TIME HAS COME
TO PUT ON OUR SKIN OF COURAGE
TO BE THE FIRSTS
UNTIL THERE ARE NO MORE FIRSTS
NO MORE LEFT BEHINDS
UNTIL OUR QUANTITY PARS QUALITY

THE RACE IS ON
LET’S OPEN OUR EYES
OUR MINDS UNBIASED
TO THE MANY OPPORTUNITIES
THOSE VAST POSITIVITIES

YES WE CAN
BE BOLD
SO LET’S USE OUR VOICES

YES WE CAN
BE INSPIRED AND INSPIRE
TO BE BIGGER
TO DREAM FRESHER

YES WE CAN
BE FEARLESS
SO OUR DAUGHTERS CAN BE LIMITLESS

YES WE CAN

ON OUR MARKS

GET SET

LET’S GO

BE BOLD FOR CHANGE

                                © Belema .S. Ekine

Come with me
I said with glee
I'll take you to bed
Or we'll kiss instead

She agreed to the former
But it didn't seem to warm her
In fact, she seemed sad
Was I that bad?

It ended short
For we were keen to abort
And she ran away madly
Perhaps even gladly

Not really worth a dime
And I think next time
In search of better joy
I’ll pay for a boy

If I'm being honest with myself,
I'd first have to admit that I'm not as brave as I put out to be
I pretend that I hate hugs when in reality,
It isn't the hug I hate but being so close that people could read the language of my insecurities

If I'm being completely honest with myself,
I'd have to admit that I crave intimacy with another soul but fear vulnerability
So with my lips I say "I'm chilling" while my heart is asking "where is he?"

If I'm being completely honest with myself,
I'd have to admit that I don't just fall in love with looks but I fall in love with souls full of flaws and I fall harder for eyes, a smile and a brain that'll put the sun and stars to shame

If I'm being completely honest with myself,
I'd have to admit that I'm pulled by people I can't have so I settle for being a friend who really is a stranger because if I were to really be honest with myself, I'd admit that my friends don't know me because I hide behind the jokes and advice I give

If I was being honest with myself,
I'd have to admit that I want to have a conversation with someone who understands and loves me for my mind and old soul.
If they loved my body that would be a plus too.

Finally, if I were to be honest with myself,
I crave a friendship so deep I could pray with a sister after she done put me in check.
Someone who understands that we don't always have to dress up with makeup and can just hang.
Not a superficial friendship.

There is lots of fear

of death.

Men are scared

of a black-hooded man.

And the ones

that already left us

thought away from death

they had ran.

Someone once told me that life is just a series of moments,
that the past is merely a story we tell ourselves before we fall asleep.
And so I look at him and I am reminded that I am not who I was a moment ago,
and that I shouldn't try to be.
I fear a reality of fiction and distortion,
where my life is a blurry foreign film and he is the fourth wall,
always broken.
I have written of lovers and their seemingly intangible hands for so long that my concept of time is impressionable,
one might even call it sacrilegious.
I have bled dry every metaphor capable of embodiment that I wonder if it ever meant anything,
I wonder if anything ever will.

I want to write him into a scripture of meaning, of something other than illustrated angish.
I want to write about something that isn't love,
that isn't a thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to.
I want to write about the way he leads me into rock pools,
like a child being baptized.

I look at him and I am reminded of the ocean,
as if his blood can only move in waves without devotion,
more like instinct.
I want to write about something that isn't love,
because this is more like inspiration.
This is not knowing what could possibly come after his tide falls back.

I am aware that literature always ruins the ending,
that finishing a book mid sentence is the only way to avoid the loss of its final words.
I am aware that beautiful things can never stay,
but maybe that's what makes them beautiful.
He is a picture of my perfect faith,
but he doesn't make me want to believe in religion,
because I know god hates the competition.

For so long I had thought that I was never going to feel anything new,
that I had exceeded the depth of emotions,
like anything that follows can only be a lesser version of something previously felt,
but here I gawk with a mouthful of blasphemous teeth.

I couldn't tell you about the snowstorm he evokes within my chest,
nor the locust plague that raid in his name.
Because this is not a love story,
at least not just yet.
This is a man that has grown roots where I have only planted seeds,
a man that scripts his stories on the soles of his feet.
*And so I look at him,
and I am reminded that I am not who I was a moment ago,
and that I shouldn't try to be.

The truth is very simple.
Our world desires hate.
It will tell you lies inside of truths,
It will smile while it manipulates
It craves the swords on our tongues,
and the stings from our fists.
It feeds us hope while we're young
just to give us knives to cut our wrists.
It tells you to be positive,
while throwing daggers of misfortune at your feet.
It laughs when you're broken,
and whispers to you words of your defeat.
It will want to be your friend
just for the purpose of destroying you
Lifting up all your hopes and dreams,
then making sure you never follow through.
Man plays an awfully risky game,
Where your life is the thing put at stake.
And if you don't play your cards just right,
that's exactly what the world will take.
So, when the world is pulling triggers,
and you think that it's too late,
remember what God gave us,
and know that your love can conquer hate.

by Arcassin Burnham


If trust is highly cautious nowadays then i should really stop the act,
if fake is fake and real is real then please don't let the opposites attract,
people wanting more than friends that care about themselves and then turn their backs,
but i just need a friend that would be as loyal as the **** on a camels back,
so why don't you just,
spare me the pity and,
fall out the back door with,
too many colors of,
your true intentions its,
not my fault that i'm just,
one of the good ones yes,
one of the true ones yes,
one of the loyal ones yes...

but from you i need more assurance yes,


Dealt with more fake people than the great wall had intruders that attacked,
In these days i'd rather be alone in this room writing all a bunch of facts,
To a man that has no reputation piercing through the traffic for a crash,
to have a friend would be delightful but people always leave and never come back,
so why don't you just,
spare me the pity and,
fall out the back door with,
too many colors of,
your true intentions its,
not my fault that i'm just,
one of the good ones yes,
one of the true ones yes,
one of the loyal ones yes...

but from you i need more assurance yes.

I could have any kind of conversation
With any kind of man
But the ones we want to talk to us
Never, ever do
They all stop in the end.
They all vanish like it was pretend.

The sun moves through the sky so quickly,
and you sit there and look, while the moon rises swiftly.
But the friend of the Gods, still can't call on the rain.
He cannot do a thing he couldn't even destroy young Cain.
A gun in the hand of a one eyed man,
destroys any dreams of the half minded lamb.
Removing so many of the mice you called men,
destroying the oath made from the princes demand.
Killing the things that desire only life,
to dress the rich men in clothes from the sacrificed.
Why evil men? Do you know what you've lost?
The trust of the people. Has this ever been worth the cost?
Luckily, this is all that's been told, we have to write the story.
We'll write it alone, correctly for us, write it in gold, and write our glory.

Walking on the water, running away,
from the golden calf that you built today.

Cannot sleep at night cause your sharing a bed,
while you spider conscience dies in its own web.

Things don't change, you know its not true,
the only thing that stays the same is hidden in you.

You seek out treasure and surely will find,
a treasure chest of truth buried underneath lies.

You seek out freedom cause its not in his eyes,
but its so far away is it worth your demise?

Wolves jumping up sprouting their wings,
and your on the ground thinking through things.

A golden horse approaches and asked for a ride,
you said hop on, and where do we fly.

We learn to walk on frozen toes,
but you cant learn any flowers except a rose.