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 May 2014 Owen Phillips
Nothing lulls to sleep quite like concrete waves
of endless tarmac roads,
the car christened Frau Marienkäfer by raindrops
of a passing thundercloud.
Baby butterfly whose pigments are smeared across
the windshield –
were you chasing the ‘Big City’ dream like
all the rest?
Written on a rainy night, around 9PM, just as we entered the Lincoln Tunnel to drive into Manhattan.
Things feel heavy right now and
my body wants to be free
I met you and then things took a new turn
I began to see through new eyes

I take host within the body
of those I grow new love for
the eyes of lovers are my identity
I am fluid now and can see my unease

I do not understand how
to carry the weight of
all these eyes at once

but I did

Now I can feel
That I loved them all
not one the same
yet each made my heart twist

My body is too small
Don't pretend to be knowledgeable
about that which you do not understand.

It's really annoying
and it's akin to misinformation.

Plus, anyone who knows a **** thing can see through your *******-
and you can't ******* a bullshitter.
Cold ocean crashing
Windy beach reacting.
The frozen rain pelts,
Making indents in the sand.

Collective ***** compensate
For the hills they hate,
The foam that catches their eyes.
Seaweed washed up ashore.

Clanking clouds condemn
Ecstasies of the hymn
Sung once amongst the rowboats
That now are lost at sea.
 Mar 2014 Owen Phillips
 Mar 2014 Owen Phillips
i guess i thought that i could learn how to drink away this lump in my throat

movies always taught me that when i turned 18, i would start shedding my skin and breaking down my walls but i didn't have any walls to tear down.
so i tried my hardest at age 18 to build them up, with the only things i had - boxes of matches
left over from burning down so many bridges

all because of some pieces of twisted metal,
i had to reteach myself how to drive.
and now i'm always 5 under the speed limit
i stop at every stop sign
no matter how angry i get

no one ever told me whether or not boxes of matches float
or why my neighborhood always looked so dark
and made me curl up like a dead spider

so now i stick my head in the freezer,
so i can get used to the feeling of my thoughts being so cold

now i kiss people just so we don't have to talk.
It rains heavily...
Roofs leaking, water seeping

Bless'd against my will...
As the tropical storms rage

Causing chaotic...
Rattled windows, doors and gates

All over the house...
Creating theatrical effects

As lightning flashes...
And thunder follows behind

Children play outside...
Trivializing the weather

A good one for sleep...
Except for the leaking roofs

New holes emerging...
Brings to mind a nursery rhyme,

"Rain, rain go away,
Come again another day"

Back then reasons were...
"Little children want to play"

I can't help but sigh!
With the aftermath in view...

Soaked beds, sheets and drapes...
Smelly rugs for days to come

Wrecked roofs and ceilings...
Flooded streets mixed with sewage.

Showers of blessings indeed!

© Raphael Uzor
Inspired by the unbearable living conditions of the poor in the slums of Nigeria. My heart bleeds at the indifferent attitude of the government and the elite class.
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