"configured" poems
With that, my Parapets should find Content
Knowing you and all Involved will migrate
But only sever out those Post-Chains sent
Will I be Enlightened from this Debate
I should go first, seeing this Program, I,
The Valleyed Entrepreneur once invest
For special - Hearts which ferrimost go by
And boost this Capital for all your Best
Only a matter when my eyes Break Lens
Which, for once, these Songs never did Exist
Since configured to Sportive Water's sense
Those Borrowed Drums whose Beat will now resist.
With my lips pursed, to the top of my mane
I Thank you once again, Beauty's Maiden Name.
Mar 14, 2013
Mar 14, 2013 at 3:29 AM UTC
Amadou awakened with a start, it was Omar one of the guardians(security guards) of Yaldagou (the largest Hospital in the capital of Burkina Faso) knocking on the window of his taxi, Amadou had just settled down for the night after a long day in the heat and fumes that was Ouagadougou it was just after midnight on Sunday, he struggled to wake up rubbing the sleep from his eyes as Omar explained in Mori(local language), that there were two white people in need of his special service.
After a quick explanation that someone had died in a private clinic nearby and the body needed to be transported to the morgue at Yaldagou, he snapped out of his sleepiness and thought for a moment how much he could charge the rich white people, it was two days after Eid and as a strict Muslim he had been celebrating the holidays and now he had been offered an opportunity to supplement his taxi income, someone had to do it and it was an unsavory job and anyway on the few occasions he had done it, it had been lucrative, it might as well be him!
Amadou thought to himself, if you had the misfortune to die in the day time there was a private service but in the night dignity went out the window and it was up to people like Amadou and a select bunch of taxi drivers with seats that could be configured to accommodate the corpses of the recently deceased to perform this service, so taxi 87 driven by Amadou would take this lady who had died from kidney and other ***** failures, after struggling for some days she eventually lost her battle and slipped into unconsciousness and finally died.
Amadou finally settled on 10000 CFA(local currency) a fair price, after all the so-called professionals would charge 30000 CFA three times more and it was around Eid "Allah Akbar".
A quick "Thank you" to Omar for helping them and the two white people left with him for the short journey to the clinic, after the usual discussions the body was released and transported to the morgue to join the other recently deceased waiting for burial in the morning,
Amadou, rearranged the seating in his taxi after parking up in his favourite place under the trees of Yaldago it was just after one thirty, a good ninety mins work he thought to himself, yawned, and settled down to sleep a few more hours before dawn prayers.
This was Africa and "someone had to do it" was his last thought.
Nov 26, 2012
Nov 26, 2012 at 7:26 PM UTC
I feel close to you,
Though far,
I feel the chill down the spine.
Like raindrops falling on leaves,
you slipped right through me.
You slipped right into me.
I imagine your hands
and how it would feel like to hold them,
I imagine your eyes,
and how it could read my play by play.
Imagination fuels curiosity,
Curiosity fuels death – death in your hands.
Unique relationship of a thousand purposes,
We walk towards an oriental sun,
I remember your perfume
like memorizing keyboard characters.
But we have dismembered physicality.
We have configured a disfigured mentality.
Let’s not go outside,
Beauty has its way to disconnection,
I know it too well from you.
I feel detached from my consciousness,
In this dream, rationality became serendipity.
I turned to sleep – only to stay awake.
Sep 27, 2012
Sep 27, 2012 at 2:50 AM UTC
"You're gambling death."
The skeleton laughed.
While shuffling a deck of cards,
the skeleton sat across from me.
Grinning.
I was starting to feel uncomfortable..
No.
Maybe the right word is trapped?
How did he get here?
"I don't gamble."
I snapped to the bones that configured the human skeleton sitting across from me...
in my bed.
"That's sad."
He sounded really sincere.
But still he was smiling,
Still he was lingering.
And as of now, I was getting a tiny bit mad.
I just wanted this thing to leave....
"If I were you I wouldn't want to loose this game." He hissed.
Of corse with a skeletal smile
that presented teeth such as those of a crocodile.
I watched the bones of his hand through the corner of my eye as he spoke reaching for a card.
Noticing that the crevices of his bones were flooded with dust.
"Any old memories you want to reminisce?"
He said it mockingly.
