"intentional" poems
Anything can
look like a poem
and sound philosophical
simply by moving
the words on
different lines.
Am I doing it right?
Is this
really
talent?
Art?
Effort?
I think I am trying.
Really, I am
I go back and change the order
and I break lines
where it sounds right
But it does not take me long.
Not at all.
I try to be
intentional
and call it natural rhythm.
Instinct and style taking over
I alternate between
agonizing every detail
like When to Capitalize
and publishing free form poems without looking over them twice.
How is writing supposed to feel?
Should I labor?
or should it flow?
Or do I get to decide?
I think the things I talk of
mean something
at least.
But am I just
pretentious?
fooling myself into thinking that
using common poetry formats
somehow makes my work worthwhile?
May 23, 2018
May 23, 2018 at 5:12 PM UTC
I feel the need to apologise for the way that I am.
I have no control, as if I was a computer programme.
I’m sorry that the slightest thing can shift my mood,
I’m sorry I can be impulsive and have a bad attitude.
This inappropriate anger is not intentional
and I swear to god
I know it’s unacceptable.
My friendships are a rollercoaster,
it’s practically bipolar.
One second I’m all lovey dovey
and the other second it will be as if you were never my buddy.
This is who I am and I hate it.
I’m sorry I’m like this,
I’m sorry I see no bliss.
Jul 19, 2018
Jul 19, 2018 at 12:54 PM UTC
Is it our nature
To cause intentional harm,
To make things suffer?
Do we find pleasure
When we terrify others,
Is this really us?
History has shown
A fierce beast resides within,
There’s a tame one, too.
All humans struggle
With Yin-Yang disharmony,
With the good and bad.
Some rationalize
There is a duality,
We’re devils and saints.
Humans **** humans,
Insatiable blood lust,
**** and **** again.
Humans help humans
There is charity and love,
How long will it last?
Is it our nature
To cause pain and to do harm;
Or, to pursue good?
Oct 11, 2010
Oct 11, 2010 at 6:07 PM UTC
We sat across the table
and I couldn't look away
from all his tattoos.
Without thinking,
I stretched out my hand
and extended my finger.
I began to trace
the arcade tickets that ran
the length of his arm.
He grew up with his grandfather
and they spent hours in his arcade.
His grandfather was his first best friend,
so the tickets they won were his first tattoo.
I could feel his smile grow.
He loved his tattoos
and now I did, too.
He left a mark on my life.
Just like the ink
on his skin.
I see him everywhere.
I can't tell if he tattooed himself
in my mind or under my eyes.
There's no escaping
or replacing him.
There's just no one like him.
He had a kind of goodness
that could be seen
in the smile that
would burn into the back of my mind,
haunting me for years.
He was just dorky enough
to get a laugh out of me
when I had the weight of the
world on my chest.
If you're lucky enough
to even know him,
he'll put a tattoo in you, too.
Whether you want it or not,
you will never forget him.
Trust me, I've tried.
He comes out of nowhere
and he helps you.
He asks for help
just as much as you.
It's just enough
to make you think
that he needs you, too.
God knows he was what I needed.
I needed him like
an alcoholic needs his whisky.
He was my whisky.
His finger tips
had a different kind of ink
and he was part of me with every touch.
I swear he had needles
in the tips of his fingers.
His touch always stung,
and now I will never
forget that sting
that is now stuck
in the parts of me he touched.
All the hugs,
the intentional and unintentional ways
that we touched.
They left their mark,
their pain-riddled stain on me.
The stains of him were left
with memories and stories
and they were attached
to songs that I can no longer listen to
and places I can no longer visit.
He came into my life so quick
and he left just as fast.
I think about him often.
I dream about him often.
It's like he stops in now and then
to catch up in chat in my sleep.
He took a part of me
with him when he left.
But his memories remain
and I don't want them.
I think about the goals he had
and I hope he achieves them.
I just wish I could be the one
that gets to congratulate him.
He will be leaving in August
and I will probably never see
or talk to him again.
But I will never be able
to forget him.
He is the one tattoo
I wish I could remove.
