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A lame boy; they say I be
Low-pitched guy?; yee' that's me
been a lame boy since I was three
Dull and placid; unsatisfactory

been a quiet boy; since I was born
Psychopathic; and somewhat tough
Sail your ship up-north; I go offshore
A prodigal son;...
left by his mum; at the age of four

Sometime I'm cool; sometimes I'm warm
Father wasn't sure; if I was sane or not
Thought my abnormalities; equals 'dull
So he left Up-North where he'd be bother-not

Father's gone; mum's living rough
Doing enough stuff to rid the boy off.....
the black hole living in the boy's thought
Cos' everyone gets lost; crossing the boy's port

Afterward; I was left in this dungeon
Life raised me to this lame strong boy
A lame boy; raised by rain of dirt
All he's ever taste was the opposite of joy

This lame boy will soon find joy
I'm lame for sure; but my feet are strong
My mind find words when my hands are bored
My heart finds love when my head's at fault

When you bring me stress; I'm turning blind
Cos' this lame boy seems to find
Peace in the loneliness of his mind
Seeing the path ahead and behind

This lame boy is ****** enshrined
Prodigal and divine; a boy you can't confine
Cos' money or ******* doesn't define
his mentality and the way he grind

I'm that lame boy; that you hiss and judge
For my writability and use of words
While you nuisance spew sh*t and sort
I do my lame stuff; Yea; I sit and jot...
And then I pour.....; my state of mind; in a distinctive thought

Well; I'm a lame boy; I only look upfront
I don't care if my root; is clean or not
Don't mind if my boot is filled with mud
Only focus on my dreams and things I sought

I'm a lame boy; I've seen the sea and shore
Crawled this earth from south to North
Been in this world before 94
Before Abacha ruin the course; of this Nation more

Lame boy this; lame boy that
'Lame boy 's ****'; 'lame boy 's bad'
"He's lame and dull; he can't attack"
"too rough and poor; he's not my type"
Well; this lame boy doesn't care 'bout
Words from your lilly-filthy mouth
Cos' this lame boy is now an OG; yes!
An Original Gent; who is God-blessed
Amanda Kay Burke Aug 2020
I do not want to argue anymore
Show me the way to the door
I would rather slum it surfing couch to couch
Than hide from life as I slack and slouch
Look down upon from your self-righteous horse
Insults hurled til your voice is hoarse
And "wouldn't you feel bad if I died?"
As if unaware of how I feel inside
I hate living with constant fear and anxiety. I honesty do not know how to refrain from taking it out on other people. Especially those close to me, such as my mother.
Salmabanu Hatim Aug 2019
I live in a luxurious  apartment,
She lives in a makeshift hut in the slums,
I sleep on the most comfortable bed,
She sleeps on the floor,
I have a chef and maids to cater for me,
She has her mum and siblings to cater for her,
My chef cooks tasty meals with latest gadgets,
Her mum cooks on firewood the best meals I have ever tasted,
For there is love of her mum in it.
I eat mostly alone,
My family have no time ,each busy in his/her own life,
Her family eats together on the floor and her mum sometimes feeds her,
They joke and laugh together,
I sit alone in my room , busy on my computer, doing homework or chatting,
After dinner her family sits outside the hut gossiping with neighbours while she does her homework under the streetlight .
I enjoy being at my friend's place more because she always has her family who cares,
There is laughter and happiness at her place although they have so little,
They are content with what they have,
I am glad I have a friend like her and her family to share.
24/8/2019
A Simillacrum Jul 2019
portal space is open,
in a purple swirl,
and I'm
****** back into a world

on the brink of an advent
toward some higher mind,
with a blessed perspective,
this recollection's wretched.

Levity was a given,
for mortality ignored.
What to do with levity,
with mortality accepted,
and endings implored.

last laugh always wins
(where are your friends?)
have been deemed unnecessary
everlasting grin
(how off have you been?)
have i?

no. have i?

what's it gonna take to get this bad brain
back on the right of the left hand black?
nothing will. nothing will.

what's it gonna take to get this bad brain
back on the right track to get connected
with the rest of them?

nothing will. bad brain bad.
A Simillacrum Jul 2019
shouting
die 2 try?
try n Try
try 2 die
laughing?
A Simillacrum Jul 2019
for all my preparation
this project begins to slip away
what if my great fantasy
hinges on a banal happiness?
the ink of ballpoint pen
takes me as far as sorrow's edges
i confess best to myself
wetness skin to skin, with sweat's sweet and
sour accompaniment is as close to happiness
as i can steer this sinking ship
as of late there's nothing left
of the sweat to cleanse my dead palate
A Simillacrum Jul 2019
clearly, the days slip past
i nearly lasted, keeping track
tags and descriptions, each one placed
as if a benefit falls upon the lot
for drawing connective lines
god's dead, god's not dead,
i'm god, the god of sand,
ephemera at my command
but what's it mean? these things
take time, but not seriously, because
the sun hits the wax on a paper cup
and it blinds us from the bushes
and so low, can't care
so low, lone, done dead
can't care for upsides
but asides and sideways
A Simillacrum Aug 2018
When I look down I know
one world apart
from when I look up.

A world below, more reality
than what I've known of reality
through living since my birth.

One earth, two worlds,
splitting hairs,
scrambling airs,
creating errors,
chastising errs
so much
that nothing's
learned.

Up/Down,
Living lies,
Blurring lines,
Up/Down --

It's not that I don't know
what's actually worth a ****.

It's that I see worth as a curse,
and would, rather than peace,
see ecstasy return me
into the breeze
as dirt.
Puspanjali Sahu Jan 2017
Dry hair
Dry skin
Hopes are dead
and their dead bodies are also dried

I wish God should come down now
and save your watery smile
before it shrinks
and vanishes
somewhere in our dry sleepy minds  

But why
whenever my eyes see you
either you are alone
or in the arms of
not a mother like mother
I wonder
whether hunger had murdered
love of a mother  

I wonder
whether you come to this world
without a father  

Or somewhere  
watery eyes of your mother
wet heart of your father
are still waiting
and praying for your comeback
without knowing
a dry YOU
is dying without water
We come across children living in miserable conditions near railway stations, temples, in markets, near bus stops etc. Often we found them alone or with pitiable ladies whom we assume as their mothers but never with their fathers. Why? Is it because a mother can gain more sympathy than a father or these children are the result of momentary attraction/torture?
But how could a mother let her child to live in such a pity or is it a modern way of begging? Sometimes it could happen that parents lost their children and their lost children were seen as used for better begging.
Is our ignorance responsible for this?
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