He continued,
"Nothing to say, boy?"
"You're covered in enough dust to have plenty stories for us both, bones. Go on head and get us started won't you?"
Dec 3, 2013
Dec 3, 2013 at 6:49 PM UTC
Just the other day,
someone asked me,
which day is
the other day.
One day of the other days
of the week,
I said.
Monday to Friday is
five days away,
while Friday to Monday
is just three days.
Really funny, isn't it.
Is this a mathematical error
and miscalculation or
just another maths equation.
Why is this so.
Is the algebraic algorithms wrong
or it is just configured to just fix
a mathematical problem.
Xy plus Y and you subtract
the y in Xy then multiply it by 10,
your head spined
and finally they asked you
to solve the problem.
They didn't know that
the problem of the problem
is the problem.
And they wish you a
very merry Xmas
but completely forgot that,
there's absolutely no
X in Christmas.
And someone the other day was,
trying so hard to convince me
that the symbol sign of fish inside
the book I'm reading means
Jesus and a symbol of
a dove especially the white one
represent the Holy Spirit.
Confusion within confusion
is very confusing.
What can we say.
What can we speak.
How can we justify ourselves.
If you ask me,
who will I ask.
So don't ask me because,
I really don't know the answer.
©2018,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.
Sep 20, 2018
Sep 20, 2018 at 7:09 AM UTC
Thunder over Karl Marx’s grave
here comes night
running at me with scissors
dangling sellotape
half finished art projects
still weigh heavy on your mind
like all those missed opportunities,
a C should have been an A.
Pastels not paint. The smudged trail of a finger
across ****** feelings which
surface back to tentative fumblings
with a sister’s friend’s Barbie
the smooth plastic bendable limbs
the positions configured with a one armed Action Man
eagle-eyed and
watching
and if I ever feel down
if I ever feel low
I think back to a story I once read about a woman
who had her face ripped off by a chimpanzee
and as she screamed
the chimpanzee leapt up and down
primitive rage grinning.
Not a pleasant sight I can imagine
but when I feel down,
that’s what I think about,
a woman
and a chimpanzee
ith a face hanging from his primate fangs.
Dec 31, 2012
Dec 31, 2012 at 5:04 AM UTC
Conjunction:
a small class of words distinguished in many languages by their function as connectors between words, phrases, clauses, sentences
- the act of conjoining; combination; the state of being conjoined; union; association:
- a compound proposition that is true if and only if all of its component propositions are true.
- the coincidence of two or more heavenly bodies at the same celestial longitude.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I am in a relationship.
a colorless word
a word of no clarity
a good one? a bad one?
a professional deal,
or one that makes you squeal
with pleasure or despair
without context or content,
a description of a status,
not a state,
but a quid pro quo
I prefer
I am in a conjunction
*well recall the day
our orbits
more than crossed,
but synchronized,
when two bodies
began to travel
upon the same longitude
one direction
in conjunction
t'was the day we coordinated
on our mobile phone,
co-configured our future,
our calendars*
*nowadays,
I answer her questions
while she is commencing to think,
when her foolishness prevails,
she questions, "did you remember to..."
my answer, a question returned,
connected, constant and conjunctive,*
"and what's my name?"
an answer conveying constancy
*relationship
oft the farthest place from logical,
but you know that,
say I am in a conjunction
and the logicians will celebrate
the end of your lonely celibacy,
well they understand the truth
inherent in and of and about
your compounded proposition*
*what unimaginative creatures we be,
dispensing with beauty for factuality,
but facts are easily misread,
your fact and my fact, relationship,
the exact same fact, conveys neither
an agreement as to what that means
are we unionized, associated, or conjoined
what is the quality of
our related ships?*
so
Dear Mr. Zuckerberg,
amend my status please,
post me
as being in a state of:
a) conductivity b) connectivity c) concoctive
no, none of those
capture
what we have
captured,
so let create a new state,
a new world,
using a very old world word
post us as follows,
"Nat is in a conjunction"
Apr 25, 2014
Apr 25, 2014 at 6:32 AM UTC
I feel as though I have been undone
One cell at a time
An erosion of myself
Like a child pulling a thread watching a scarf disappear into a long ruffled length of wool
It has some memory of its previous form like DNA
Each morning when I wake, I feel like that ball of wool has been re knitted but never the same
It is as though my emotions have been re configured
Feb 17, 2016
Feb 17, 2016 at 10:06 AM UTC
I get scared easily.