Feb 3, 2015
Feb 3, 2015 at 11:16 PM UTC
I'm afraid to stay in
I'm afraid to go out
I'm afraid of the words that leak out of my mouth
I'm afraid of my hands
I'm afraid of my heart
I'm afraid to share my music and the efforts of my art
I'm afraid of the judgement and the lack of support
I'm afraid they will laugh about my pain like it's a sport
I'm afraid of the things that I've left written down
I'm afraid of the sorrows in which I watch myself drown
I'm afraid that somebody is seeing the real me
I am vulnerable here and alone as can be
I'm afraid that my God isn't listening anymore
But I'm much more afraid that I've made his ears sore
I'm afraid to hold on
I'm afraid to let go
I'm afraid to tell the people
I fear what they already know
I'm afraid that I want too many things I can't have
I'm afraid to make myself into an *** and a half
I'm afraid that I'll hurt you
I'm afraid you'll hurt me back
I'm afraid I'll get caught doing what I don't know is bad
I'm afraid of my own journey, will I ever make it back?
(intentional music break)
I'm afraid to write down all of my silly fears
I'm afraid that I'll be in this same place in five years
I'm afraid of the world and the people that are in it
I'm afraid to start off and not be able to finish ****
I'm afraid to play it safe
I'm afraid to sin
I'm afraid of defeat
And I'm terrified to win
I'm afraid of my Mom's sickness taking her life
I'm afraid to be devoured by the same form of strife
I'm afraid if I get famous, it won't be enough
I'm afraid of all the money in the world calling my bluff
I'm afraid that no matter how much happiness I reach for
It won't be enough to repair the pain in my core
I'm afraid that I'm causing my family too much pain
I'm afraid that when I'm gone the world might move the same
I'm afraid that I'm crazy
Even more scared that I'm sane
I'm afraid to be afraid
I'm afraid to be brave
I'm afraid for the kids in this world that feel the same
I'm afraid to write these words down in front of my own face
I'm afraid that, out of fear, what I've written will be erased
For concern of others like me, that would be in poor taste...
So I'll let this one out and pray that I touch base
I'm afraid to be feared for the fact that I'm afraid.
© KD
Mar 6, 2016
Mar 6, 2016 at 1:14 AM UTC
We all bear scars in one way or other.
Some from loving someone too deeply and some others from losing someone or something that you cared too much for.
Some scars are intentional while some others exist for stupid silly reasons.
Some we are but some we are not so proud of.
I have scars all over my body.
All over my mind and all over my soul.
I have scars on my brain due to over thinking and over analyzing incidents that haven’t even happened yet.
I have scars on my eyes for shutting it more often, for being blind to things that should’ve been taken care of.
I have scars on my nose from all those endless snobs and sniffles from my horrifying past relationships.
I have scars on my mouth from speaking the truth, only the truth and nothing but the truth.
I have scars on my neck from getting choked up on false love and fake proposals.
I have scars on my shoulders from lifting up responsibilities that I was accustomed to from an early age.
I have scars on my hands from holding onto things that weren’t supposed to be mine from the very start.
I have scars on my chest from my ice cold heart that has been stomped over and over multiple times.
I have scars on my lungs from the “occasional” stress buster cigarettes that I am addicted to every now and then.
I have scars on my stomach from one too many butterflies that flew when we first met.
I have scars on my legs from running, miles away from people and that place I used to call home.
I have scars on my skin from the many tattoos I got done that helps me reassure my self-worth.
I have scars on my soul from trying hard to pull myself together, calm me down and compose myself through the rampant storm that’s been raging in my life.
I have all these scars. All of them.
And they don’t scare me now even though they hurt like hell, at times.
They’ve become a part of me and looking back, they are just reminders of who I was, what I have been through my life and the person it has made me become.
They don’t scare me anymore because they define who I am now.
A survivor.
Mar 10, 2018
Mar 10, 2018 at 2:04 AM UTC
I Was In Darkness
Suffering With Pain
When You Came Into My Life
With A Ray Of Which Is Meant To Shine
I Couldn't Believe My Eyes
And What I Was Feeling
So I Kept On Asking Myself
'Are You Sure You Are Not Dreaming? '
I Was So Happy
To See Things Turn Around
But There Raised A Situation
Where I Had To Stand My Ground
You Might Feel It Was Intentional
But Believe Me It Was Purely Circumstantial
I Wish You Were Here To See What You Are To Me
But Then Again I Can't Just Make You See
I Wish You Realize How Much You Are To Me
But Then Again I Can't Just Make You Notice
All These Might Be A Just A Couple Of Words To You
But It Is My Heart Which Is Pouring Out Here
All This Might Be Just A Drama To You
But This Is My Life That Is On Line Here
I Really Don't Know How To Make You Understand
When You Are Strongly Fixed That I Will Never Understand
But Still I'm Glad I've Fallen For You
Because You Are The Best Thing That Happened To Me
Nevertheless I Just Want To Let You Know By Saying This
That You Are The Unexpected Love Which Swept Me Off My Feet! ! ! ! !
