Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Kingsley Dominic Apr 2017
ANTHILLS*

Because you don't hear our voice
Don't think we don't talk to our kind
About how your wickedness cost us blood
When the rain does flood.

Our tents you destroy
Just because you can
Whereas you still need us;
A special delicacy of protein at supper.

Yet our resolve to survive against it all
Never matter how many anthills you fall
We shall sound the call
To rebuild our broken walls.

Even if nature doesn't judge the call
As unjust
We wouldn't waste our breath
To argue our cause
It's a curse.

We go back to work with spines that ache and quake
As a duty; we must
Because the rains would soon be again
And it cost me pain
To tell you how it aches to build what's built again.

__

#winks.
Kingsley Dominic Mar 2017
HOME*

Home is not a point that we need
A compass to locate
It is not a geographical north or south
It is not where the breeze blows
or the wind knows

Home is where you find smiles
Laughter intoxicating like red wine
Is when you see sunset in eyes and skins
Of memories, of dreams and of paintings

Home is where the heart is
And at home is where my heart is
When in the rhythm of its beating
It speaks your name
In letters beyond alphabets.
Selah!
__
#winks.
Kingsley Dominic Mar 2017
Tongue Tied*

I have searched all over
Beneath the deep covers of seasons and times
Books and even fairy tales
Just to find a trace
A trace of elements
Of chemical rudiments
That should explain this biochemistry
My heart; an antenna seeking a frequency
Its fast beating, a signal that you're within reach...my reach.

Aye! Do you even understand the psychology of you and I?
You could be a million miles
And yet
Your smiles
I hear
And yet
The distance between us is just six paces
And two window panes
And I'm yet to negotiate the planes
To say the first hello.

So they say
We are made in twos
Pair of opposites
Right and wrong
Me and you
And no matter how I fancy you
I'm sure we couldn't get around the first hello
'Cause in my dreams
We meet
Of course you are always fine
And I always get your attention long enough
Just to get tongue tied again.

__

#winks
Kingsley Dominic Feb 2017
Alright,
I wish she'd be the most beautiful thing on skin,
Soft as butter and hard as steel.
She'd wear the gown I'd sown 4 her
In dreams painted by the words of affections...

She'd walk the runway of my poetry,
Elegantly like the queen and diety she's been,
In dreams of gods and kings and servants like me,
Her loosed her still dripping wet with honey
That my fingers helped with,
Falling carelessly on her firm shoulders.

She'd steal the show.
Lights,cameras and action...
Oh! They would love each shot taken by memories
Through the lens of the astronomer between
The telescopes mounted on a face
That read her stars shine in my eyes.

She'd wear my face instead and I would wear her heart,
It wouldn't fit in 'cause it is bigger than life but I'd try to fit into it and not get missing...
I wish she wasn't the most beautiful thing on skin...
I'd seen...

I wish she'd be the sun beside,
The stars above and the clouds beneath me,
'Cause with her earth is a distant planet...
'Cause my love for her is beyond the language of sands,soil and earth.

I wish you are her.
I wish you were her that I see in my dreams wearing a skin
Covered by pages woven with threads of my words...
And you will be eventually...
Smiles...

_
Kingsley Dominic Feb 2017
ALBINOS ARE SAINTS*

His colour is that of clay,
Africa's rich harvest and heritage
He's a masquerade;
A mystery; a myth; a labyrinth and a maze
Have you ever wondered how albinos were made?

I tell you how
They didn't come from the earth
Their flesh; a baked cake from the sun,
Descent from the fires of mystery

Sun flares giving their hairs such a sparkle
A sparkle that's a dazzling dazzle,
Mankind is afraid of their smiles
They are heavens beauty and secret weapon.

Children of the sun
Whose father must protect them from the sun
Their eyes give infrared beam across the dark nights
An albino is not just beautiful,
He's heavens beauty and secret weapon.

This is how the myth goes,
An albino never dies
He simply vanishes;
Fate is theirs.
Even an albino is enthralled by another albino,
They are born in the sun and buried in the moon
Or do you know a tombstone?

Just one
With the eulogy boldly written
"And herein lies a mystery:
An albino, who defies nature and logic
He's born in the sun and buried in the moon...
No you wouldn't find one
'Cause their tombs are in the heavens
Albinos are born saints and they die same.

— The End —