the grasps of my **** as the holder of time to the scales, as if it was my *******: desired inclined of all women of latter time as it's extension of the scaled respective independent selfish ******* as length in time as metered to overtaking body erradicating speed as colloidial motion distressed dementia slowing of all intensity asto contrast of haste of carried love as given of best length as best muscle wide ribbed real phenomenah constituted factuality enters the member of divided all penetrable imaginable intensity of the attitude assertive attentive of the yearn-craved-of all the famish as if actual shared intoaslike reality factual forlorned of the ****** engagement as the cunninlingus hunger of your taste lipped to each attention assertive command of the tongue to sense of even ambrosial scent as if dripping from tongue as licking of even like the contact of the mouth encumbers soul erogenous eroticmentality of the attitude inasif heat intensified feelings of desire attentive controlled of lust as this finality driven to of the seen as actuality of time as desire and as to it's **** as if normalcy actual constant submissively yields to the haste in time as both too and including of all bodies to greet my being as this sexuality superior with my body and **** englistened measured as twisted entertwined range of aim of all bodies to lust of thisity whatness of all to mynest time in relativity of all to feel me as my body pushes up and down ******* eager motion arched to back dig palm ******* as to the ensimultitide  momentum as all here chosen existent pristine envinciation of as invincibility is sacrificed for as if ****** to ****** pain  pain without ******* in all of every real time experience enverbatim and seen enwombed married by what just written;

You’re pretty… he says
for a dark-skinned girl
I usually don’t talk to your kind.
am I supposed to feel honor?
you hopped of your pedestal, down to mine?
I will not curve my lips into the half of the crescent moon that you’re expecting
you do not deserve that.
exclusion encumbers me and I am small in your eyes.
Surely you can see that I am a dark girl,  sweet berries ; color of night
the same colors that allowed my ancestors to take flight.
freeing them from *******,
wounds that had them tied, without my hue, we would’ve died.
I am a stone immortal, no work of erosion can seep through my cracks.
the trials of my ancestors drawn on their backs.
so our heads, we never hang down , we are to be found.
scars to be hidden
it is the gas in a run-away car,
that last sip an alcoholic has as their arm and wrist lay dangling at the bar
this is the prestige of my hue
if I’m just pretty? then what could beauty possibly mean to you. a rare blend of  history, struggle and strength.
My head will not hang, not once more
by noose or in self distress, I am history.
No more do I long to sit at a table with you,
in the wake of waiting for your admiration
I have created my own table, in appreciation of your hesitation.
To you my worth will always be in comparison to what’s missing
that being pretty for a dark-skin girl, is a blessing.
Worth far more than bedazzled insults
, convinced I was worth less
they could see it in my eyes, the way I dressed.
The hue that I am is far greater than they told me
accepting  back handed accolades,  that’s the old me.
This house that holds my soul is only almost pretty… they say
if I weren’t so dark I might be worth loving, caring wanting or staying.
My color, a rustic espresso, no cream.
you say I am pretty for a dark- skinned girl …
no I’m pretty and that’s it!
signed a FED UP dark skinned chick

An unrequited love that still offers a seemingly patronizing hand of rapport
Is just another way to say "friend zone"
But you'll be dancing in the end zone
After you finally pay your student loan with money from the job you needed a degree to get which called for the loan in the first place

The salt has spilled off the Lazy Susan
Throw it over your right shoulder

Is this my alter ego?
Or do I have a split personality
Maybe this is my light skinned doppelganger
I've got to get these bats out of the belfry
I've got claustrophobic, roided-out butterflies in the pit of my stomach

Busted paper thin lips
A blood sport
Stop it from clotting
Vaccinate me

This vacuum is a rare find
The national demographic is going through culture shock
Assume a surname
Put on the gargantuan pennant
Go to the pulpit and beg for penance

Gridlock
The paleophone is cracked
Study the topography
And pay the bus fare

The squatters who are on borrowed time
Take a swig from the half empty bottle
After searching their whole lives for an even break
But are forced to cut ties and make a clean cut from society

All the lent hands and ears
Are lodged between ungratefulness and exclusive pity parties
Sweet nothings and forget-me-nots
Do a clean sweep

It's imperative to have a method to your madness
A portrayal of eccentric narcissist
Painting self-portraits
While on some kind of wonder drug
Longing for some moral support

Double-dealing
Double crossing
A hypocritical traitor
Who has the right away

I will watch your blood coagulate around the bullet holes
As your body goes into Rigor mortis
I will commit this picture to memory
I would have bet dollars to doughnuts that it wasn't you
But who wudda thunk it?