Aug 12, 2017
Aug 12, 2017 at 10:10 PM UTC
You know how the Lorax spoke for the trees? I feel the need to speak for my four-year-old niece. Not because she can't speak -- she can and rarely stops once she starts -- but because there are certain concepts time has yet to grant her. So until time does, I got you covered, Lucy.
Mommy,
you call it the "poetry" of a child's sleep,
ohh 'n ahh, she's so, so sweet,
I call it child's "pose." Not the yoga neither.
I'm posing and rolling and cooing
biding time until you're tripping on the
Ambien retreating to a dream.
You're only reprieve.
'Cause when your *** is asleep,
I be mixing up the Play-doh,
red and yellow, black and white,
'till it's 50 shades of brown, alright?
Dirt pies from the backyard,
put 'em by the brownies
in the morning world-weary in your pajamys
Slip-up, slip-up, I smell a slip-up.
Ain't a direct threat, Queen Buttercup
because you'd just say, "I ain't afraid of you, shorty."
Blood flow. Blood slow. Simmering, saucy.
Mommy, looking down skyscraper balcony.
May I remind, a giant ain't bringing down Manhattan,
It's that little, wayward wrecking ball, eh Captain?
Over my shoulder, drinking from a thermos --
stumble in your step mean you gettin' nervous--
hand me piece of paper and two crayons
macaroni orange and swamp water liaisons
these coloring sheets are so bourgeoisie.
These coloring sheets are so bourgeoisie.
"Color outside the lines, eh Lucy?
don't play by the rules," my Mommy say,
but I been around long enough to know dat
'dese rules pay. Outside the lines? Is just uh sloppy.
Been outside the club in front of the line
with my fellow shawties.
Slip-up, slip-up, I smell a slip-up.
Ain't a direct threat, Queen Buttercup
because you'd just say, "I ain't afraid of you, shorty."
Blood flow. Blood slow. Simmering, saucy.
Mommy, looking down skyscraper balcony.
May I remind, a giant ain't bringing down Manhattan,
It's that little, wayward wrecking ball, eh Captain?
Chicken and fries three meals-a-day.
Chocolate milk three meals-a-day.
Tricycle boys three wheels away.
Hands on your hips can't make me stay.
Lego blocks lodged in your skull.
I've hid the Advil. The Dayquil. Drank the Nyquil though.
Alright, alright, time to get confessional.
All my ***** accidents are intentional.
I melt my own Barbies to feel alive.
Snort glue sticks just to get hella high.
Mommy, you've got a messy ketchup face.
Mommy, you've got spiders in your hair.
Mommy, you've got ****** on your pants.
Ha. Ha.
Ha. Ha. Ha. Ha. Bi-otch.
Blood flow. Blood slow. Simmering, saucy.
Mommy, looking down skyscraper balcony.
May I remind, a giant ain't bringing down Manhattan,
It's that little, wayward wrecking ball, eh Captain?
Apr 18, 2013
Apr 18, 2013 at 7:29 PM UTC
a birthday poem for S.
perhaps, this is the responsibility, the purposeful gentility,
that poetry engenders, that thwarts the impulse to anger,
guiding away, finding a way, to temper the temper, to out
and joust away our basest, our first, but never our foremost
nor finest, succinct instinct, yet terrible human nonetheless...
