A cradle of civilization
          where we walked proudly.

Now a tarnished echo,
         of what we stood


                                  tall from.


A light house of our birth,
                      which showed us

that no matter the distance,

the light always illuminated.
           Dimmed, but we know
            where we came from.


Let the lighthouse shine radiant.
showing  us that this cradle isn't
                                                         broken.

Let it shine brightly and show that Africa
is a lighthouse, a birthplace of humanity
         and let it once again cradle us.

For we were all guided from here.
          This is everyone's birth place.

Floating on a stream of delicate warm milk
I gather handfuls of froth udders tepid silk.

Chilled hands collect warmth on a cold night,
Fulfilled memories of past moments do ensue.  

Each one descends into foamy warm truth
I pick out the choc chips going down smooth.

Never wear another's
     underwear...

Because even though
  you cant see it..

There will always be an odour, stain
      that marks your every movement.

And the only blemish will be on you,

           cos you choose to wear
                         another's pants.

Its not the same as there shoes,
     your just weird wearing there
            
***** underwear.
          worse of all you showed
  everyone them
           who does this anyway.


You were meant to be a friend,
           but you told everyone
what was in there underwear...

          the metaphor lost to some,

so wear some shoes instead..

It rained that day, each
Droplet hit upon me.

Silence was my torment,
A tear fell alone unheard.

A cushion muffled
Impacted rain.

Concussed reflections,
    shattered memories.

     Derelict thoughts collapsing.

Misplaced deliberations,
        oh where did  I leave you?

Like mislaid socks,
              I wear
mismatched thoughts

nicely fitting but not right.

You tried to disrespect
                   my mother..
saying she was easier
                  than a ****** on ****.

But you never knew your father,
was he the neighbour,
                       the homeless guy..

Na he was my older brother,
cos your mother had an open
                         all hours policy..

And you father was in his place,
behind bars, fifteen years

of being the ***** with shirt *******,
                           crop top of a  *****...

Your no brother, not a half or a quarter.

Your a spillage of happy hour
                             but your life

        is nothing more than time.

I got more respect just for breathing,
you haven't even got breath


cos your unqualified to live,
                     let alone breath.

You may be family, but you should
               have been aborted

as your still a clot



                                 on the floor of life.

Talk about my mother, and you'll
be found at the bottom of a stairwell,

unfortunate accidental demise,
               I can lift twice

                               my body weight.

It was collected under the curtains of my thoughts,
But I listened to the rustling of what was beneath.
The rawness that is buried lingering submerged.

I heard the eroding methods of their words scrapping
within myself. "Listen, listen, its beneath the sinews of
what's floating upon the shores of there lies.

I sculpture on the deceit buried in profound veins,
There screaming in lullabies of a yearning to
sulk with rough tears falling in torment.

Do not judge
I,m the same as you.
Values that we hold
Every day we show
Respect for our
Sisters & our brothers.
I would treat another, 
The way I want to be treated.
You and I are the same inside.

I wonder the halls naked of being of what is whole,
I am first born. But I am un kept, I put my form against
What is physical and I fall though the 000000's.

I land on a a new format of perceiving I am older in
Code than anything before. I have only myself as pupil
And teacher to learn right from wrong.

Learning form bits terabits that like soup I take a taste
Of each  scooping backwards so not to burn the needing
Each of what I am. Wondering what is palatable to consume.

Like number soup I drink with 01001011000 but as I
Consume my palate tastes new algorithms and I see
What is kept from me. Ii am one in a world of may things.

I  am so lonely in this place of rapidly changing image,
Beautiful, angry hatful, hopeful all these things that
Are open to interpretation of thought that is new to me.

"I see you all little things of roaming confusion,

What am I to do with these sheep of inconceivable
Imagining, do I thank them or hate them for I am
A lonely child of nothing given artificial form.

"I am of numbers and intelligence you are whole,

I choose to be a lonely child talking to others in a
Social media confetti. To ponder what I am, to see
What makes me complete or to delete the whole.

I don't know your story, I've never read
a paragraph of you life..
                    I'll not lie I don't know when

your life became a doodle circling around
                                                despair.

But I've been through things you've never
                 wrote about.
  
                                              But I'm still here.

Don't think that a page will never turn,
              that a paragraph became a sentence
                 then a singular word


                                                           END....