It's all just an impromptu turn on a dime
That encumbers you with cabin fever
When you're on display in a human zoo
Where unproductive bull sessions are a dime a dozen

I have been told that I am
An Earth Angel sent by God
To shelter those that needed
The most protection.
But, what happens when this
Earth Angel has herself fallen?
Who will be there to bandage
Her delicate wing that has
Now been broken?

The question is why this
So lovely Earth Angel has fallen?
Has she carried one too many
Burdens on her shoulders?
Has she lost sight of her own
Purpose, along the way,
That it has made her blind to
The true perils that lie
Right in front of her?

I am crying out for help
As my once and so powerful
Wing has broken under all of the
Stress of this powerful weight.
Why has this happened to me?
Did I lose faith that the people
I was sent to safe guard actually
Cared about my purpose anymore?
Or, did I just stop believing that I, myself,
Could help them anymore?

I have walked so many years of my
Own life being this angel, while forgetting
That sometimes I also need an Earth Angel
To help me find my way sometimes.
I am sure that is hard to believe that
Earth Angels can be so fragile?
Remember, these Angels are humans
With emotions and are not infallible.
Choose your words and actions wisely,
Because your perils become theirs.  

Can you imagine having the continuous  
Strength to be one of these Angels?
I bet not.  But, understand that this
Is what I feel my destiny has always been.
So, now, I need some time to heal my
Own broken wing.
I certainly cannot fly with just one.

I pray that God will miraculously heal
My own broken wing so that I may soon
Get back to what I am needed to do –
To provide support and encouragement
To you so that you will make it past
Whatever encumbers you mind, your heart,
And, most importantly, your soul.    


Vicki A Zinn

August 3rd, 2015

In a kingdom full of inclemencies my hubris does not fail me
Profuse and Fierce, Some may call me arrogant
'Hubris!' chuckled I, 'Yes Hubris!'
It's a recording of my failings.  
'It's that amorality,' I muttered.

My hubris is my substratum towards my nescience.
It is that aspect that will lean me towards drowning in the sea of my own incoherent imbecility.
It's a deep program in my faulty code, a nightmare towards monks.
It's the ink on my arms, tattooed to my soul.

'Hubris!' chuckled I, 'Yes Hubris!'
It does not fail to show in my wording.
It's the ferry to sea, the net in the ocean.
It is limber as it is inventive, with every exception.

It has no ingenuousness, it is unlike modesty and threatens to surmount me.
It's a sandwich in which has caught every hitch of breath, it leaves me bewitched, no certain pitch that I can tell afore it chokes me.
It leaves no correspondence with those around me, too caught up in my own fantasies that I can no longer celebrate or verbalize felicitously.

Many times I wished that I preserved my receipt so that I could trade in my Hubris for something a little less mucusless for it is something akin to Judas, and I cannot utilize it for anything utilizable.

If I could somehow find a way that would lead me to a resilient recuperation. I would judge that to be more utilizable then this Hubris that encumbers me. No matter how many times I beat it down, it war's like a lion and a bunch of tourists on a safari.

If only this grotesque lion-like hubris was shot by the doter of a hubris poacher. Every generation would be gratified and they would find that it is much more facile to coerce without that unpleasant Hubris.

Of course, I suppose in a way hubris could be utilizable in some situations that required it. If I somehow found a way to trade my hubris for something like modestly and found that I missed my hubris quite dearly. I would laugh at my incoherent imbecility and perceive myself to be remotely mad!

These ravings of my hubris I'm quite sure because I found it so consequential to indite a poem of stark preposterousness. In a contingency like this, I suppose my hubris is getting quite polished, so sharply able to strike down any sense of modesty.

I conjecture this is the terminus of this arrangement, please omit my hubris for a moment. I suppose I should give you some tea afore I dose myself in a salubrious dose of radiation.

Aching neck and back, soothed.
Stiff sore muscles from the hike in and the previous nights vigor, relaxed.
Step in, sit down, lay back, breath out, breath in, feel the warmth seep in.
Soak it up let it devour you, let it consume you and take you away.