perhaps, this is where we hide, neath our carnival masque,
our-would-be better selves, and struggle in this, this intensity intentional,
the season's change is subtly blatant, not obvious 'cept to those
who have a front seat, a well worn Adirondack chair in the nook
where the airy breeze offers fruits of words so easy, pluck words
as easy as breathing, and the slight gradation change, in the light and
temperature, and yet, the suns cares not, for it still warms my body,
though lower and slower, nonetheless, when the heat invades my soul, confirming my, our, existence,
burning off the fog of our contradictory confusions,
and eliciting an unsolicited
"thank you god"
for my, our personal miracle of re~birthing
and better comprehending,
that other
miracle we can embrace
never enough
loving kindness
sun~mon
sep 14~15
twenty twenty five
Sep 15, 2025
Sep 15, 2025 at 8:33 AM UTC
I am a sculpture
Of life' beautiful scars
Frightening when viewed too close
Perhaps better glimpsed at from afar
Twisting wounds
Healed over scratches
The heart entombed by loves hand
Blood covered latches
Oh masterpiece
Of intentional cuts and scrapes
Purple raised blue bruises
Hidden carefully from the world
I employ delicate spiderweb curtains
And my sleight of hand illusion's
It is only the bearer who understands
Where the deepest wounds are hidden
Bitter tears in a deep bottomless chasm
The unforgettable kiss of affections contusions
These shadows must never be loosened
Forever restrained even by deception
Guarded by spiderweb curtains
And sleight of hand illusion's
All Rights Reserved@ Tammy M. Darby Jan.13, 2013
Feb 25, 2014
Feb 25, 2014 at 10:09 PM UTC
The world around me is silent.
I can see the leaves floating,
in mercy of the crisp wind.
I see the children playing,
too young to know the pain that
drips from the intentional wounds in my flesh.
I see those who were once my friends,
holding hands and kissing the one's they love.
All this life goes on around me,
still I hear nothing.
Nothing but the sound of my old self screaming;
locked away in that special place inside of me,
to which I've seemed to have lost the key.
Nov 13, 2012
Nov 13, 2012 at 6:06 PM UTC
I still hear the ocean
whenever I close my eyes.
"I love the beach," you said.
I looked at you then
with a grin on my face.
It wasn't intentional
but I used to make those
when you were near.
I guess it meant I'm happy,
or stupid enough to believe
what you say.
I still feel the sunset—
its glow, the overrated
orange skyline,
the melancholy it
wrapped us in.
A subtle reminder that the day
was about to die
and that it's so **** beautiful
when it does.
I told you this kept
my heart beating.
You were too quick
to agree.
Maybe that's why
you had to leave.
Maybe you liked
the sunrise more.
Dec 12, 2023
Dec 12, 2023 at 3:56 PM UTC
Just as you are different to me,
I cannot understand you.
Every move you make
Every thought, expression
That passes across your eyes;
They say eyes are the window into the soul
But your eyes are expressionless
Blank as a stone slate
Cold as a stone slate
How could you **** someone?
Don't you feel guilty?
The dark malice hidden away in those beautiful eyes
Spur-of-the-moment thoughts, uncontrollable impulses.
How did I fall for you?
People still ask me, every day.
Do you still love her?
How do I answer that?
All those memories we shared,
Every photo taken,
I still look back at them, sometimes.
And feel the toxic rush of happiness
Of fondness, of love.
Love for a serial killer.
While you comforted me,
Gently held me,
Assuring me,
Everything was going to be alright,
You tortured, tore apart others
Who were different from me.
You're a murderer, a criminal.
You took a life, intentional
Every move and calculated plan
All executed like a falling guillotine.
Unstoppable. Deadly.
How did I fall for you?
People still ask me.
I still remember, the memories we shared.
Every gentle word and loving touch,
Filling me with toxic happiness.
How did I fall for you?
How do I answer that?
The best answer, I think,
Is that you were different.
Dec 7, 2020
Dec 7, 2020 at 9:38 PM UTC
All alone, again
Feeling meloncholy and captive
Within a cloud of intentional isolation
As each thought comes and goes without an answer.
Memories flicker in the crime scene of my mind.
My perception is clouded by questioning every suspicion.
As I try to stay unemotional and rationally make doubt my enemy.
This day has now ended and I have not made a decision.
Wondering when indecision and fear have intersected in my life.
Have I become so insouciant that I am blinded?
As I grow old and in my final hours, could this be my biggest mistake?
I am unwillling to dwell in the present and find happiness again?
Hours spent suffocating myself with regret
Tried to harden my heart to the point of no return
But, I perservere and try to rise above the abundancy of pain.
Licking the salt from my tears as they drip to my lips.
I now lay down, so silent that even my breath is quiet
Asking if the pain is worth the possibility of a true love that will last.
Will he crush my heart with unintentional love for another?
A chance, I guess, I am willing to take. Or too soon?
I can only pray that the right answer will come during my slumber
And it will be within the will of my creator
Praying that my dreams will be filled with the answers that I seek
And tomorrow will be full of love, trust and loyalty.
