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Duke Thompson May 2015
Mute the trumpet of existence
Close the third eye
Disalign chakras
And get off my lawn
They pulled me into darkness that night.
I had no reason to believe it wasn't light .
I had no reason to believe it wasn't right.

They told me that he loved me and I believed.
My friends, I called them such unknowingly.
I never thought I needed time to see.

They put me up in shackles that midday.
It was part of a game that we always used to play.
We'd all try to escape is what they'd say.

They went off on their separate ways to start.
All part of the play, I knew the part.
Magic was always at play in the dark.

They never knew how deep the game reached me.
Since they never really saw what I could see.
So I was quite already reaching my crazy.

They left me longer in the room that time.
The ramblings in my head began to rhyme,
As my feelings all began to disalign.

They all were soon through, and watching me.
Throwing stones and lines while on my knees.
Then they turned around regardless of my pleas.

They lied to say they ever really cared.
I cried for all the times I ever dared.
Never have I ever felt so scared.

But since that day, I now can see
Just how wrong I was to believe
That all it really was was just a dream.
David Ugwu Feb 2021
Ever wondered what it seems
When the world aligns in one's favor
when things are right
Just to  disalign
As perfect becomes imperfect
As Like cosmics attract
Yet  alike
So the very compass of life be destroyed
That uttered sense makes no sense.
Onoma Jan 1
ice too is structured, I have witnessed its
appalling unbrokeness for longer than I
care to recall.
as with the guiding principles of
silverware, conversation should follow.
any misapplication would be as rude as
one cut off midsentence.
the mark of polite society is cultivated facade without imposition, hitchless
ritualism.
****** muscles uncramped of miseries,
poise is how stock is measured.
yet there's Michelangelo's: David, even
more poised with his pecker's forbidden
talking point.
tonight we exchange the currency of one
year for another--as the fog goes about its
yellow life.
no yellower than these so tight-lipped
about teeth.
the first time it happened, tobacco smoke
stratified layers of breath, cologne & perfume--letting fall delinquent unwash.
they all spoke at once, their features grew till they were competing panoramas.
as if they continually crawled out & came
for me with their airless truths.
how I learned to see with one eye, use the
opposite hand natural to me, balance on
one foot--to disalign with their choreography.
I increased that split second, I lingered upon it, caught others stitch a seam.
I saw the easeful converse of skulls make
stark headway, stiffly tolerant of arms left
raised in toasts.
the polished hatred of servants complimentary with movement & stationariness.
fool, martyr, poet--isolate any of the above & I will be indistinguishable from them.
it is I who lowered my guard, not they--throwing my nerves into the pools of impregnable circles.
hard at the art of hearsay, a one to one with a King--one with no dynastic
trickledown.
I drank from that chalice on New Years Eve--white flannel trousers rolled up.
masticated peach in my stomach, my ankles cuffed by a shoreline's puzzle piece.
splashed in the face by a mermaid's tail,
as to revive me from an undreamt year.

— The End —