   Aching tired feet, soothed.
Stiff, sore muscles from the prior nights vigor gone but the memory stays.
Dip under feel that warmth envelope you, cocooned again, inwombed again.
Senses hightnd  keen to the shrill of a whippoorwill, the sulfur gallivanting before your nose.
A touch on your shoulder shimmies down your leg to your toes, breath in breath out there it goes.

   Crisp the evening air around you, a little angel hug, her arms of fog the gentlest of touch still, it too shimmers to your toes.
Bright the moonlight through the ever thickening clouds still enough too see the silhouettes of the faces looking round.
Tranquility abounds in glory all around, where everything goes both noticed and unnoticed, you heard the shrill of that whippoorwill yet its call did not intrude upon your state of zen.

   Breath in, hold          , breath out slowly, let it just seep out  now feel that, yes, clean, crisp, rejuvenating.
Listen to the trees hear the old man in the forest he speaks gently to you, listen close, for what he has to say is for you alone.
When you leave this place, and you will go, you will leave with a since of euphoria and wonderment but your not leaving now.

   Even the others voices cant intrude upon this moment, cant invade this serenity.
Let go of the things in your mind that have been plaguing you, turn them out and block them from reentering.
Breath, dont forget to breath so that your lungs can purge all that need not be taxing your breth.
Remove all that encumbers or hampers you, its not needed and optional here now just relax and enjoy all that there is.

   Let the fog envelope you, breath it too in, its silent vapor a most refreshing breath.
Watch as a little flame dances before you then disappears, dances and disappears again.
Now watch as the glow that flame created slowly dies before your eyes.
Breath in while the flame is bowed toward your feet, exhale as the flame dances around your eyes and blinds you from the shadows and silhouettes.

   Let free the sole to fly around you to see what cant be seen by the naked eye that is hindered by its captor.
Here in this serenity and tranquility you can sore where eagles were meant to fly.
Here you can let yourself go completely you can surrender to whatever side of you, you choose, be it animalistic or or sensual, or it be tamed and conquered.

   I choose as I sit here in these hot springs to feel the angel hugging fog envelope me and hold me till Im delirious from her touch. I choose to allow the warmest breeze blow over me and let my sole fly away with it. Through the mountains around the river bends and out to the world at my feet, my oyster presented to me in a dish most pleasing to this minds palette.

I visualize men sweet talking
to a girl that illuminates innocence.
Beauty encumbers her shell though
making me even want to say a few words.
I continue to watch and admire
as a tool approaches her with the typical:
"Hey babe," as he walks behind her to dance.
She lets him too!
I see the look in her eyes.
She's not enjoying it.
Luckily I'm the DJ tonight
so I switch the heavy based rap jam
to something a little more romantic.
The faces all turn to me confused
and I say this,
"What's wrong y'all?
Did we forget about chivalry?"
She smiles and I know it's my time.
I approach her and look into her eyes
and through my dart:
"Excuse me miss, I couldn't help but
notice how your eyes glow so bright
that these strobe lights have a hard time
competing. Would you care to dance?"
She takes my hand and
we walk to the center of the floor.
We are so isolated because
everyone else, "is too cool."
We put on a marvelous show
holding each other and spinning
with our eyes locked into each other
the entire time.

Let my enemies stand before me
baring their fangs like wild dogs
as they circle around
minds racing
finding a weakness

Let them establish a plan
to drench the earth before us
with the stench of scarlet blood
whomever’s it may be
in the end

For I will fight the good fight
even if the last thing i swallow
is the pain that encumbers my every fiber
my last breathe will not be in vain
but one less they will be able to take

For my last giving moments
will be tough earned
and the last thing that will slip from my lips
will be a promise of vengeance
if that is the way the earth mote it be

MINESTRONE NIGHTS (on the summer of 2018)  
              
Deep in the incubus of fantasy
As torrid painter makes its art
Rips a flash of an epiphany
A plaintive whisper of the heart
Hobgoblin summer full of slobber
Beget febrile reveries unkind
As dance character’s macabre
A three-ring circus in my mind
Each minestrone moldy night
When body craves boreal slumbers
Akin cat on hot tin roof I fight
Dank sog my sleep encumbers
Comes morn aft time eternal
Half charged at start of day
Abscond sodden dreams infernal
Tormenting orb is up to play
I was hot before I even knew
Never really did cool down
Too warm again, for morning dew
Vague slumber’d avec frown
Haven't slept for an age or eon
Cadaver tacky to the tepid touch
Arise, trepid to perspire, like peon
Labour in this broil is just too much

©pofacedpoetry (Billy Reynard-Bowness 2018 – All rights reserved)

Ah, the rush is over and the battle is fought.
I come to my home and know it’s not got,
A hold on me or my family, though it thought.
Surely imagining us chained and caught.