May 29, 2015
May 29, 2015 at 1:12 AM UTC
to more than I can be...
a sad isolated man,
throes of an agonizing,
stretched by her for painful
revengeful gain,
kissed with pointless avarice, divorce.
children deeming
him alienating, his faulty
insensitive sensitivities,
to easy blame
little do they know of the
piercing lowliness, the looniness of
nights he listened to sad-eyed singers,
and his late-of-mid of night scribbled scripts,
where he
off loaded the agonies of a midlife
disaster, not entirely of his-own
sown making,
but still his to bear and bare alone...
some accidents happens for unintentional,
unintended intentional new seasons appear,
stumbled, tumbled, fumbled his way onto
this H~oly P~lace, where someone might listen
to his explanations, expiations, excoriations
of his all too common tragedy, and said:
this broken human, he's got his reasons,
read his overly long treatises, his entreaties,
to those that prowl, rowing, in this corner
of the silence of the internet, where only the
trolls, the cold, the easier to-be-meaner oft thrive,
and found none of that, but an oasis of sheltering,
embracing comforting, those who actually admitted
his writings could be loved, and perhaps the writer
himself, was
deserving
of a second chance, a verbal embrace. a rereading forgiveness,
a pat
on his natback, a sympathetic sensory intaking,
and perhaps-this debt, eternal, that put the
for and the fore in a new baby born, named -
new forever
came into existence
the very same
e
that begins those conjoined words
***e~ternally grateful
"and now I sleep in peace when the day is done"
but the night time
is still the
write time
Sep 13, 2025
Sep 13, 2025 at 11:42 AM UTC
It wasnt long before the baluster flapped somewhere in the distance and Icarus knew how old he had been on the day of his birth. For whatever reason, the snow capped cappuccinos he had willfully destroyed in a heated debate on fiscal policy had him beginning again. Why was there always a beginning where there was an end? Fur traders used to circumnavigate the Hudson's Bay of his humanity when he was young, sharing drinks and fire water whiskey like it was all an H2O ready for the soul search. Sadly, many ended up in Hitlers concentration camps weeks after the **** invasion of Poland, about a month or so before the fall of the Roman Empire. Beginning with a last breath, Icarus strode off the plank with a new-found confidence unnatural in his niceties of long past. It was as if 1 minute and 35 seconds was enough to dish a clamouring populace onto the dinner table before the fat step-father gleefully orders
everyone to 'dig in, everyone!'
Cancelling everyone's appointment with Dr. Pardon meant the gaining of a key participatory certificate in El Dorado, and the gold lingering in dusty sun-beams was sifted for the taking. Some got rich, the rest got miserable. The rest used to imagine the gold, staring at ivory towers and lottery tickets, apple cores lording over old public servant applications near the city hall drain pipes as the modern world collapsed into a flash-mob image of Ronald Reagan.
Icarus was a sliver of duskish light flittering a top distant windowsills, all cupped in an intentional light because happiness was as possible as sadness. Not that considering either would make you either.
Icarus slept as his wings incinerated at the first glimpse of the solar system. He now believed every single proverb the old ***** slumbers had whispered their children as they woke to find themselves adults.
In the beginning he found the beginning beginning again. It made him feel however you wish. Both were just as possible. Both were just as much a jazz configuration as a smooth and easy guitar rift.
Ahha!