And I always have persisted to allow my mind to be torn out when I let it affect me.
They say, "Worst case scenario is rare." in most situations.
I have yet to seek why they ignore worst case, become it, leaving nothing left for the worst.
Habitually it creates an aggression with associates: replacement and correlation.
Without me noticing inevitably.
Behind.
This shadow that follows, desires its personification;
Consequently the main man must fall,
He will dissipate towards the rock where the one before him stood.
Rather take a spot of one greater, it is that of less higher.
A demotion of sort.
In order for it to transpose into progression, a compromise is of order.
The compromise of time, itself, playing the waiting game - (let us back step)
…replacement…correlation…
The understanding of this is of which I no longer feel that emotion;
It is configured by the other, making a statement which is unrecognizable.
So much, not even I, the speaker, can do anything to prove to you what I mean.
--For keeps sake--
This is no where near a poor pardon for my actions.
They are far from a credible stature. Far from a pity fete;
Indeed a fare apology is in par.
Yet this is a means of report to say in far value: worry.
It is of pure arrogance that I state this claim. Keep this in mind.
That I fear the replacement emotion shall take place in fair time once more.
As the tail is coming back again, second time to be specific.
And your steps in self-fulfillment climaxes,
The steps to which I take are mimicked to that of the first tail.
(The apex forms and your entitlement proclaims its spot.)
I wish it not, to be furthered in my rut.
As of the annum before, was explained by dis-valued ties.
This is not to which I think.
It is your confidence which speaks and separates your feet.
Placing one foot in one path, far ahead from the other.
As I stay with the other, while the other one is altered.
Being free as it walks along with out I.
I wish for an ignoring of replacement, and to this I will forcibly try.
For you, my love.
Jun 29, 2012
Jun 29, 2012 at 5:48 PM UTC
Unperturbed in austere times
Unentangled in a web of complex signs
Unfazed by a vicious complex
I find solace in the face of duress
Configured to righteousness
I am withdrawn from Cross and Crescent mess
Invisible against a tide of boisterous wave
I weave my way and gravitate towards space
The sun a distant memory
Passion and zeal my most valuable armoury
In the heavens i light my stars
In paradise lost i leave my mark
With Noah's design hacked
Not even Jupiter can navigate my ark
Unlike terminator I Am Back
Mar 28, 2017
Mar 28, 2017 at 3:27 PM UTC
Wonders of the world
is too insignificant to
what you will experience
in your life for opening
your heart to receive the
fairest impressions of God.
You are the best gift life can
ever give to the universe.
Infused in you are the
unimaginable seed of greatness.
You are for signs and wonders.
Created and endowed with
enormous and immense abilities
to subdued and have dominion
over all things created.
Your words and thoughts can change
situations and make things manifests
from something for nothing cannot
give rise to something.
Thoughts are definitely something,
and your words are powerfully alive,
you only need to properly project it
into being to give it form and bring
it into your reality.
All things resonates to you,
whether positively or negatively,
depending on the platform you stand.
Everything responds to the octaves
of your vibration within the wavelength
of the rhythm of the pendulum swinging
circumspectively overly around you.
You can do anything you want to do
if you really want to do it.
But you have to learn how to do it differently,
because you are definitely differently configured.
You are an absolute dot stretched into being,
vitalised by the power beyond the ordinary
and full of grace of the divine light.
You are the light of the world.
©2018,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.