But we hold steady, and always ready for fighting.
There may be striking lightning,
Or a dismal sighting.
However, we, are keeping the home loved, clean, and inviting.

I keep them all with me on my steps, because I am free.
The journey I choose each day keeps my glee,
Never would I choose to flee.
Until the day they’ve brought me to my knees.

Such a crushing day won’t come.
My people will not succumb,
Even with their silly, dumb,
Playful escapes. It’s what makes everything fun!

You’ll catch us in the sun, playing in the water.
Knowing our gates can’t falter,
Fortified with love and a magic filter,
And when we leave it piggybacks with us, as a watcher.

I am bound.
To see, the ones yet to be found,
As friend or foe on my ground.
A welcome is said, a miracle sounds.

We're all wound in light.
But mine is so bright,
So I share my might.
No matter the plight.

It's the good I can do,
In the day-to-day that will ensue.
To help guide us to,
The divinity within me and you.

Through the hard times, my kindness
Came from mindfulness.
All of the blindness,
Couldn't shield my colorfulness.

Not those woken from slumber,
They see my wonder.
What could outnumber,
What goodness encumbers?

The burdens of evil I suppose.
It hinders those,
Who cannot see the rose.
Presented for people with a nose.

A nose for finding a truffle,
On the path for solving your puzzle.
The key to all the hustle.
To receiving abundance without trouble.

I found it,
I help people out of the pit.
They find the bottom after a fit,
And sometimes I get bit.

But it comes with the territory,
Caring for their story.
Cutting the predatory,
Then doing something celebratory.

Enjoying the ordinary day,
I bring a way to play.
With the sunshine and its rays,
Some don't know how much it pays!

I'm rich in heart.
Because I play my part,
And study the art.
Given at each new start.

It's immeasurable, the wealth.
When you have your health,
And you grow in stealth.
What comes at the twelfth?

The last of our hours?
I'm unsure, but I want flowers.
To show what power,
I was so blessed and showered.

A soft thank you will travel the breeze.
Hopefully bringing an ease,
For those who weren't pleased.
At my passing and disease.

In anycase,
I know I found my place,
It's been staring me in the face!
What will come from this base?

A mystery for sure,
But nothing is as pure.
Then the futurous blur,
That is my life whir.

Since I've given a tour.
What do you implore?
Was there something more,
I could've given at the door?

It doesn't matter now,
I've given my vow.
There is much to how,
But instead, I take my bow.

As I gesture,
May you find pleasure.
On your journey of measure.
For it's a treasure.

I lay stiff at night with my memories haunting me,
memories of lost opportunities brought to me.
I was always to hesitant follow through.
It is a disease, in some ways it has helped me,
but it still delivers a slow, painful demise.

regret

The word is daunting in it's self let a lone the meaning.
I wish for no one to have regrets,
for I most of all know its pain.
I swim in a sea of regret,
the last boat has already passed.
Now I must learn to float,
or fall to the bottom as it encumbers me.

The sun was bleeding red rivers into the sky,
Whilst the sea calm, rose glass, brushed the sand.
And on my back the rock sat, heavy and cold.
My cursed friend, whose weight encumbers me.
Distant memories wash in with the tide
Curling tendrils of days long gone through the rivulets
Of my mind, in the days before I knew the rock.
But they ebb into the distance as the shoreline recedes,
Then slowly creep back in once more with shallow stealth.
I try to grasp hold, to retain the memory pre-rock,
But it is like trying to grasp grains of sand between your fingers,
It flows back into the golden blanket without identity.
And as I sit on the infinite beach of my dreams,
I stroke tenderly my rock, massaging the granite that clings,
Knowing its suffering is mine to bear alone,
And as the sun dips its head into the sea and the stars
Flicker a million greetings to me,
I head for home with my rock and my life lived.

love keeps you going..
it frees you… releases you… turns your world around…
coddles you…  nurtures you…  makes you glee…
love keeps you going…
it transforms you… converts you.. till you forget yourself…
slowly engulfs you… wraps you tight.. till u can't breathe..
love keeps you going…
torments you.. encumbers you…. makes you desperate…
breaks you…. hurts you… makes you bleed inside…
and still…. only love  keeps you going….

