
at my feet, eclipsed
in her eyes they rinse and hang me
so short lived, I wish
she could still be, I wish she believed
the same wind shaking trees
chopping waves, cools the sea, shifting clouds
til sunray-bounce off your melanin hip
- mountain range in you, snow-capped
dissolving into sea salt-spray
perfume on Cloth
grapes under foot.
I can never confuse one season for her.

-b mafika
Adaptation of a written rap
b mafika Jun 2017
Eleventh hour has descended
frustration washes over me entirely
the only escape is to forget I am drowning
pearl necklace, diamond ring lost in the sea
Hope of your skin against mine
of your voice being my summertime
sinking while I reach out both desperate arms
expectation unmet is how the river of suffering flows
near, right here next to me, young heads
find young shoulders
and I throw my eyes like an anchor to the floor
arms are linking, lips are hugging, plums are bitten
those offered to me I touch and I wither
all this treasure gathered within me
it would be better to run aground than grind and die right here,
in the middle of the ocean.
b mafika Jun 2017
This week has been about:
Devouring, myself, from the inside
chewing at my cheeks, biting my teeth, gritting
so my stomach churned, looking up with eager eyes
wishing, on the strokes of light crossing the sky
to be my direction home
but those were missiles
remnants of the battle for Mind
child of Damascus
I have rolled down hills of peace before
turned back and looked proudly upon a majestic city
ruler of Damascus
I fed myself suffering
chewing air - fantasies of three hers
my real touch arriving so close to each
to either back away or sabotage what was not mine
but opening to me
as if those are destinations, no! they are ends
leading to Damascus
where amongst ruins I still dream my most beautiful dreams
for whole days and nights, my stomach yearns
I implode,
watching hope litter the sky.
This week has been about
b mafika Apr 2017
you might as well be the stars:
you only let me love you from this far
out in a full moon's light I can see the waves
stretch closer than you've ever been to me.
don't talk about galaxies I can't reach
don't talk planets I can't be
every single word burns:
i love you more than you love me
stuck on silly planet earth.
b mafika Apr 2017
A sugartree wants to grow
my heart is the intended field
smothered by a hundred storms
broke the surface and now I can heal
waiting for a certain warmth like your skin
and a breeze sweeping all of me like your breath
my stomach is a bottomless desire for treats:
eyes that wrap one like destiny,
and the wavy line thrown into one's ocean: I love you;
woven into the fabric of my eyelids
these afternoons close on me still, empty
stars flash with my longing
each night I dream your sweetness
humming as the tree hums when swept
in a pre-empting wind:
it is me searching
and not finding.
b mafika Mar 2017
i am a star in this play
but with every chance i step closer
so do you edge away.
when will this arm-less waltz end?
on two knees i've asked:
*when can this satellite come back to earth
and spend the evenings navigating you?
b mafika Mar 2017
Should I wait sometime
to tell her how I feel for her? If so,
when does the coral reef know
when to spawn? They say on the fifth night
after the November full moon. Her birthday
is too far away to see from here; her eyes:
two flashes of light on the horizon.
My mother and sister mentioned I stay still
12 weeks, Lao Tzu said until my mud settles.
Tamia and Charmaine insisted now. I looked
to Rumi, and he smiled back patience.
A patient person does not have to ask how long?
And here I am: counting
the minutes between her texts,
on her replies as breaths;
poring over
the pictures of her - in my hand, in my mind.
One moment she feels close, the next
she is the grain of sand I try to keep in my palm.
Patience is praise, says Rumi.
In it the right action will arise, added Lao Tzu.
That is where I must be, whispers my heart.
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