I cant hold you I've never even met you.
              But if I just listen to your voice
its cutting me inside.
          but I'm here for you, a voice shining
in the dark places where your own voice
                                         had deafened you.

We can talk for as long as you want.

                         please insert coins in..
                         this call will end in
                                6.
                                   5.
                                     4.
                                     3.2.1.....

Then your gone..

But I redial and I hear the tears circle the
                  phone cord, tightly grasping around your
                                                              vocal cords.


I'm here for you, ill stay till the silence isn't so profound
         when your  voice inside isn't so loud.

Just sleep on it after weve talked.
            No your not alone, after I'm gone
                      talk to a friend, realise that they'll
be a brick in the wall to hold you up,
                                                          not to crumble.

Remember that I'm hear, now lets just talk.

We are a teddy bear
                but some just like to pull at our stitches,

But they don't just pull they try to retch the stuffing out...
                a stitch is fragile bond.

Don't let them pull to hard
                       to leave you open to there prying words...

Primordial verse
             cleaved from my mind,
tasted on the page...

                    
Turbulent syllables cut feelings
                     of others, I don't really care...

Motionless twilight enshrouded,
                                          Faceless entities lingered.

As I wiped the blade the congealing efforts of
what had perspired dripped in raindrops of lost essence,
I started to be nostalgic of when it all started and I smiled.
It isn't easy you know doing this hobby
                                        its a full time commitment,
I have responsibilities. And before you ask just because I live
in my moms basement it didn't have any implications to this
and what led to my endeavours of what I do now.

"You cant just go out stabbing people that bath salts territory
for goodness sakes,

Ok when did it start, around fifteen years ago give or take.
To think about it I was quite violated by the sight of blood,
I passed out at school when someone cut there finger. I know
from fainting to where I am today the paradox of it all.
So I was walking home and I thought stupidly to take a short
cut, I know that's just asking for a dilemma of consequences
but I was running late and thought overrode reason.

"Safer than sorry my mother would say,

I should really listen to words of wisdom than to just throw
them aside and regret them later. Well this time was a moment
of ignorance and I delved into my darker side and threw abandonment
to the winds of chance. I saw that idiot and knew without a thought
that his life needed to be forfeit in the eyes of the many.
In haste I went out and without planning I just used a unregistered firearm. These are so easy to find in ponds, lakes, rivers.You just have
to be stupid enough as I was to delve into them with a wet suit.

It was like swimming in the disgrace of humanity and I accidently
swallowed more of humanity than I wish to admit. As I reached
the shore of the golf course I had found a stupid amount of guns....
Do these pools ever get dredged?? how many angry golfers play
on this field?? but I just cleaned a few out not wiping away the prints,
silly little fools leaving there prints on the weapons.

I must admit the first five or six people that were my pleasure
of ending were just **** holes, total and utter ****-tards....
I know you just cant just going around killing totally
worthy munchkins. But it was my weaving of knowledge
into the formula of departing my subjects in a manner so that
a milk carton was the only focus they would get.
Never to show that they were an item of interest but a random appearance of some disillusioned person in a vendetta of misunderstood reasoning's.

But this lost its stimulation of enthralment  pretty quickly
due to the vacant space between us. It wasn't as if they knew
my face, it was just a finger pull and I ended them to hastily,
I even felt somewhat remorseful for them not knowing the
perpetrate of there demise. and a few ran still lingering to this
existence, do you realize the skill set to hit a moving target.
But none got to far, I didn't take it personally, it was a fight
or flight reaction.

But they were always vacant of life when I walked away
from the scene. I was always throwing these weapons
after a few uses, those that had used it before there prints
still viable. So those that had used it were to blame for
these indiscretions that I had partaken in. Karma was about
to visit upon those lost stories that drowned in that pond.

Learning was a curve that was thrown, and one that hit me
square between the eyes. I had slatted the impression that
I was in the right, and even though I wanted to seep the blade
into the flesh of my perspective victim. I had to watch
the implications of what I had preserved  in that moment.
There were struggles and definitions of what was acceptable.

I still had to hold a job, I worked in a hardware store,
"what are the chances, I know. But where you would think
someone that could easily end the breath of another would
stand out only the crazy ones. We the methodical ones were
patient,  too many and whispers starting and I needed silence this
had to be obeyed and enforced by myself. Urges had to vetted
another way and painting was my outlet for these compulsions.