Jul 5, 2018
Jul 5, 2018 at 7:24 PM UTC
Flesh & bones
configured
at a molecular level,
my emotions are molded by time,
these hard knocks
& a temporal existence
begging for life,
to feel,
to feel real,
like I'm more
than just a ****
May 9, 2014
May 9, 2014 at 4:51 AM UTC
By Arcassin and Elizabeth
AB:
Flowers blossom,
And sky is bluer than the ocean,
And although it reflects,
We can never witness the motion,
Swimming in the sea of forgotten dreams,
To let go bad memories,
Holy treasons the enemy,
Over lapping actuality,
ES:
Take the beauty of purity,
God's pristine waters,
And cleanse the betrayals trace,
A new beginning for our world,
The dreams of past days again recalled,,
In this our florid wonderland,
Indigo streams bringing,
Divinity unto man,
AB:
Desires to be rulers of the land,
But not enough cargo on the ship,
Tracing footsteps back to endeavors,
Gods creations like wool and leather,
There will be a forever,
Sweat pouring from your head,
And little red slippers,
theres No place like home,
Figures,
ES:
Come together all of planet,
Let one design be in mind,
Share and share alike,
Make of God's realm on Earth,
A perfect reside of care,
Toil for the hearth's fold,
Put to bed the weighty anchor,
Of man's disloyal fife,
AB:
And when it all has reached its peak,
A set to sight on fleek,
If anything , I'd give away my only soul,
Just to save these families,
From the heavens down to the trees,
Everything has means,
Saving purity for one,
Exactly acquired two things,
ES:
To breach the storms,
For good to prevail,
All begin of oneness to other,
Nature's orb configured with man,
Co-existences yielding a field,
Of God's pureness,
The flower's dream retraced,
For our world clan.
Nov 23, 2014
Nov 23, 2014 at 9:14 PM UTC
I walked in a sea of zombies,
circled a million roundabouts,
wandered
the streets in the reverse.
Nobody noticed me
with my two-week stubble,
my body odor emanated
as I cruised through the rubble,
waiting for twilight.
Dried baby llamas grimaced
while children played jacks
& men sold coca,
green bag mountains of it
stacked high like the cordillera
with chicken bones
lying around,
configured
in all directions,
it smelt magical.
And when
the sun finally fell,
I witnessed
the poverty stricken elite,
totally lost on their own
two feet.
I wanted to relate,
to feel human,
so I joined the winos
on a dark unknown corner,
sniffed the cool air
& could finally relate
to a time in space.
Feb 12, 2014
Feb 12, 2014 at 11:58 AM UTC
I foster an incremental relation to the cosmos, enticed regularly by its indefiniteness and appeal.
Its evolutions, innate behaviors, and formidable sciences are recompense for earth’s meager discrepancies.
I often engage in the caprice to dismount much dissatisfaction by the constancy of riveting celestial events.
These beings possess no artificiality.
Its prophetic order, ornate and stupendous architectural facets have allowed a crescendo of dispositional hysteria.
Prosaic imprecations are deduced from its auxiliary wherewithal.
There is no contrition in immersing in enthrallment nor is there fickleness in trust.
Magnificent bodies orbit in finesse and probability, achieving universality and control.
Though these incitements are exponentially cheering, my origin is but connoted in despondency.
Usurpers and ill-suited vandals proliferated by the intemperance of the Ptolemaic discipline.
Rustics, miscreants and idle minds misdirected by less virtuous planetary derision.
My cognitive severity asserted by ominous consummation.
Oh how these preponderant truths confine me unfortunate.
Soliloquy is but an affliction amidst this era of anachronistic reign.
Grandiose passivity is intolerable at this time.
I plan to dichotomize my adamant fate from precepts and conditions anew.
The deposition of malfeasant kings will be sought.
Ploys I have already configured; propagation is near to instigation.
I will exhort my ascent to prime eminence.
The stars will sanction me to a rightful end.
Sep 1, 2014
Sep 1, 2014 at 8:49 AM UTC
Feeling your touch distantly,
calling out your name in whispers unsaid.
Playing hard to get isn't fun
if your not playing too,
simply - your
hard to hold on to,
I've already tried catching you.
Dancing, moving, flowing,
like a ribbon in the sky....
broken free from loose strands......
caught the smiles,
the shy looks, the hand holding.
So long Oh so so so very long now
I've knew & known those strong hands
holding me.
we've configured our bodies,
embraced- the soft silky smooth texture of skin,
golden perfectly formed muscles ,
holding me tight up against your chiseled chest
as we merge- twist swing push pull spin
again again again & again.
spinning round around round & around
songs mingled melodies spark causing us to get closer,
closer closer & even closer...
I'm trapped luxuriously- your mmm unreal
intoxication- like webs of stars
caught on my dream catcher.
hips pressed close legs mingle
as we twist this and that way.
hand on the swell of my backside,
Squeeze turn pause- dipping low lower,
dip me again - magnetize my alluring persona.
