Nature has divine qualities
Beyond national divides
So heart enfold immortal love
Where one sees mountain dance and move

In this do love has no color
Skin pigment shouldn't be honor
For all bears reddish clot
As we tread on earth path

So soil of time embraces our body
As the enlived soul transpired to the sky
All become one in a starky heaven
Where no divide and rule leaven

Only unending peace it brings
Shrinking hearts with joy and unending smiles
As they commune in glows of divine instinct
For the greatest commandment is love

As bird fly above
So cloud of hate gives love as chance
Embracing one with will of divine
So our earth become an undying paradise

written by
Martin Ijir

A merging of two,
not unlike another,
spectrums of shade
                        and light woven.

Coalescing to become
more than the singular,
A marriage of differences
                         becoming one.  

Beauty is a footnote,
a visual acuity of senses.
This eclipse of submerging
                          within another.

Now hues are a new emotion
painted on the sight of others
senses, like a new flower
                                  blossoming.

I  was a funeral pyre for there disillusions. All arched in collective
fragmentation of what transpired within the variation of echoes that
collected upon them. Like voices on a beach of shells shattering harmoniously they fell like sheets cleaved from a washing line.

I just looked, my voice rippling across the street of what I was perceiving, they were now not mesmerised by the effigy of
my features but know they fled. Neither walking but unattached
to what was perceived. Their stares blank cavities of nothingness.

Wondering within what could be perceived as a pastel painting,
things where they were meant to be, but!!
Slightly
              out of focus, windows were like breath had been woven
within there frame of reflection. Random verses collected then
like a candle they were melting into the mist collecting till nothing.

The focus of my mind was that it wasn't just the images of aged personality woven with the fabric of this place but images of
children in happiness then contorted within what could be perceived
as loneliness. they walked alone hand out like in a needing of
what couldn't be complicity conceived.

Some were against formations  of what were perceived as walls,
but looking upon them, more like memories coalescing  into tight
collects. Were these the structures of lives lived not formed into
a accumulation  of reflections? I bent down to talk to these echoes
of what i perceived as children and they cried memories on my palms.

**To Be Continued

I'm three years old,
        my mummy asks me?

"What ya wanna be when ya grow up,

"A serial killer mummy,

After that she hide the knifes?

[Puzzlement] covered my face, now that's
a big word for someone who's three, spell
check if you want to see.....

"Baby you ok?

[Puzzlement,] "I know go me. She looked
as I did was this look was it somewhat
[contagious] "I know I'm three,

"Yes mummy I'm a cereal killer. I plunge
my spoon in to my breakfast till it seeps
milk then when I've finished I bury it.

"Bury it, yes in the bin mummy there
remains rot and make fertilizer.
"My mummy looked relived,

But I didn't tell her I bury them in the garden,
in the little black bags in the flower bed.
Decaying cereal feeding the flowers nourishment.

I die in within the moments that are coalescing
                                                          inward­s between
                                                   a fraction of  breath,
and I revive to expel the moments my
consciousness that fled to oblivion.

Welcome to the bereavement of my
                            wordings decaying
to nothingness before your eyes/.
Translate them before they
are inert, and are the
                          voice
                           of the
                                dead.
No longer dead and unnavigable in verse.

We are but a lingering breath in the
                                  void of existence.

When we exhale a final vocalization
                of our moments that shed a tear.

We are but a grain of earth that grows
                          petals. that will always fall.

Our place is in memory, we are but a breath
                                               
                                              in a grain of sand falling.

Caged within cellophane mirages,
              swimming on promises that suffocate.

With every footstep...

                     If only I had two more steps...  

Reality suffocates slowly...

Where those that have eclipsed past breath.
Regressing into a stockade of oblivions slumber.
There words are static on granite anchors.

But where whispers are numb, even though
deleted of motions, a needing persists beyond
confined stillness, a yearning beyond substance

A duet sprung forth,  disconnected, but knew of
another's shadow caressing another. Thoughts are
like leaves they grow till branches intertwined.

Brushing upon memories buried deep beneath
the earth, a foliage of wanting. As leaves mingled
formations wove within the rustling emotions.

A pathway woven within leaves. branches silently
watch as they walk within this silhouette two leaves
released by the breeze, ascending to the distance.

They needn't say anything as leaves fall like teardrops
into an updraft, never falling below as these aren't
of sorrow. Two trees caress in a cemetery of cold memories.

We will always exhale sunsets,
but breath a new day.

When our eyes seek retirement
for contemplation.

As a sun arises on our reflections
awakening the prospect of
                           a less clouded day..