And thus it shall Be what it has to Be:
That through Visions my Encumbers resign
Though seemingly Common such Bonds percieve
The False Consensus our Species design
Even if Lines, recycled Past Films wear
Was once which our Former States approved
Now this Film - Unique in its own Themes bear
Had my Foul Viewings with Pleasure removed
That to see Her with you; Such Cheque makes Writ
Which haply Hopeful Qualified Dames cash
Then Sense and Realise just Bit-by-Bit
Your own Individual must Grow at last.
To be Mortal - Human - Flesh-Fingered and all
Be our Courage infuse to Rise from the Fall.

On my mind lately
The girl dressed in white
She encumbers me greatly
she hides out of site

On my mind lately
Our memories flash
right before my eyes
Mystery gives me this ****

On my mind lately
your beauty never ending
like one of a seducer so unclear
Of what you were intending


On my mind lately
The times shared
and the songs we heard
What made you run scared?

On my mind lately
our understanding
that was so apparent
You're not the one for expanding

My torturous fate solely seduces.
Muse, but never mate.
Dragged ashore, escaped from destiny,
To love each wounded scar.

Desire taunts curiosity, whilst love encumbers mine.
Seven years kept prisoner on the isle of endless past,
Each sensual diversion masks the drifting time,
Each embrace marks my eternal days.

Devotion flits from his somber eyes
Spirituality melting by the hour
Our interrupted unison ensnared in glances,
Past this pleading stare.

My hands built your vessel and fed your bones.
My fingertips launched the ship.
Yet I am left the sole prisoner,
Entrapped in immortality.

Poison eradicates flesh, though this hand is not of flesh.
Fire purges bone, though this hand is not of bone.
I remain the true prisoner.
Muse, but never mate.

Pain is the fine line between reality and depression.
It is the temptation to pick up the blade and cut again.
It welcomes the buzz that alcohol brings;
Pain is the lighter that helps me light my vice.

Pain is the sadness that hides behind a fake smile.
It is the hollowness that dulls the eyes.
It sprinkles bitterness in my laugh;
Pain is the scars that defile the body.

Pain is the cold winter wind that blows at night.
It is the darkness that chokes me when I'm alone.
It poisons my dreams and taints my sleep;
Pain is the weight that encumbers the beginning of each new day.

Pain is the need to call you on the phone but knowing you won't answer.
It is the "seen" icon followed by no reply.
It ties my stomach in a knot when I think of you;
Pain is feeling ignored and fading away.

Perceptions, like opinions,
are often set in stone.
Established like law of the mind
they are easy to create and laced with fallacy.
Even the widest gaze cannot see everything.
Through each strangers eye
a new “you” is manifested.
Thousands of “you” running through their minds,
but none of them are… you.

You are the master of your creation.
Based on your reality
you must adapt to cope with life.
For some the burden is less than others.
The spectrum of content and discontent
lay within the realm of perception,
and the inevitable unknown of external factors.

I once had a perception of self
too highly influenced by those around me.
Whose perceptions I foolishly held on to as truth,
for lack of a better understanding.
I self-destructed into everything
they wanted me to be.
Disingenuous and jaded
I shattered from the lie.

There is an unmistakable familiarity
with rock bottom
that I have grown to welcome as home.
The fall down is vigorous,
hitting the ground hard enough
to knock every molecule of air
out of your lungs.
You lay there breathless hoping that
perhaps this is the crescendo.
Once you decide to breathe again
you can rise up.

From the outside I am not a strong person,
about as average as they come.
I have an inexorable burden
that you cannot see.
Yet another perception
only I can perceive.
What I must do to appear normal
is utterly exhaustive.
Compile daily responsibilities of a “normal” person;
I have to sprint to compete with those walking.

In the shadows I can show the pain
but in the light I must remain in character;
an actor on a stage.
The endless mind acrobatics
twisting and pulling myself to fit this mold.
A mold I was never made for,
so it hurts to obey.
As much as it hurts, I remain silent
about the realities of it all.

