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Sacred Johnson May 2019
These are the photographs of the darkness
  Electrified wind of witches from the underworld
  Thou hast break in the dust of your brethrens graves
  Thou art the blood on their tombs cracked walls
  
  Shall ye ground onto this eternal fraternity of bones
  Ye shall be of thy fathers salvation on day of the Sabbath
  Hail to all the nations of pale ghosts of mud wells
  Toll the bells in the pits of Thurash and of Mandonis

  This dusk is swarn upon thy return to land of beasts
  Seven days thou shalt fade as ashes we left with thee
  Farewell the sail of flesh in the sea of the dead
  Thou shalt rise to breath the winds of trees again
This is a dream I had once. A visit to the land of the dead. Stanza 1 is the arrival, Stanza 2 is dwelling in the place and experiences. Stanza 3 is the return to the land of walking man.
May 2019 · 169
Pain = bestfriend
Sacred Johnson May 2019
There is no wound on the surface of the skin can compare to a poke of a fingertip on your brain. Impossible as it is seen, but hypothetical real. I have no friend other than Pain,  whom for years has caressed my mind and numbed my soul to  an instance I was left with no option but to submit to her. All my life. Here I am stumbling through my memory Vine with red grapes bleeding and I am trying to go down to the day we begun our relationship. I can't find a trail. She haunts me everynight like she is supposed to put me to sleep but give me insomnia instead. She is so obsessed with me. She doesn't knock on her way inside my brain to tell me how I should dig my grave and lay myself to sleep. She runs through my veins that I cut often, my blood clots as always. Pain tells me to tie a slipknot but fails me every episode is unfinished. This friendship will never finished.
Apr 2019 · 251
?
Sacred Johnson Apr 2019
?
You don't need me,  you need the things I have
You don't love me,  you love the clothes I wear
You think I am not aware?
To material girls
Dec 2018 · 327
Reborn
Sacred Johnson Dec 2018
This soul craved resurrection that blood splashed look as olive anointed.
My flesh decayed for decades but these bones couldn't turn into dust.
These lungs bond atoms and cells mitosise.
My skin peeled, shed and bloomed again to rebirth.
Happy NewYou.
Nov 2018 · 230
Burning
Sacred Johnson Nov 2018
You love must be wicked
Why is there cremation?
Burning in my heart,
Like my heart is
The hell of fire?
Love doesn't hurt, it burns and hurts.
Nov 2018 · 285
1998
Sacred Johnson Nov 2018
1 represents my existence on planet earth
A good 9 years of innocence childhood fire
9 more to exhibit my love to the girl who lift my heart higher
Here is 8 years to begin a new path
YOLO. Reminisce the good old days. Love unconditionally, unstoppable. Don't be afraid to start over. I was born in 1998
Nov 2018 · 416
Loneliness
Sacred Johnson Nov 2018
Oh, this long road seize no end.
Should I sue the contractor?
Sometimes,  being on your own is being at peace,  then a photo, memories, a gift, a stranger's perfume scent. Just remind you of the person who brought you in this hell of loneliness. Why did they even existed, why did you?  You get mad, wish upon the worse to them,  how could the ruin your life..? Can I file a lawsuit? ..... As if it's even possible.. Mhhh.
Nov 2018 · 996
Not lost
Sacred Johnson Nov 2018
We are nowhere to be "found"
Because we are not lost.
Just read it again.
Sacred Johnson Nov 2018
Petrified are the hoppers who fed on all the corn that died
Terrified are the squirrels whose nuts were taken for harvest
Angry are the birds that never seems to stubble upon a worm
Hungry is the cannibal who tore my flesh and drank from my blood stream