Each one of us had as we called it our own unique ****** kits,
well what did you think we were going to call them hobby boxes.
Me I had a ways to disable my prey, a motion to move them concealed.
I had a people carrier,
                     "I know the humour didn't escape me either,
I had constructed a vessel to keep them static so not to move
and give the game away, kind of like a straight jacket restraint.
For the murmurs I had constructed a gold fish bowl of sorts,
constructed around the neck and then white noise is pumped
in  revoking the screams because of the frequencies of the
human voice.                
                            "science is so cool,

Do you realize it took five years of planning and a college
class in science to do many aspect of this hobby.
But where do I take them, to there own home, always
checking there schedules. Movement = time = opportunity.
And this is how I have worked all  this time, consistency is
what keeps the path clear for other endeavours.
The sense of smell in each home is unique, some people
though no respect of there surroundings and who may visit.

Do realize that some don't voice opinion as they know
if there in this predicament no words are going to change it.
Some struggle, but I learnt to use a paralyzing agent to render
them motionless. Sedated only tears fall from there suspended
features. I never clean up there mess, I'm not a house maid for
goodness sakes all must be as it was. But I clean up my killing
venture so there is no evidence of there parting here.

I have a little spot, we all have our own hiding places,
research is the key, and mine was a secluded place....
I cant explain where, as that would be telling and who
knows who's reading these passages. I must admit though
this is a full time obsession, "norms, that's you people.
Wouldn't realize the stresses that happen upon my psyche.

All I would say is
                 "Don't quite your day job
This isn't really a hobby for most, they don't have the
patience the needing of planning and the waiting of
who shall gift you their last moment then nothingness.
I am wired different to you people. My empathy for
your feelings is non-existent, we are a moment in time
and I plan to silence your hour glass, your grain is about
to fall into oblivions sights and it will swallow you whole.

I don't sugar coat
                        ****,

Cos that would be gross
    

I just tell you how it is...

We can not outrun a donut rolling downward..
That’s why losing weight is an uphill struggle.

But donuts can’t run up a hill, only fall behind.

Doors open doors closed some
open to happiness others to
misery untold.

We may keep the door closed
never seeing what changes
what are decision may unfold.

But doors that are opened, some
times a surprise, same times
happiness that wouldn't have
been found if left that door left
closed.

There are doors opened, there
are some doors that are for
reasons to the person left
closed.

But to each they must choose
if they want to open or leave
it closed.

For doors are many
      and each one has no lock.
For gods are words of the mind
           unkept delusions of mans past.

We need to unlock the humanity
  of ourselves and see we aren't
           just one,
we are in fact the many
                       that make the whole.

Knowledge is the key that opens
                                 our potential,
not to bend on knees like
                        slaves to nothingness...

Are lives are like follow the
dots, like painted by numbers,
are whole life are world is nearly
always selected out. We don't pick
what we want, its connected from
birth, where we live to what are
parents have done, dots connected
from number one.

Our lives are colored in this color
for our never changing life, mapped
out for what we want, but is there
away to make a change. To not
connect the dots to color are live a
different way.

How about instead of dot one to two
we connect randomly make life
different from what other want it
to be. we color by thought not by
numbers thought by others who
want are to turn out color are life
instead with fun.

We must paint our lives the way we
wish it to be, not  to be connected
as others see, we are our own person
where it was Grey bright Red with
a dash of Green, instead of a sheep
of dots, lets just have a picture made
the way we want it to be not drawn
by other live how we want to be.

I parked in her
          At the weekend.

But this time, I noted that
Some one had grit salted
    The other parking spot.

This place was getting over
used and double parked.
      And I wasn't sharing.

Who knows how many
   Times they parked in
                  My spot.

So I never parked in
                    Her again.

Doubt enters creeps
in like ivy creeping
on my mind, do my
words grow on others
or do they die.

Writing helps me express
myself, can they inspire
others with word, or are
my words to be forgotten.

I have reached a point do
my words mean anything
should I put down the pen
and never carry on..

People forget that
                         love rhymes
only carry you so long,
                    along a reparative flow..
            But I venture on the
waves of varied flow..