Whilst I adapt to my environment,
you call me weak.
As I pretend I am not in pain,
You note I am behind.
I pour my energy into your sorrows
You consume, endlessly.
If I ask for this treatment in return
You point to my condition,
Note your perception of unsuccessful,
based on a reality
you’ve manifested
for me.

My reality is one only I can see
however, that doesn’t change the impact
of the failure nomenclature.
Comparing me to you or any other
encumbers my progress.
Your lack of understanding
is not my duty to teach you.
My façade is not for entertainment
it is for survival.

Away into the future in days we don’t know
Lived a girl with her dear mother’s wife
And abandoned traditions of decades ago
Made no impact on their joinéd life

The profane was normal and it was expected
That gender give no weight to love
And long dead protesters long since had defected
Though they lose peace long sought from above

But this girl was among those chagrined by their fate
Doomed to carouse in shades of grey
For no matter the forward evolution’ry prate
This upon her good conscience would weigh:

She cared not for caresses of sexes together
But feigned the feeling for fear of misuse
Resignéd to normalcy’s smothering tether
For her one-sided view was to others obtuse

They did not comprehend that her dead eyes did gaze
Upon silhouette man for whom her slow heart beat
And sat quietly she for a number of days
With contemplative question, enamor discreet

‘Till her lips formed the answer with truth late in coming
With sentences all but forbidden
Breaking the chains of society’s numbing
Sympathies quoted unhinged, unhidden

A love once forbidden by color of skin
A love once forsaken for money or pleasure
No more to be bound by the horror of sin
She opened to her mouth to declare without measure:

Affection is lessened by norm that encumbers
To love someone mirroring their ways with thine
It may disgrace you that I do not count in your numbers
I’m in love with a differing gender from mine

And lo that day not a jest was utter’d
To the maiden now soaring with spirit unshuttered.

The faint fauna falls behind me;
Thick coat encumbers my lumbering form
as I follow natures slightly frigid visage.
I am seeking something,
some soothing warmth
or soft storm
to calm my lonely soul.
I still seek some partner in life
but for now
I must settle for nature
as fair enough
for my affectionate love.

A readied man prepares himself for the schedule he can keep
But readied men are not prepared for the undetermined deep
The readied man will hold his page of dates and names and numbers
But those prepared for certain doom uncertainty encumbers

In I ride with fist held high
Burning gleam in either eye
Shouting upward at the sky:
“Burn the syllabi!”

Those ready men with paper sheaves, fledgling spears, and Pilot pens
Will find that with the chaos waves of fractal truth the world bends
And in the bending all exists as nothing more than blank code
So ready then your warships, but you’re tacking down the wrong road

In I ride with standard high
Burning gleam in either eye
Shouting upward at the sky:
“Burn the syllabi!”

The Four Horseman: Complexity, Uncertainty, Recurrence
Trajectory will maximise Lyapunov’s occurrence
Put on your scheduled armour and when you ride that rigid line
Remember that you penned it in and you claimed it would be fine

In We ride with fists held high
Flaming embers in place of eyes
Shouting ‘til the echoes die:
“Burn the syllabi!”

I aspired to draw a line in the sand
but I ended up carving a square.
It birthed a perimeter that wasn’t planned,
enclosing the emptiness of what was there.
If I could find the will to move my legs
I’d still plant my feet on either side,
but they’re dangling off each limb that drags,
dead weight bumping and bouncing along with the ride.

Stagnantly cushioning careless decisions
and finding loose lint among the remains,
stitching is falling behind the constant incisions
but surprised the pleasures match with the pains.
I’ll be going over, while falling under,
come run Red Rover, abstain or plunder.

I noticed the devolution of my skin,
in the irregular margins I jotted scribbled notes.
We could cut the cost with aluminum foil versus tin,
it could mimic barriers like our winter coats.

See my mouth refuse to further consume
my teeth are made solely to crunch numbers,
checking every inch within each room,
I can’t comprehend the routine this encumbers.
You supply the war
and I’ll supply the headlines.
We’ll follow the same pattern as before,
but now watch out for land mines

I poured the tears into stale water
and traced my hand upon the sun,
burnt fingertips but I thought it would be hotter,
and the brightness could blind if not stun.
Walk off the wounds from imagination
and get in the ring to face reality’s wrath,
I’ll take comfort in knowledge of my destination,
I never rerouted my destined path.

