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naima-mungaiPoems
This is the voice of the face at the mouth at the heart of that woman This is the tear of the smile in the chamber where she lost her soul This is the hate from the love drawn deep in the well where she stores her hope This is… It is what I make it, It is what she wills it to be My nemesis, my lover, my judgment, my retribution This will say that I do not care, That I never did and I probably never will. This will write that I do not love, Nor hate, nor cry or laugh Not in this life time, the one before nor the one after. This will decide that I am Haunted by hate, by my apathy, by my indifference. This might touch you or loose you, This might move you or change you, But it cannot show you me You will show you me You will show me-me My self, my disgust, my filth, my dirt How? In your eyes, In how quickly you turn away when I walk by In how soon you will forget my name In how much you will disown Me, disown my words, my feelings, my hurt. And yet I am drawn To still do this To reach out, to play, to hurt, to maim I am sadist, Narcissus Alone Yet I still Rock forth Rock back See in, see without Look, Touch, Feel, Yet what does it mean? What do I invite? Who am I now? I do not know this person Do not feel them Think Think Think about man Long, hard, hate Think about life Pain, alone, death Think about love Left, hurt, tears Alone please Shouldn’t be touched by me Bad spirit Bad heart Do I know why this is interesting hand hurts now stop.
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Jul 21, 2012
Jul 21, 2012 at 7:57 AM UTC
UNTITLED
This is the voice of the face at the mouth at the heart of that woman This is the tear of the smile in the chamber where she lost her soul This is the hate from the love drawn deep in the well where she stores her hope This is… It is what I make it, It is what she wills it to be My nemesis, my lover, my judgment, my retribution This will say that I do not care, That I never did and I probably never will. This will write that I do not love, Nor hate, nor cry or laugh Not in this life time, the one before nor the one after. This will decide that I am Haunted by hate, by my apathy, by my indifference. This might touch you or loose you, This might move you or change you, But it cannot show you me You will show you me You will show me-me My self, my disgust, my filth, my dirt How? In your eyes, In how quickly you turn away when I walk by In how soon you will forget my name In how much you will disown Me, disown my words, my feelings, my hurt. And yet I am drawn To still do this To reach out, to play, to hurt, to maim I am sadist, Narcissus Alone Yet I still Rock forth Rock back See in, see without Look, Touch, Feel, Yet what does it mean? What do I invite? Who am I now? I do not know this person Do not feel them Think Think Think about man Long, hard, hate Think about life Pain, alone, death Think about love Left, hurt, tears Alone please Shouldn’t be touched by me Bad spirit Bad heart Do I know why this is interesting hand hurts now stop.
naima-mungai
Written by
naima-mungai
Kenyan
Jul 21, 2012
Jul 21, 2012 at 7:57 AM UTC
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