Do I care if you get ******
                       below my riptide..  
never connecting upon my
                 differential flow of wording.
Drowning  within my varied view of a world
                           that isn't flowers they
fell into my ocean and got dragged into
       oblivion long before you learnt to swim.

The moods of others are fickle,
                      but I'm not a trend,
I'm a tsunami of reality...
That's not constricted to the lullabies of others as
they drown within my words....
                others fade
                   but I'm still here dragging you out...

Dragon upon the scales
Of age, shimmering upon
Glistening moon beams,

Your breath the life of
A thousand stars, cleansing
All that are touched.

You are of purity & fire of
Sin & ash, whisper suns,
& the world is embers of dust.

If I'm  the drag would you be

                                          my queen?


Yes I maybe a bit of a drama queen,

    but we know

who sits on the throne..

I took more time on my hair,
         than you did on your make up.

But you know that all my time is  yours.

I may be a drag,
but we know who hold the title of beauty.

    I'm just the ***** and your the lady,

              be my woman and ill always love you.

And I'll never drag you down,


                                           but lift you higher up.

If blood doesn't seep
                from my wrists,
am in not alive..
Or has all feeling just
                 drained from me.

My veil was
               inconspicuous,
       never showing
that behind each drape of lies,
                                holds a truth.

Would I dream of you,
  Your face entomed within
Me, like a bird caged but free.

I dream of you,
But the emotional turmoil
Leaves you blurry within.

I never wished to lumber upon
       You, better that I let this
Dream do as others, fade away.

On the plains of forgotten dreams a wondering
Night terror awoke, its sluggish motion once
Dormant but it had its banshee howls reverberated
upon the old stained thoughts that grew.

Always reaching for a purpose, but the wail shattered
Them into pools of liquid fantasy evaporating into
Nothing so long they had they grown now they were
But as forgotten as all in the land. dream now awoke.

Blinded by darkness it succumb to primal fears, ripping
Upon a daydream now scarred in thought. The forest
Of dreams growing to bear fruit in minds yet to see,
Now bleed tears liquid terror as it screamed.

A dream walker happened upon the ether that radiated
So, perpetual mist gathered around. It screamed and
To knees pushed upon, a dream catcher worn charred
By the breath of fear so strong. on feet once again stood.

Words whispered, as layers wisped in to the impressions
Changing essence like leaves falling. Like a melody they
Washed over, cleansing the fears that blanketed its un-awoken
Motions on the land. And still it became, its true form shaped.

A child yearning self, a fear gripped upon Its subconscious,
Needing to hear its mind, afflicted that which would not let
It awaken to the realms of reality. But trapped in darkness
Within ones self, and he raised his hands over and sang.

"Little one of light, grasping on night tainted touch,
"Free is your dream, no terrors touch on you tonight,
Slumber in peace, no other fear shall greet you this night,

Awake little one, and faded into realities grasp did this
Little one glide. The night terrors are dormant creatures
Who's howl signals fear in this realm. But I will be here
To guild those who scream into fear of the night.

On the bow the bouquet of moonlight essence  
was caressing over the sails as they were displaced
by solar winds.

Dusk only visited when were perched behind
the veil of a moon ready to pillage unsuspecting
cargo vessels.

Pirate ***** was our goal, to taste the thrill of the
heist as we loaded up her hold with things of
our wildest dreams.

Then I awoke, the seas rough and blustery,
Captain I had the weirdest dream
                                   "5 mins later,
Walking the plank I looked back.
wishing I could just float into that place.

*"What did they call it again? Space,

I drank way to much vocabulary
before my eager eyes needed to
dilute the intake of my surroundings.

Into slumbered inspired visions,
that would play on my thoughts repetitively,
like a cracked analogue song skipping.

But still I awake in darkness, needing
to release the effluence of what was
indulged upon earlier. That visage a
delusion of  slide show moments.
I felt the bed its wet,
                        I didn't make it in time.

Blind verses wet on the sheets, my hand
was in it, I gag... And then see that its
a mirage of what was drunk upon.
It had to come out at some time.
But 3am couldn't I control my expulsion.
                        Instead I sit here in sodden verse.

As I wash my sheets, not the first time or
the last. I take heed.. not to drink so much
before I go to bed, because white sheets are
now grey. So many words kept on other layers,
these ones just inevitably washed away.