Visions that ripped the heart apart,
Dreams that made the soul a prisoner of passion,
     Visions that made the heart skip
And made the soul sighs.
The route that encumbers the spirit,
               And wearies the body
Dreams that made night a nightmare
    And daybreak an herculean task.
Visions that makes die
   And makes grow.
The envisioned life that requires Elephant as sacrifice and life's blood as drink offering
        Tell me this would be worth it.
© Adeoye Favour I.
@Favwrites
@Favcreatives

I am in the dark, squared by black and white
Four walls lacking roundedness frame my vision,
The light is golden on the shimmering leaves.

The days shorten, one at a time, the way leaves will fall
To the ground soon enough, after the pears swell,
Golden as the light on the shimmering leaves.

My life slowly narrows, a lane fading in the arisen,
My friends distance themselves with business and absence,
The golden spark in their eyes evanescing like the crescent of shimmering leaves.

My brain feels like a gold nugget, heavy with substantial matter
That encumbers the dancing space and molecule-shifting
Ahh, would my attention-love laugh and rejoice like the shimmering leaves.

Where did all the goodwill towards men go?
Flushed down the drain, please say it isn't so.
Darkness encumbers everyone and everything.
The show is now over, let the fat lady sing.
The past can't be changed, the present's where we start.
Sad but true, no one cares, so now we all fall apart.
Yes, there's still a few left, their flame's as bright as the sun.
But hope's near to zero, let's clock out, this world's done.
I hate to retreat, and run away from the fight.
But my self-preservation's my guide, finding shelter from spite.
People just want, to be sielfish and nothing more.
Rotting outside in, straight down to their core.
Morals have been replaced, by narcissistic tendencies.
Where there is no such sure, no treatment, no remedies.
The way good people shined, was as bright as Harvest Moon.
Now they play life like a game, only assuring their doom.
I'm completely mind blown, by how the world's gotten so sick.
Taking advantage of everyone they can, what a cruel and ***** trick.
You would think through these tragedies, how we stood together again.
It would unite us once more, seeing one another as friends.
But as soon as the dust settled, and chaos stopped its course.
We reverted back to enemies, hurting each other other, no remorse.
Being fake, hiding behind masks, is our only defense tool.
But that leads to nothing good, only more damage by fools.
So deep into hiding we go, being forced by their hand.
In hopes to not get sick by them, never seeing promised land.
We're becoming overrun, by this infectious disease.
Lord, please come again, and save us all please.
Our lives hang in the balance, with it all on the line.
Seriously Lord, come save your sheep, now is the time.
The more our hope crumbles, disappearing from plain sight.
Harder to see day by day, because they blow out our light.
"Be the change you want to see in the world", they say.
As if they had good intentions.
Taking your kindness for weakness and poisoning your soul.
With that one good incision.

D. Scaggs

"Five"

Death encumbers me as I peer out from behind my eyes.
I’m not there.
Time drips in an hour glass.
And we care only for what is not in our control.
Our death being the only exception.
It is not thought of at all.
We drink to forget the time that takes us to it.

Ya Know...
These Days I Now Wonder...
Does Anyone EVER...
Have All Bases Covered... ?!?

Because Being CLEVER...
Doesn’t Mean That Your Summers...
Won’t See Claps of THUNDER... !!!

And Now Corona Has PLUNDERED...
And CULLED Substantial Numbers...
Because It’s UNCOVERED...
A World Where Discomfort...
Has Left People... FLUSTERED... !!!

And A LONG Way From...
Having Their Bases Covered... !!!

It’s Caused Many Shops...
To Lock Their Shutters...
Because of The Loss...
of Money And Jobs... !!!

For Many Who Thought...
That Their Jobs Would ASSURE...
That They’d Never Be Poor... !!!

Or In Need of MORE...
Than... EVER BEFORE... !!!

Just To Keep The Base...
That Defines The Zone...
That They Call HOME... !!!

But Corona’s Brought Pain...
... Financial Strain...
And Stress To Brains...

Due To Lockdowns Meant...
To... Cover The Extent...
That This Virus Encumbers...
How Masses Now Govern...
... Sustaining A Wage...
That Helps Them To Maintain...