The hoppers will cut the dry hay pasture
Squirrels will dig into poultry houses
Birds will fly to were lichen surfaces rocks
But this cannibal will hunger to death 'cause I will return,
dust to dust, ashes to ashes.
I know you are happy torturing me. You rejoice my depression and anxiety but on day when the universe call upon my name,  I will leave you to die of anguish and sorrow. These words are for those that hurts us while we are here, they will suffer when we are gone.
Nov 2018 · 277
Book Cry
Sacred Johnson Nov 2018
Keke!
Do you love me, would you read me?
Say you'll never return me to the shelf?
To the girl who'll take me next. If I am for sale, never return me to shelf of loneliness. If I am for a borrow, take me, let the librarian know I am lost.. Lost beneath your pillow.
Sacred Johnson Nov 2018
The grave isn't man's final home
Instead
The basement's door to life 3.0
Life 2.0 ( The best poem I read today)... https://hellopoetry.com/farhan86a/
Nov 2018 · 272
Teach Me
Sacred Johnson Nov 2018
How to be the suit and tie of your colours.
To rhyme the truth that my tongue covers.
How to walk the shoes that crush my dark molars.
To matriculate at your heart for honors.
Teach me, woman.
How to be a man, many a man can't be.
My request to you, woman... Mould me in desired shapes. Sculpt me to be a symbol of maturity, to know that you have a heart that crave for care.. Teach me to be different, to tell the truth, to reveal it with actions..
Nov 2018 · 313
Fade
Sacred Johnson Nov 2018
Follow
And
Dwell
Eternally.
Stay away from this dark heart of mine, you might fade.
Nov 2018 · 397
God is she.
Sacred Johnson Nov 2018
Our Pastor: "He is trinity."
Mom: "He is in abundance."
Dad : "Holly father."
Nana: "He is mysterious."
 But I, believe in us
Us: " The Universe , she is all Creations."
Men (as in male) can't be compared to the unknown spirits that give life to everything. Men are wicked, sacred, weak, evil. We can't even be compared to women in real life. This poem is not to be taken litterally as leberal to religion.... But had you ever asked yourself?
Nov 2018 · 1.8k
Amnesia
Sacred Johnson Nov 2018
One of these days
I will be on deck, put pedals on my boat
Low it down the deepest streams
And you will watch me as I slowly sail away
Towards the ocean, underneath a stormy sky
Floating ahead of the hightest tides
There I will dive in with everything that I am
Wash away your promises and love notes
Feed your rebukes and blames to the sharks
Then one day
I will return, not for you
'Cause I will not know a thing about you but I will notice you if you dare try to take advantage of my Amnesia
This is a note to self: I will never come back to you, despite your changes. I lost track of who you were before I even left, so let's be these strangers.
Nov 2018 · 441
Just a T-shirt
Sacred Johnson Nov 2018
If I wasn't too black to wear in the sun when the skies are blue. Maybe a different colour would fit.
If I wasn't so thin to keep you from winter morning cold & chill. Maybe a jacket is all you need.
If I wasn't fragile made for wind to ******* when you hang me on the line. Maybe a peg will hold me up.
If I wasn't  made of cotton to get wet when it pours on you skin. Maybe an umbrella will do that.
Maybe then you will wash, bleach, iron and put cologne on me.
Until then I am your T-shirt.
 Just a T-shirt.
©Sacred Johnson
There is point where we all need to come to peace with what we can't change about ourselve (esp. our physical appearance), for we are just human and we say "enough". Don't let people who can't recognise you value becomes predicaments of your life. Learn to move on, separate.
Sacred Johnson Nov 2018
Pour,  pour!  The *** is half empty.

•Leave my water! 
° Here, a fish from my spear.

Clap, clap!  The back of my hands hurts.

•Leave my water!
°Your hands would fit in mine.

Clutch, clutch! Her bare feet upon land.

•Leave my water! .
°I'd hold your life's loads.

Thund, splash. Water sinks beneath sand.

•Leave my water! I warned.
° No wonder, I will kneel before your old man.
 
******, thump! She desired her hands on my neck.

• The chiefs will hear, the clan's curse shall dwell upon you. Had you only leave my water!
° Shall I never appear before the light of day, you knew my hands would make you a gold *** and carry you crystal water.
 
Flap, flip! There she fades, left water in my lungs. Shall I had leave her water.
Tales of ancient Southern African love stories from the villages. Where tender girls would only be found when a house hold run out if water. I wrote this piece based on love stories narrated to me by my Gogo (grandma). Love can be painful when the one you love is too broken to be loved 'cause all the love they cohabit once was taken from them. The bitterness you face trying to cease loving them is unbearable. You may notice the two characters, • (girl) & ° (boy) probably me and all the lads that once or will fall in love with a girl who's broken by another man. When she says "no! " it's best you listen though not giving up. Don't force love 'cause pure love alone can end in tragedy. Mend and mould it. I hope you will find an exchange for love when you spend love, just don't invest all in it.
Nov 2018 · 723
Cerebral Poetry
Sacred Johnson Nov 2018
Here I keep a metaphor, it's what matters more.
Trigger my wordomine,  poets have hormones as mine.
Here I keep synonyms, I'm overdosed by homonyms.
Trembling cortex, shaking my narrative voices.
A brief description of the poet I am. I write the thesis as it happens in my head. Playing around with a foreign language and all the structures that makes it. I narrated poems (mines) once, twice, but I still shake when I face the crowds. This is my first poem in the society, I feel at home.

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