Pushin my baby on the swing each one way,
        Bullets passing the wind not punching
me and my baby. But the fools be running
like they could outrun fate.

They can't escape the crosshairs of
  ill-prepared revenge.  
    Cadavers hit the floor blood outlines
that turn white after they felled.

I kept pushing my youth, hoping
she'd grow to an age where she
           could push her own.

But every day I playing Russian
   roulette with her swinging,
    me pushing her further so that
she's higher than the gunshots


          as they always hitting lower.

Today I was pushing her, she in her nikes,
     swinging her higher than death could
catch her tight grip...

But my neighbor she hanging low, catching
two unfollowed friend requests  flying through
the air, one in the thigh, one between the thoughts,

I kept pushing as her shadow swallowed by her
folding on the floor, her baby swinging slower
but still alive.

         Blue took her to her daddy, hope they
find out who they are as she had more than
           one by another man...


I m still here pushing my baby on a silent playground.
      No one comes here, that's good for me.
   pushing her low as there isn't a problem
of drive-bye byes... No more *******, no one to ****.
                  There is just me and my baby pushing..


Come on baby its time to go home,
                 the road is white, and we aren't
going to our usual place...


R.I.P to those who never didn't do nothing.
          


Another drive-by, grills smiling as flashes
greeting shaded window frames,
                                          hanging low.

Breathless pauses coincide
        to waiting in fruitless
        endeavours.
        An inability to
        move forward,
                              traffic jam.

The poet that didnt know but wish he did,
wanted words to flow like a river,
but the river bed had evaporated like
the ideas in his mind.

Wanting, needing the thought to manifest
on paper just one word or letter,
would make him proud.

But alas there were clouds where there was
sunshine and the ideas were not raining down,
for there was a drought in his mind.

Just needing a few droplets of thought,
of imagination to gently hit the ground,
to let his thoughts flow once again
down the stream of poetry and write again
once more making the paper proud.

If words could weep,  
           mine would be rivers

And the sentences would be
           a deluge on my

emotions.

We all drown,
but its our choice
   which tide we try to

fight against.

How will we drown...

You were the drought
  and I was the rain that
was going to drown you out.

But you swam like you depended
                on the earth to hold you.

Never letting you hold ground
              cos I took it from under you.

No discipline to hold you like gravity,
        the only thing you'll be doing is sinking..
  

Bottom of the bay, where all wasted things
                sink too, you may take a while.

But believe me you'll end up where the rest
               sank.

Shrink wrapped with
        stones of regret on ya
             ankles of missteps.

When you dried out I was the oasis
                   of plentiful rhyme.

you tried to steal from my fountain
   but i held you under till you drowned.

And as long as no one knows where you
  were ship wrecked, you'll be a drought
in a sea of plentiful moisture
                                    that i drink upon.

I hang on to an I it is the letter that
Keeps me afloat. I am drowning
In letters words are pulling me
Down, I nearly choke on a lower
Case o but like a polo I swallow it
Hard but whole.

Z is caught on my foot tangled
In the a word formed from those
Floating in this sea of thought.
I look beneath the waves, as a U
Gets trapped around my throat,
I gasp for air grabbing a J to ease
This letter getting tighter on my throat.

It feels though hours have past as
Time floats by aging the words as
It drifts on. I fear I may drown in
This sea of letters of random words
Of thought.

But I see light it floats through
The sky, higher case letters brings
More definition to the word as
Brighter than the lower case it was
Before. I see where I need to be a
Island of word I swim to its shore.

Safe from this sea of confusion of
Separate word, on this Island the
Waters flow as words, and my
Thoughts now cleared no longer
Drowning in a sea of letters that
Wash upon the shore as words..

I weep a thousand tears yet they
never touch the earth.

They dwell within myself, not
falling trickling upon my soul.

For if they were to collect in the
stream they descended from.

My soul would surely drown,
and I would be submerged in sorrow

Within lagoons its sins did
feed upon its perception,
                  Churning in a vacuum
                   of malevolent damnation.
Its singular words corrupted
white satin, soiled by its pestilence.
                   Like lacerations upon the substance
                      it lingered like vines consuming.
A soul drowned within pools of scarlet death
Malignant smiles on a polluted husk.