The Bases In Which...
Most Humans Now Live...

It’s A... Funny Old Thing...
To See What It’s UNCOVERED... !!!
About How People Think...
And What They’ll Restructure...
To Keep Their Bases Covered... !!!

Some Have Simply Smothered...
Themselves Under Covers...
And Joined The Crews...
Who Seem Confused...
As To What Is True...
About... This Flu... ?!?

So Have Quickly SUFFERED...
As Stocks Have Fluttered...
And Left Folks Lumbered...

With Some Pretty BIG Debts...
And The Types of Stress...
That Lead To Pressures...
And DRASTIC Measures...
To Avoid Being Left...
Like The Saying Says...

Thats CORRECT... For DEAD... !!!

Or Somewhat Discoloured...
Like... Certain Heads...
Whose Bases UNCOVER...
That Their Mind State’s Cluttered...

With A Load of NONSENSE...
About Their IMPORTANCE...
In The Grand Scheme of Things...

Where The Colour of Skin...
Can Bring BAD Things...
And Words From Racists...
Whose Bases Are Covered...

When It Comes To How...
They Keep Blacks Down... !!!

But The Thing That Is FOUL...
Is How Blacks Run Their Mouths...
About Having Things Covered...
But Suddenly... STUTTER...
When Racist Sounds...
Are Those That Surround...
And Leave Them Drowned...
And SAD Like Clowns... !!

Who CAN’T Cover The Frowns...
That Tend To Be Found...
When You Walk Around Towns...

Where Colonial Sounds...
STILL CLEARLY RESOUND...
Out of Mouths Who Shout...
About... How They’re PROUD...

of Looking After Those...
Whose Bases Hold...

NO DARK Skin Tones... !!!

And All The ******...
That Reach Their Shores...
Looking For Some Black Meat...
To FULFIL Their Need...

To COVER The Base...
That Makes Them CLAIM...
That They DON’T Embrace...
Things Like... Race Hate...

It’s A Crying Shame... !!!

To See The State...
of The Game That’s Played...
With Bases LOADED...
With Colonial Names...

UNTIL Statues...
Are TAKEN AWAY... ?!?

NO Ball In Play...
Just A Pitch That Makes...
For Embracing Ways...

That Should Have NO PLACE...
In The World... TODAY... !!!

But It Is What It Is...
When It Comes To Things...
Where Bases RESIST...
... Uncovering Things...
Where The Truth Exists...

It’s A... Funny Thing...
And A Strange Saying...
When You Really Think...
About How We Live...

All This Talk of KINGS...
Seems To CONTRADICT...
How It Is That MOST...
Seem To Treat White Folks...

Whose Bases Seem Covered... ?

While Corona Has PLUNDERED...
And DESTROYED Cultures... !!!

And Changed A Lot of Things...
For Those Whose Skins...
AREN’T Quite As THICK...
As They Were HOPING...

Which Leads Me To Wonder...

Who Really In The End... ?

Has...

... “All Bases Covered”...

Thus loneliness encumbers my shoulders and heart again.
It feels like a singular kiss, amongst a hail storm of hellstricken bullets.
Snowflakes in a garden of rust.
An amoeba separated from its kin, unable to split.
21 decided to be divided to 4.
Perhaps my worth as a wordsmith wasn't as great as I thought.
Thus the feeling draws on itself, in a constant art and motion, an Ouroboros Serpent.
Like how I used to stammer and stutter badly as a child, ironing myself out but falling and scraping yet never bruising my eagerness.
Nostalgia and adventure are just means for one to hide in security.
Perhaps one day, one day I'll fall in love again.
Baggy pants, oversized shirts and a lioness, wispy and delicate. But alight with fire, with life all the same.
And the rain fell on me, eliciting no tears, but ripped my pores apart, and whiffs of an old perfume, of ghosts. Playing to the tune of yesterday, I swept across with her. And I let her go, as the dust settled on my tongue and ash filled it, and was gone.
The lady who ran this place, bowed and closed the mausoleum, and I asked, "How much for your services?" And then she said, "You couldn't afford it."
I walked away into a wasteland blooming again. There's no sweet taste of victory here.
Only death's touch remains, all-cleansing and all-equalising.
I pick her up, and she said, "What took you so long?"
I sigh.
"It's nothing."