My life is racing with time

I’m running
beyond the boundaries of this world
behind the turn
of love and death

On the walk I wobble like willows
crying in the abandoned park
nature blows up with colours
It’s free like a wind
Men come and go
In an empty house everyone is a stranger
I don’t want to run without You

I turn
into the tunnel
without exit

It's a annoying to repeat and only obtain others resistance. I'm finding happiness yet they are against it. Selfish acts are always appearing and plans in secret I always pretend I'm not hearing. Irratable and violent I can't no longer be.  But they keep trying to justify the way I believe. Why can't I be happy from saving everyone I know. What am I the bomb but everyone says don't blow.

They                      don't                      see
               angel                     hiding inside                    of                          you,
      ­           they                        see
just                         your                   scars,
                  but                        you    
will                        bring                beauty          ­           from                      pain.

Forced by covenant to conceal
The wound you carry deep
Too dangerous far to now reveal
The secret you must keep

The truth, it’s said, can set you free
Whose truth, I ask my heart
Some truth must hide, to shadow flee
Or slay as a poisoned dart

A truth which must be guarded well
Though to be shouted loud it cries
Must be restrained and forced to dwell
Within a citadel of lies

A soaring fort of alabaster walls
Splendid turrets as disguise
Conceals pits beneath its gilded halls
Where love lies brutalized

Though we ache for all the world to see
To the heart, it matters naught
Two souls are not united by decree
Nor love with license bought

So truth must wait and a prisoner remain
In lonely cell, there to abide
Believe dreams of freedom are not in vain
That gates, one day, will open wide

Truly gifted poets
Straddle their crafts early on
Some even in adolescence
They have been cursed or blessed
To be kings and queens of utterance.
I never dreamed of becoming a poet
It was furthest from my mind
Then in a sudden twist of eardrum
It happened in my mid thirties.

Out of the recesses of Time
Came the lure and a hook
Shining in enchanted brook
And before i knew it
My heart was snatched
And my movements flustered
When i bit on ambrosiac bait
Drenched in Muse's wine
Drugged and drunk
On sounds and images
I struggled in a pool of words
To assemble what held me infused
To make sense of orphaned views
Swaying between shade and light
Like dancers deprived of audience.

My poetic rapture began
In frenetic rain of ink
preposterous in direction
A poetaster rapt on vapid rhymes
With sounds of poetic crimes
But my craft developed
In piecemeal fashion
And rendered my pen composed.

A minnow of long ago
Has grown into a mackerel
And longs to become a whale
In the ocean Ars Poetica
Though it seems a pipe dream.

It is the dumb hour of night
Bereft of all maneuvers
Shadows have come and gone
Spending their agendas
The canvas bland as space
Drapes mute and motionless
As hidden truths
Not a stroke felt
Not a single word flickers
Off intersecting ink
There must be a gale
Deep into the mind
Winnowing
Chaffs of memory.

What is a feeling
And where does it come from
Is it a vibration
From the earth of your being
Or a joyous image
Of leaking tears
Is it a ping
In cerebral engine
Or a sting off psychic mirror
Is it a continuum of living signs
Or a spectrum of ancestral mines
Whatever it is
Two things are sure
Once it is owned or disowned
It never leaves you alone.

The words we
uttered are from
the letters of the
alphabets of the
spirit meant to
bring solace and
sanity into the
affairs of man.
To combine one
letter with the
other two or three
alphabet is to
form the words
flowing through the
door of our mind.
Words are powerful
spells that help
alleviate stress of
confusion and bring
order into what
our mouth utters.
I know myself
in my words.
I don't look for
myself in the
middle of the
darkness of the
words that flows
out of my soul,
for the words
turned and
become light when
they come out
of the darkness
of the heart.
It was dusk,
with the rosy clouds
dotting the western
sky after the rain.
The glow of
one warm thoughts
is to me worth
more than money.
No man jokes
with his inner peace.
He opens his
mouth and words
come out.
©2018,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.

The deepest scars come from words left unsaid,
Everything yearns for freedom.
Even words,
So the longer they're kept from it...
The heavier they weigh.
Do not underestimate
Their destruction.