Twelve O’clock;
two hands
frozen.

And how time did stand still
–so still.
To allow us
to live
more,
to linger
just a little bit longer
in a kiss-
born from so lustful a longing,
it simply made the world
stop
for a while.

And in those non seconds
of sheer silence
I finally caught my breath
again,
and again,
and again,
and again.

By: Lulwama Kuto Mulalu

For years, I was happy
Always smiling
Never really sad as I am now
The sun was always up, lights always shining

But now, I'm dying
Always depressed, found crying
The lights are out, the sun was destroyed
What's the point of living if the thing you lived for....was dead?

Grant me the pleasures
Indulge me with fantasies
The reality is acknowledged by me
Believe me, I understand what you need
I know, just the same, what I want
I want to leave
I want to leave you with your awful lips and
Confused hands
I want to be with someone who loves me
Fiercely and passionately
With someone who lights a fire
Inside my body
And demands I stoke it
So it burns furiously for both of us
I care for you
You
The one who has supported me for long
Stretches of time
But my desires lay with another
Someone who feeds my indulgences
Who disbands reality;
My love

Clouds cap the distant snowy mountains,

A lone bird traces my sorrows in the wind,

Is this marking an angry finger of the gods,

Or are the very heavens spelling now begin?

This poem will certainly be a big hit
I'm throwing everything I've got and more into it
All the bells all the whistles all my poetic tricks
Rolling up my sleeves, into my open palm I will spit

This poem I'm pulling out all of the stops
Remove the plug at the bottom, raise the roof at the top
Fill in the middle with all that I've got
Blowing it all on the entire lot

This poem will either make me or break me
Lose me or save me, I'm thinking maybe
They'll love me or hate me, all want to date me
In Mardi Gras beads they'll want to drape me

This poem will embarrass all the other poems
Because this one poem will have it all going on
From the time it's conceived to the moment it's born
All other poems will concede to it's throne

This poem may even bring on the end
All the poets of today will turn in their pens
They'll be to afraid to write anything
As it will be the blue print to how a poem's written

Now that last thoughts got me thinking that it shouldn't be wrote
As it being the only poem is a scary thought
And how this single poem could yield so much power
I'd be crazy to set it free to dispose and devour

All this poem could do has really opened my eyes
So on second thought I'm not going to write
I'll lock up that thought shut the door tight
Another poem at this time I'll just have to find...