Alleviate this unknown aridity that leaves
me dry mouthed
longing for your touch once more.
Songs ending it's last call
Butterfly's catch in the pit of my stomach,
after seeing you with her
seeing you shyly smile up
at her while you forget.
the touch of our hands,
the smell of our scent & sweat mingled as one
like lover for the very first time
the floor was our bed
our playground until the music
drifted
softly slowly away & she came into
focus....
stepping back i look from you to her
holding my breath when you truned my way,
You bowed over my hand kissed it lovingly.
Causing longing, craving & hot flashes
for hours until now- mingled with sweaty palms
as you walk past me back to her side.
am i playing the wrong game?
Every weekend with you it's almost the same.
You find me- stalk me until i relentlessly give in,
dancing, swaying,
bodies so close causing us to forget ,
forget it all.......
Dance floor becoming our bedroom,
so many times so many hours
swaying- flowing bodies intertwined,
meshed together again & again.
spinning around & round.
With me me me & you oh you you you
your dipping me .
your hands always mmm always on
my lower back,
music loudly sweetly drumming
like our heart beats
becoming our Tantra Taboo(s).....
she smiles at me then looks up- smiling
gleefully in your eyes
as you both walk out the dance hall....
**** I shouldn't of expected a **** thang-
Oh well that's what happens more often than not- to me
on a
Friday Night(s)
Always Me Ayeshah
Apr 11, 2010
Apr 11, 2010 at 4:59 AM UTC
The most apparent thing
in her story though unpronounced
is as her life unfurled
she very rarely smiled
she possessed a reticence
a solemnity before her years
a maturation process
that involved too many tears
And so this Doctor she became
empathic and sensitive
a healer of the lame
configured by experience
to be of assistance to the same
Oct 11, 2013
Oct 11, 2013 at 2:12 AM UTC
there is principle, there is mad luck on the streets
but then again, i have neither one.
i assume the idleness of poles underneath the roof of a cafe in Poblacion
and wonder where all my poems go,
the value they impose -- only there's implosion and not so much sense
so i go out to seek tenderly in the night,
a cheap moon trapped underneath the bottle of a pilsner
as i hear one of the patrons call out
my solitude like a ********** on all fours;
one afternoon pursues a following.
i have wasted my time writing and stopping
to watch stray hounds pant and
**** on the hot asphalt of Plaridel.
the papers retch at tyrannies.
hands for mechanisms configured to
a heady bias of probabilities.
the house next to me is being
overhauled and i imagine the incredulity
of things not their own meanings.
a pair of old Chuck Taylors on the bedspread, a decrepit bed for making love
or passing time or wasting the night away.
somewhere, someone is reading my poems and weeping at the cadence.
most do not notice -- it was the caprice of things not mine to commandeer.
the sound of stone masons hammering
boulders double the melancholia.
the deliberate sieving of sand and stone
felt like sandpaper air.
the matutinal sky split into dire condition
much like mine: becoming and unbecoming.
all the ******** are out in the streets
with ladies wuthering in high strides.
all the priests are in their rendezvous,
killing buddha heads.
the police have silenced the sirens
and behind pairs of old navy blue slacks
and mobiles covered with dust,
the captives scream mercy.
all the ATMs drone the pither of metal mouths.
a widow in Bocaue holding a picture
of the departed.
i look up and see my face in the sky:
if only i could **** the man and be the man,
fill his shoes with flesh, his movements my emulation, his enigmas my clarity, his day old denims my best dress.
more than beer and cigarettes have done me in and more to myself much no less
than a cat hit by a speeding bicycle
somewhere in Padre Faura.
madness hurries like a lover and hands me
a picture of the moon.
i've got something and that's good enough
as the police leave the grime of times
and evict drunks off the streets of Malolos,
as the priests step into the showers, naked
and bloodied just like the ordinary man,
as the cat that was hit
by a bicycle
goes back to the dark
licking the salt off the wound,
bone fractured, still alive on the hot roof.
Feb 27, 2016
Feb 27, 2016 at 5:39 AM UTC
I stole your heart and broke your soul
Leaving my stained colors bleeding over your own .
