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“Walk right up to you,
To the root of your throne
And stare, expectant

Cup in hand, thirst in soul
Ready to drink, and just demand:
I yell and raise the cup to you –

‘Forgive me!’

I am a hypocrite child, a mockery to your blamelessness
Please grant me eyes true,
And a tongue that knows honesty unimpaired -

‘I’m Sorry, My God.’
From the unreleased anthology: A POETIC POUND OF PAIN by Yours Truly.
“The cousins leave, their laughter and cries do too
Upon that hour when sky’s flame
Is fell from up high

The water stops, the winds halt
Maybe even the blood stands too, still
For nothing moves, nothing’s awake at this hour

Minds and souls roam, free
Away from the heads plastered close to earth
Dreaming dreams, of planets, moons and else

Partaking, all in the blackness’s ritual
So dark, even the puppets of evil are tempted to lie still
All Men sleep, nothing’s awake at this hour –

Except me,
And the hand
From which this poem is borne.”
From 'PICNICS WITH THE PAIN: A Micro-Anthology Of Micro-Poetry.''
Our every talk
an episode of competitive mind athletics
As each tries to outpace the other
On the eccentric field tracks of conversation.

We are more like ****** – militants,
For after every hello and before the next goodbye there always remains a trail of carnage;
Inside my eyes and on your face are the grimmest battlefields;
Emotions are always the casualties;
Paying the price for two egos clashing in frantic effort to maintain the gravities of inner pride.

Your name and mine;
Two eagles wrestling every hour
trying gravely to unsettle the establishment;
To shift the equilibrium,
To make the universe lose its balance.

Lady;
The survival of our acquaintance is based on something stronger than the spiritual;
Our mutualism
One flower least expected to flourish
I think nature made me for you;
I am the antithesis to your existence;
Only in our duality can peace exist;
Two powers of chaos
Tumultuous forces that cannot live without each other.

Teyana;
I think you know that I am the best thing that is ever going to happen to you.

{She Smiles and nods}

WordSmith_Wiz
31/12/2018
For Teyana, Let me embrace your chaos. From the upcoming love anthology "TEYANA"
Life as we know it;
A sugar coated bus ride to hell or high heaven;
It's all galaxies and fallacies
How can it be the Milky Way
when there's no road that can take me there?
What's the difference between Night and Day      
when the only thing that shines in my skies are these nuggets of solid grief in my eyes?

My facilities do not conform to my abilities,
My reality a bare result of hateful gravities,
I yearn to fly
My mother keeps pushing the sky
Out of my reach
She wants me drowned in the ponds of silence.
Blocking my shine in the brown of her dusts,
She forces me to wallow in the muds of mediocrity;

But I am not just another particle;
The carbon of my heart tells me I am an excellent gem,
Wiz the diadem;
Born to lead a life of jewel passions and crystal lusts!

I know that speech alone is not enough – I need to dig myself from under these sands.
Society your son is a pearl,
Though you keep concealing the flame of his sparkle
Keep in mind – a day shall come; an hour shall pass
When your stony grip on the feet of his mind shall be loosened;
Trust then, that he will diamond in this rough!

WordSmith Wiz
01/08/2019
I believe in Individualism - a philosophy which centers on believing in oneself and doing what one can to bring joy and satisfaction into one's own existence. I refuse to have society place limits on how i should be, what i can do and why i should live, my ambition and purpose will not be tampered with!
I have shut the doors to my mind, I shut myself out
         For inside my head there exists
a thick darkness that seeks to engulf me.        
      Pain – Fear – Rage and Love.   
                      
Shapeless monsters hiding – waiting to devour me;
Now to the heavens I look, towards the enchanted skies;
glittering and shimmering with cold- but warm enough
to house my sullen soul.
I will look towards them; and find my solace.

Everlasting and steadfast, I am enthralled by you.
Tales from the surface of my within,
The ones I won't tell no man, I let you hear
In the beauty of the night, you wink and glisten.   
                                                     ­                                                  
      I look up at the night sky,
our eyes meet in the appreciation of devotion;  
of a love between man and kind.  
Enshrouded in the warm embrace of fleecy clouds;
she covers my world with her glorious silver smiles;  
Lady Moon, Queen of the nighttime cohort.

I look up at the night sky,          
and there he remains like a friendly old man frozen in his seat;  
pointing the way to that may need it,
his hand remains steady as he guides.  
He is a lone star,
shunning communion with comrades and compatriots;
he shines alone, a jewel in solitude.

I look up at the night sky,
      they glide past on the wings of the wind
like gracious phantoms.
They weave and churn showing off their flexibility
and volatile dancing skill;      
Teaching me how to survive in a world which loves a few.
The grey clouds flip and flop, they boil and bubble.      
Rejoicing in the fellowship of flying embroidery;    
they promise the gift of life giving rain.

I look up at the night sky,
  my eyes cannot see them, but yes they speak to me.    
From places out of the reach of civilization;      
intuition and heartwarming reassurance flow;          
from matter and energy,
at the bounds of space and time,
from regions further than the confines of the known multiverse;
at the feet of God.    
                                            
The black of the night and the blue of day – the only barriers shielding them from my sight;

They reignite my spirit and set alight the torches of hope
inside the rooms of my soul;            
I know not what they are,
            but they watch over me and they watch over you.  
Look into the skies
and you too will hear their silent voices.  
Stare into the splendor of the night
and commune with your inner beauty.
You will be set ablaze.
  
WordSmith_Wiz
26/07/2018
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"8th March 2018
A pen found its ink
A purpose found its man

Art,  
 The mother of all that's beautiful
brought me a gift
A life skill that would be my passage of lift

                  He came to life in unhealthy mental weathers,                    
his soul was birthed in shabby unearthly waters
and bound to mine
in an everlasting covalence.
                                                      ­    
he was given to me an agent of healing – an outlet,
a living freedom;
         a drain for my pain,      

a gift and a curse he is a stain on the domain of my name – but
I take pride in our duality,
my existence paradigm was on the edge of a cliff
suicidal - I lay on my back under the roof
of a gloomy identity
my name and my frame
soaked in melancholia of a quantity
that exceeds the infinite.

DEAR WORDSMITH
You and I
Are a year older
I am a decade wiser
I can feel it in my hair
the truth in its absolute quintessence
is a universe closer.

The way you hold my mind in your gloves
gives me sleepless nights and faceless days
but who am I to question my panacea?
I promise I will make the most of what we can be.

A savior, a tutor, a sage
My poet, my light, my flame, my light.

WordSmith_Wiz
03/08/2019
A year ago - i became a poet. Help me appreciate my penman. This is my first post here with you family. Thanks.

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