Questions rumble as I entered a room
In a dream all eyes poured upon me
I start my proud trade in song
However, the audience is deaf and blind.
Awakening
Same old feeling
"How do I escape to Fantasy Island?"
Clearing the grains of sand
that "Father Time" impregnated into his eyes
For untold reasons
The dreams are like aired reruns
from a transmission in in sleep
waking kills its beautiful treat
hang out all day
cooking in the sun
movies are fun to watch
acting is an escape
when you are not a "Superman"
Lost to Krypton weighing on his cape

"You better make that Candy Bar Last"
It's hard for a broken back to enjoy
"His next stand"
without a prop to help hold him
up from falling
in "Chernobyl's Black Hole"
as his counterpart hovers in safety
watching another drown. "What planet are you? Far?"
Miles pledge the marks
Until the quiet fades
And Mr. Hyde Tries to fight you
The Wicked Joker reigns "supreme"
as you fight past A Waking Nightmare
Not a "Wizard " in "past Kansas"
Your soul flies far away
As your waking body receives their torture
As the body shivers and then ages
Fire burns remembrance
As it's ashes marks the lost pages
from your past
The smoke poofs into explosive shell rains
Smile
You are now in a movie
Fighting a forced "in class."

mama, i made someone happy yesterday!
i smiled as the door opened
              just as i always did
it was my first time to be chosen
    to be honest i was so nervous
they made me try out so many clothes
they said i had to look as pretty as i should
         they said they were trying to bring out
         my youthful look...
i never thought that meant
     more skin.
     more chest.
     more legs.
              he was an old man
wrinkles ravaged round his face
yet his smile had no blemish
          he stared at me
          and chose me almost immediately
i was never more proud
yet i was clueless of what next to do
    i should have wrote to you as early as then
         but as soon as
       we arrived
                          at my 'new home'
                or at least that was how he called it
   he called me to his room
            he nearly had to kneel
            in order to see me
                eye
                to
                eye
      i thought he was going to hug me
      as he leaned in
                                 he just undid my bra
            his hands were huge
            they cover almost my whole chest
he asked me to take of my shorts
        and he was smiling
   for once i knew
              i was doing something right
i barely slid my undergarment off and he pressed me against the unsuspecting bed
       he grabbed both my legs
                    as he told me to open them
              while he tole me to close my eyes
    he started
          pushing against me
      it was so so hard             so painful
relentless      excrutiating            i had to
                 bite my tongue to stop myself
         from screaming
               i think i was bleeding?
           i felt the blood pour out
                        i couldn't take it.
    i couldn't ask him to calm down
               it was just way too fast
he was panting                breathing heavily
         grunting         driving himself too hard
    it was like he could run out of breath
                       i wanted to make him stop
i really did
                   trust me.
            but as soon as i tried to shout
      or help him or something
                he fell over
          don't worry though he was still breathing
                           and his face
he just looked way too happy
           i was paralyzed the rest of the day
     until now i can barely stand up
                    but he was just so in bliss
       i hope you're proud of me mama.
              he said earlier he'd be taking me back
to the warehouse later
            i don't know why though.
     do you think he'll tell them i've been
         a good daughter?
                   i hope so.

Speak African child, speak. for you poses a  mouth that heals nations. It is in thine voice in the vibrations of thy mouth that remedies are provided to our ailments.

speak African child, speak. speak against the calamities that befall your land. speak against that hand that he dare raises against your bare skin. speak against the blood of your brothers spilled to please others.

Speak for  Africa that is one and united, Africa that does not know of any racial divides. Africa that knows no skin colour. speak African child speak. for you are the voice of liberation. speak  for your voice are the echoes of our ancestors.

child labour, human trafficking, child *******, school violence, femicides, suicides. and you say you see this not.  African child where is your voice in all of this. doesn't that skin, that accent and ***** hair mark you as of African descent.

Speak African child speak for you bare the answers to our questions, you bare the sole of our history.

I’ve always had a fear of water that’s deep
I remember my fright in the city pool
how I made friends with the shallow end
how close to the sides I’d keep.
I still recall that curved stone edge
how my fingers held on and I felt a fool
being so scared when the other kids
would jump in the deep end with joy
how I felt like such a silly scardy boy
and I envied their abandon and grit
the big splash when their cannonball hit.

But it’s true my daddy was never there
to teach me to swim
to help when I came up coughing for air.
Oh man, how I could have used him
and his strong arms to hold me
and show me the breast stroke
slap my back when I choked.

Now I still thirst for a father
when I get afraid of the deep water.
The difference is now I’ve got a dad
who’s always there when I’m afraid or sad.
In fact I look forward to the dive
into the deep where I’m so alive
centered and at peace.
But I’m still learning to let go and release
the edge of that deep pool
and breathe in the depths… of spirit fuel.