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 May 2015 teriyakimandi
E
Shadows circle their captors without ever finding an exit. There isn't really a way out, but it's never stopped me from searching. I live under puddles of rainwater and in window reflections. Everything's backwards, so it makes more sense. Here time is slowed down and no one ever leaves. You never have to feel too much and not enough all at once. Your train of thought can be traced and you can always find your way back to the place you started. I don't know where I belong, if anywhere at all, but I have found a temporary home where I can rest my bones. I won't come up for air until I have to.
I don't really like this. Maybe I will later.
It's getting better, you get me?
your eyes though ex-directory
reflect me.

I see it in the looking through of several thousand telephone books that you are hung up on me, see
it's getting better, you get me?

The longer distance call just means there's more that I can fall and when I fall there's always that distant call, the ex-directory that means you're getting to me, you get me.

Ringing my number, with those eyes that tell me, come to bed forget about slumber, the ex of the ex-directory rumba,
you get me now and how you get me,
wow.
I want to trend
Not in modern but in the good ancient my friend
I want a candle; candles up an earthen chandelier
I'm tired of the tick tack of the modern switch
I want the moon and stars like life was earlier
I'm done with bulbs which when old start to twitch
I want a type writer to capture what I write in my book
I'm tired of computers where all I do's Facebook
I want to revert to the quiet life of my ancestors
I want the warmth of watching the stars
I want to eat beef steamed in Earthenware
Beef with the touch of smoke and of love and care
I'm tired of the modern meat whose source is never clear
I want a meal served hot on her knees complemented by millet beer
I want a home, a real home with an artful grass thatched house
A traditional home with a hound for me and a cat in case of any Mouse
I'm fed up of the modern roofs which roast as if we're pork
I want an affair that's free of silly social media talk
I want a place she and I can have peaceful evening walks
And her eyes not having to watch out for cars
I want someone simple enough to pride in her scars
Open and proud of her weaknesses,one laughter sincerely chokes
I want someone whose thighs will be warm hidden
Someone who won't dare do the forbidden
Not one who'll go at dusk and return at dawn
I want not a queen for that will make me her pawn
Someone who'll give me a massage,not send me to the parlors
One who's content and natural, not painted in colors
Who’ll together with me do laundry, not a laundry machine
I want someone who'll be contented with the little beard on my chin
I want a life like that of my grand father
Small family, moderate success, a wife who isn't a bother
I want a simple life that will give even my enemies peace
I want Africa; I want a bit of my heritage, just a piece
I want that life frozen in sphinx and sculpture
I want to busk in the glory of African culture
Under a meridian moon,



That silvers the shroud of night,



My fingers map the contours of you.



And in this safe harbour of limbs



Two polar opposites conjoin.



Magnetic fields pulling us close



Navigating the other’s shores.



Taking me from valley to mountain,



Parallel lines now fused together



And the world bows down to us,



Our love bursts open like flowers in the sun.



And we float on tranquil waters



Light, so light, no orientation.



Motionless, trembling, helpless.



And within the tremulous radiance,



We return to scale.



From the zenith of my love,



I want to be a cartographer,



To represent a special concept.



And depict this phenomenon onto paper,



Giving you the legend and the key,



And draw you a map to the stars.
 May 2015 teriyakimandi
K
S P A C E
 May 2015 teriyakimandi
K
Today,
We                                                     are                                                             like
                       these                                                     words
apart                                              discrete­                                                   isolated

and the only thing that we can bring each other back
is to eliminate the spaces in between.
 May 2015 teriyakimandi
Devon
I found myself stuttering yesterday...
clumsily tripping, fumbling,
over words.
The explanation of my whereabouts -
in question.
Like a guilty child.

Awareness then anger emerge.
irritated, indignant hostility.
That I would allow this again -
over and over and over again…

Trying to account for every moment beneath suspicious eyes. Groundless guilt rising up, as I choke, words broke and unspoke

- while the little voice in my head screams "I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING WRONG!"
conditioned (kənˈdɪʃənd)  adj
1. (Psychology) psychol of or denoting a response that has been learned. Compare unconditioned
2. (foll by to) accustomed; inured; prepared by training

un·con·di·tioned (ŭn′kən-dĭsh′ənd)  adj
1. (Psychology) psychol characterizing an innate reflex and the stimulus and response that form parts of it. Compare conditioned1
2. (Philosophy) metaphysics unrestricted by conditions; infinite; absolute
3. without limitations; unconditional
I'm hers, undeniably,
But I'm afraid to make her mine.
I'm too comfortable by myself
So I fail to give her time.
A better man will make her his,
Then I'll rightly be left behind.
...
All because I'm an introvert
And a coward combined.
She's amazing but I spend too much time with myself.
I'm afraid she'll find out
If she gets too close
That my breathing is ragged,
That I'm both sweaty and cold,
That my heart is beating furiously,
That she matters more than she knows.
...
That her mere presence affects me,
And it's not something I can control.
I remember how she hugged me and how scared I was.
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