Trigger warningVery disturbing Dear sir, I write to you at a time when Bloodshed has become a trending hashtag. When genocide is another word for good morning. When a mosquito bite has resulted in a bird flu and the bird owner has been quarantined. "The bird should be discarded" you decree. On its wings it conveyed passion, ideas and businesses. A confidant, a pillar it has become. A pillar of support no government parastatal offered. I write that you reconsider for from my little knowledge, no one can cage a bird. It is meant for the skies so let it fly. Yours faithfully, a very lazy youth.
Nigerian government has banned Twitter. I say this with my two hands covering my face in shame. While deaths are occurring thanks to terrorism, all he can think of is banning Twitter because his tweets were deleted.
Wood burns from blue flames Air drawn in does change Prepared for events to unfold Stationary held for take off Past the count of numbers out Breathing easier now A transient being announced Green lady elevates state Orange eyes merge, lights diverge Lifted into what seems to be A tunnel of colourful multiple Vs Pleasant fate when identity dissipates No pain, no pressures, no claims Just white space Until pulled back into this place To live a life again
Lights or darks To break a glass, I’m worth on it and not in the droll, To depart from the bed in black the one who Addresses themselves to overtake their self and become in a rave, Violin string works at ease; Give me a gulp of the Moon to crash to my side, to crack in ecstasy of me inside. I’ve put up enough with walking perfect like the porcelain.
A translation of a spontaneity of Poetry with French on the images of the dark, fumes, grey, space as a physical trait and instruments from a picture prompt for short letters
Lueurs ou sombres Un verre casser, J’en vaux et pas en drôle, Partir du lit noir celui qui S’adresse à s’envahir et être un délire Fil de violon travaille à l’aise: Donnez-moi un coup de la lune pour m’en écraser et m’en crever, J’en ai marre marcher parfait comme la porcelaine
A spontaneity of Poetry with French on the images of the dark, fumes, grey, space as a physical trait and instruments from a picture prompt for short letters
I'm daring to Glimpse Perceive Barely stand on my own feet What shoes am I going to wear Is it blue, red, nor green? Don't feel the heaviness of my feet But everything fit immaculately to my verity sheet Ach, Are these really the colors of my being? Well... They say emotions really fades away I don't know now Cause I heard the eternal aura whispers coming through my thoughts Or is it just my own whispering sound? Oh God I can't speak Nor find the root in me Water me I must water me I want to see the flowers of my soul I want to feel the existence in me There's a black sky But only to feed the earth's feet A dashed black color in me Coming through every breath I take while I speak
It feels like the skin has been stripped from my body, Like I am a raw house unable to contain this feeling. Sounds are dissonant and salt to the wound. My synapses are buzzing through every tissue. I am so whole and yet so incomplete, Angry, electrified, and scared. This body of mine does not feel like a habitat. It is more like a zoo enclosure. I wonder when people will stop gawking at me Like I am some caged animal. I am wild. I am easily provoked when afraid. Please do not tap the class. Please do not feed the animals. Leave me where the ground cries out in anguish For the blood of my psyche shed in the tall grass. I was not made for this. I am not a performer in some circus, some exotic parade. They have stripped me of my skin, And this body does not feel like home anymore.
Anxiety and excitement are one of the same Research for an answer to analyse traits For the loss of another can be someone's gain A vicious cycle with which to attain Stressed from such pressures Soften your edges to lighten your weight All in a state but we all hesitate Widen perspective and encompass ourselves When life skills aren't taught Are we really at fault or who is to blame Personal perception distinguishes choice Critical thought strengthens one's voice A softer approach is often dismayed Where are your heroes when you reach of an age Admiration compels to find your own way
Don't you know Am slipping away My thoughts are numb I exist Or am I just existing Life is a blur . with most things blotted out I can't fight my way . Through this with just a mask. I need to feel human touch .. A hand shake .a hug .a smile. I can't survive . without connection I need to connect . Socialize for my mental state I feel deep anguish Feeling isolation Cut off I don't feel the same God 🙏 where are you In this awful pandemic I need to know . Please raise me some hope I am but a human being Trapped alone in all this despair Show me Lord send me a sign .that it will all work out .