I wrecked your brain and controlled your thoughts
Even when i've been gone for so long.
I destroyed your ribs and took your last breath
straight from your weakening lungs.
I was a masterpiece
made from the pieces of broken hearts
and lost souls.
My paints configured of the colors
leaking from the cracks of each victim.
I stole your heart and broke your soul
Using your everlasting color
To finish my last strokes
Leaving a dull grey
in a place of what once was
A soft shade of blue.
Sep 24, 2018
Sep 24, 2018 at 3:05 AM UTC
I am for you, you are my world
Your beauty quenches my thirst for love
And pinches my hunger to hang around you
You are my sunlight holding hosting delight
And mansion of moonshine not to mention
You are the wine, so divine to me
You are my addict, I adopt
I am enslaved to your grace of flowery face
You are my heart beat, my sole breath
You are my ambience, opulence
Your looks locked me up for life
Configured your figure in my brain
Wow! You won my heart, I owe you
I own you and your woes if so,
I vow, I bow to your bewitching beauty
Repose faith in me; I propose, don’t oppose
Throw your smile in token of consent, I rejoice.
Sep 25, 2014
Sep 25, 2014 at 7:49 PM UTC
device configured by component device
generated images integrated
visual display driver
unsupported graphics
incorrect function
ERROR_PATH_NOT_FOUND
system corrupted
flash memories
regulators of my process
calculators and computational controllers
emulators and resistor
access is denied
Connection lost
Feb 5, 2019
Feb 5, 2019 at 7:10 PM UTC
I am for you, you are my world
Your beauty quenches my thirst for love
And pinches my hunger to hang around you
You are my sunlight holding hosting delight
And mansion of moonshine not to mention
You are the wine, so divine to me
You are my addict, I adopt
I am enslaved to your grace of flowery face
You are my heart beat, my sole breath
You are my ambience, opulence
Your looks locked me up for life
Configured your figure in my brain
Wow! You won my heart, I owe you
I own you and your woes if so,
I vow, I bow to your bewitching beauty
Repose faith in me; I propose, don’t oppose
Throw your smile in token of consent, I rejoice.
Feb 9, 2015
Feb 9, 2015 at 9:18 PM UTC
I couldn't read by the ocean
The sea breeze prematurely
Flipped each page for me.
My eyes caught
The very words I had been
Anticipating for hours
I found the end
Before I configured a beginning.
Much like the way my daydreams
Never quite know how to step
Out of the clouds.
Probably because
They have a hard time finding
A ground they've never known
Tales taller than myself
Filled up my silly little brain
With the idea that
I'd rather jump ships
Than skip from stone to stone
The water here is polluted
More than the people.
They insist on throwing their
Things
Into the ocean.
The problems they've been
Tossing away all these years
Always find their way back to
Shore
But I find that there's a sunrise
In the middle of the day
Coasting over every lonely coast
In search of a girl
With her head under the waves
Life is a little more peaceful there
Jan 8, 2014
Jan 8, 2014 at 11:40 PM UTC
for all the things labeled
in the exterior mirages
of turpentine reeking layers
worn lavishly by red lipstick
and silver tailored suits,
light illuminating marble counter tops
dusted by the next-thousand-block immigrant
the mother of four beautiful children
she clashes with the detriment of money
which filters back to champagne of that red lipstick,
the silver tailored suit a million floors above
encased within their own skeleton
they peel their skin so not to feel a thing
stuffed in a daycare tabooed because of its door handle
touched by mothers working wage to meet end's meet
children skipping their shoes
on the stains of the concrete underneath their feet
and not realizing a thing
the mother bustles through
alone but surrounded by grease
seething into the cracks of her heels
while her children grows by the tick
into the template configured by society
the smear of red lipstick
the wrinkle in the silver tailored suit
the system of trickle down economy
have gone down the throats of so many lives
as a diluted joker waving a flag sewn with white
this age of decadence
chooses to blind its kin
reality has been remodeled
into a Hollywood basement
Jul 26, 2015
Jul 26, 2015 at 7:16 PM UTC
The closet *** addict
That no one would figure
Off the way she's dressed
Always calm and configured
Dec 30, 2013
Dec 30, 2013 at 4:06 AM UTC