For sustenance we trudge on
Just to sustain
This callus equilibrium of fragile crystals
swaying in the wind, falling constantly
Employing the cleverest techniques of fleeting upward momentum
Short-lived displays of affection bleeding the small offering received at birth
endlessly replayed to our children's eyes
Despondent indentured servants scribbling through skin and tendons
Just to feed their families the rice they can no longer grow
And sending these fairy tales to the rosy-cheeked offspring of their oppressor's store bought dreams
To keep the oppression alive .
To operate at peak efficiency.
To transfer honest muscle through wire mesh.
And fatten.
And enfeeble
Enforce the prerequisites to match the scale's testimony.
Testify! Oh, Lord. We thank you for this meal stolen from our inferiors.
Please Please Please.
We demand pleasure. IT IS REQUIRED.
For if we feel sadness, then we have failed.
And we'll lay down what we don't have space in our engorged bellies for.
It will be placed, with all due honors, to our greatest shrine.
Where we are honest with our real Mother.
Where the proud, twicely worn, footwear of our warrior-spiritless cows rests
Where erections limp as collapsed towers, respected by false jihads, sleep.
Where dream's plastic refusal composts never; nourishing nothing.
Where potential is pure impotence.
The bed we all share.

Eager men gather, a coalition snug in fortuity.
“Do” is their sentiment.
Vacant economizing is their doing.
Incorporating crisis trepidation intended to conceal true dealings.

A lofty story, nebulous and misty, cordially faces jeopardy.
Equality is never the aim for the uneven.
Humor them though, to their caprice show them what it means to be upright.
The uniform have no battle to fight, like the adage of the sage.
Both ponder in delicate hesitation, is this the moment?
Do I advance?
Do I relapse?
Have I any recourse at all?

Doubtful in whimsical inquiry
wishing to elevate such a state quickly,
be pleased with assumed explanations;
without debate, such a reckless undoing, will enfeeble us all.

Waste (wāst) v.     (1.) To use, consume, spend, or expend thoughtlessly or carelessly:    For hours on end we laid waste beneath the plastered moon. Our hands mimicked the stars weaved between a silked sky. The grass imprinting tallies into our back.      
(2.) To cause to lose energy, strength, or vigor; exhaust, tire, or enfeeble:  The tar wasted your lungs. It was the nicotine talking. We could never have a safe argument and now you are telling me that I am too much of a nice guy. Nicotine is the crutch between the crunch in the cracks that pry through the truth.      (3.)To fail to take advantage of or use for profit; lose: You wasted an opportunity to be with me. You are missing the reverberation of our laughs under the viaduct, and the tickle attacks when we played hide and seek.    (4.) a. To destroy completely. b. Slang. To ****; ******. The cigarettes wasted our relationship. My eyes couldn't take the second hand jaundice, being the second pair of wells you flipped your wishes into, this second pairs of eyes that understood you. Now they draw blank when they see you.     (5.) Garbage; trash. You had the audacity to keep your lips coiled to the cigarettes, than throw them in the waste basket. Countless weeks of me having to take them off your counter, from inside your purse, your backpack, I chose to become your waste basket. I carried your four year burden in my pockets. (6.) Regarded or discarded as worthless or useless. You were a waste of my time, a waste of my feelings, wasted space in my life.

Million miles away
             I stand
                           Alone like a lone tree
On a desert
                      Apart from thee
                                                   Yet thy love
Sprut through me
                                   And exult my heart
But trickle tears from my eyes

Million miles away
                              I hike
                                        Through the endless dunes to thee
                               All day but day
             When the blistering sun poach my breath
            And gets a quartre a mile
Million miles away
                                 The beautiful blue skies
         Alms me thy mirage figurine
                                                            But enfeeble to caress thy face
                                                 With a short hand
Million miles away
                                  All the letters I indited for thee      
                 And left in the whirlling storms          
                   Went afar but near                                                                                     Into the valleys
                                   And gradually parched my words

Million miles away
                                  The sun walks across in furry
                        As my hopes are burried
                   Ever to reach thee
         And preach my love

Million miles away
                                 Twilight comes
                                                                  And I wander in the midst of ghost shadows
                     My soul drowns
              Like am dip into the wells

Million miles away
                                Night comes
                         And I lied in the cold breeze
                   Dreaming about thy touches and kisses
                                   Yet I wake up ,
       With no side nor sight of thee

Million Miles Away
©Historian E.Lexano

youre bringing me down

not to the tank floor
where your image above seems distorted and oscillates
between grim and precious
but where you deflate me

below where my ego floats me
feet parallel
third eye perpendicular
like you and yours

bringing me way down

not below the bed (unless you like that kind of thing)
where only the darkened image of your lowest extremities are in view
only your most base visible
but you enfeeble me

beneath where my height normally is measured
knees grinding
clutching my claws
into the ground

down down down (man)

not still, submerged within the earth
where thistle and clover block my view of you
your tears watering my marble marker
but you pacify me

buried beyond my anxieties
placidity settling
astride my bone
to envelop my quintessence

Waste (wāst) v. 1. To use, consume, spend, or expend thoughtlessly or carelessly: For hours on end we laid waste beneath the plastered moon. 2. To cause to lose energy, strength, or vigor; exhaust, tire, or enfeeble:  The tar wasted her lungs. 3. To fail to take advantage of or use for profit; lose: You wasted an opportunity to be with me. 4. a. To destroy completely. b. Slang. To ****; ******. The cigarettes wasted our relationship. 5. Garbage; trash. You had the audacity to choose to keep them than throw them in the waste basket.  6. Regarded or discarded as worthless or useless. You were a waste of my time.

© Matthew Harlovic

I do not like Soyinka!
Except because I love him.
I do not like Soyinka!
That in obvious allure octogenarian man.
With whitish locks.
And this is my jocose to him.
That old jolly-jocund who's in a gay.

I do not wish to be garrulous,
Or loquacious.
So I will say
For I am an enfant terrible.
And I will enfeeble him with my euphoric words.
That elderberry with no egregious egotic lines.
I loathe him, yet loathing him.
Bend to him.
That fair dinkum laureate.
I hope this is not a lese majesty?
For I have penned this accord to his standard.

I do not like Soyinka!
Unless because I love him.
My sworn, utter coruscating model.
Is that I do not like him, I love him.

We sit see and yearn from afar
The landscape pride-flock'ed-people
In grid gift grieve, We cry 'Argh!'
Jealousy and envy make us enfeeble

We know our bus can get there
But our drivers are drunk
We know we shall get there
When our drivers aren't longer drunk

Our road to Canaan is unclear
Our bingers should rest on bunks
Less, our ignited bus will orb on a spot
Until the drunkards eyes is tears and clear

And alcohol in blood is no longer conk
Our bus to Canaan will orb on a spot.

Poet: Oluwatimilehin Adejumobi Alabi

One of the resourceful books unbeatable;
Children’s love, care and comfort biddable
Is none better than Reader’s Digest – capable.
Articles, reports, jokes and anecdotes audible;
All are present in it; all are undoubtable.
Changing the mindset of students capable
Is a new, systematic thing coachable.
Changing the world and its cannibal
Into the virtues and values bindable.
Explaining itself if anytime culpable;
And so is famous for being countable.
Teachers, parents, students ennoble
Reader’s Digest for not being enfeeble.
Leaders or followers who are like a crucible
Change their minds and be bendable.
Behaviour and conduct – key undoubtable
Will keep you atop, elevated, lofty and able.

Weak motion of instability
I count the years and the times you invade my body
I call out your name Pain. I called you chronic pain
I remember my first experience with you

You ******* the left side of my body, you weaken me
When I stood up from the bed, you held me down
No matter how hard I try to be strong, you enfeeble me
I tried to drown you; you swam back to shore,
And came back to shore with a vengeance:

You **** me in darkness; you humiliated me in the light;
You are not temporary according to others,
#Pain is temporary. Quitting lasts forever#

Nestling in my arteries, while enjoying my misery
I know your name is pain: I hate your games,

Stop choking my dream, stop following me
Let me howl, let me sing, let me dance,
Just leave me alone………………..Pain

Grievances
Enfeeble the innocent relation

Our fears have turned into our dreams,
And our actions do naught but enfeeble.
Our blood - thick and red - now flows in our streams,
And we are guilty of ******, for our own hopes we stifle.