Apr 1, 2013
Apr 1, 2013 at 5:31 PM UTC
You're thirteen, sorry fourteen this week
You think you know the world, have it figured out
You think you know yourself, without a doubt
Let me tell you some things I learned when I was about your age
I learned how to go from popular ***** to no good freak show
Nothing but an ipod every day at lunch, no friends, no food
I learned that I had addictions that I didn't know even existed
I learned how badly I wanted attention from his hands, his mouth
I learned what it like to be violated in the worse most degrading way
I learned how to get high
I learned that the intentional pain I'd always caused could be
A harnessed tool to cope by
I learned that if I stopped eating altogether no one cared
I learned what it was like to think you loved someone
I learned that I liked girls
I learned what girls could taste like, feel like -- what I could feel like
I learned that I didn't like girls
I learned what it's like to have people spread rumors about you
I learned what it's like to try to drown yourself then feel guilt
Guilt about your little brother who would have no idea why
You little ******* it wasn't long after that the violence between us started
You're big enough, strong enough to do damage on the family pet
I'm the family pet, you think you know but you don't
You've been calling me names for years
But you don't know how true they are
You think you love her -- you don't know love until you're nothing
When you're nothing and this skinny little kid everyone hates saves you
This annoying as hell kid who shows you that
The world isn't as dark as you thought it was
This kid who loves you not for *** not for bragging rights, but because
He sees this skinny little bird who lost her feathers and her wings
And is waiting to die and he thinks she could be beautiful
She thought she knew who she was before but he helped her find it
Soon you'll be fifteen
When I was fifteen I couldn't find my skinny little kid, he'd changed
Not for the worse but away from me
I fell into old habits
And new ones
Deadly ones
I changed back into the addict, not eating, not sleeping, sniffing, watching, cutting, stabbing, nothing
I covered myself in laughter, hysterical and crazy
I became quiet
I fell apart more because of guys, complete ********* guys
Like you're turning out to be
Don't think you know everything, that you're an angel
Because I was ****** up at six because of what they did
You were ****** up at four because of him
Both were accidents, but as you can see in me from six to seven
To nine to eleven
To when I was your age, all that happened was
I got ruined because of the secrets
The ones no one can know
The ones that when crossing paths with the world **** you inside
You can't see that yet
You aren't aware that you're broken
Now you're **** well old enough to
Wake Up
Nov 29, 2014
Nov 29, 2014 at 12:27 PM UTC
whatever happened to communication?
i'm trying to speak to you
wanting to get through to you
and what do you do?
ignore me.
that hurts.
maybe it isn't intentional,
and i know i'm overly-emotional,
but don't put me on the sidelines when i speak to you,
not in the middle of a conversation i'm trying to have with you.
when i'm trying to help you, trying to have you...
i just feel so ignored.
i just feel so...
lonely when you don't speak to me.
it's a lack of communication causing separation
and it makes me feel like my life's wasted
when all you do is forget me here.
well... it's all i can do to say i love you
and that i hope you come back, i really do,
and i'm doing all that there is to do
to get you here, to be closer to you.
that's what i'm trying to do
through this lack of communication.
Feb 4, 2014
Feb 4, 2014 at 1:17 PM UTC
maybe it's okay i don't feel anything for you anymore.
maybe it's okay i've moved on.
i am no longer fueling the fire of the hatred you possess for everyone you can't understand.
you couldn't understand me.
i didn't want you too.
i was unpredictable and selfish.
you were naive and hateful.
i want to get better.
you want to subject more victims.
i can live without you.
you can't live with knowing i no longer care.
i've always known how to torture you inside.
you always knew how to push me to that point.
i'm happy knowing you're still sad.
i am happy knowing you're in pain.
i'm ****** up.
but you ****** up.
now you can't live with your mistake.
but mine was always intentional.
that's the thing that made you so angry.
the thing that you could never understand.
how could everyone always forgive me?
i guess i'm simply oh so forgivable, honey.
Mar 23, 2018
Mar 23, 2018 at 2:08 PM UTC
There’s no if or almost in tennis or with love
No half feeling it.
No hitting half in.
Your mind cant be there one moment
And not be there the next
Love is everything & nothing at all.
You can be too bitter
Not to hit a winner
Love & tennis will play you just the same
With It’s tough game.
You must keep your eye on the ball
Trying not to hit the intentional pitfalls
If not played right on the line
Will knock you out every time
When you stretch to make that shot just right
Of continuing to believe its worth the fight
Logic & emotion intertwined
Remember love & tennis are just games of the mind
Aug 25, 2018
Aug 25, 2018 at 11:33 AM UTC
Poverty is a curse
A plague to be avoided
Work smart, lest you be poor
You too can cross the line
That very thin line
That separates the poor and the rich
Just take steps of faith
And be intentional
Poverty robs you of your ego
Makes you less of a human
But are people really poor
I guess not, just lazy I think
If you can get your hand *****
You will never lack what to eat
Run from poverty, faster than Usain Bolt
Do nothing and poverty looms
I just hate the coffee called poverty
How can I rent my wife to tourists?
Who does this for Pete's sake
This must be a spell
Is it a marriage with benefits?
Please help me ask these East Africans
How do you rent your wife to tourists?
That women have local and foreign husband!
Do we need to be re-colonised?
Again I say "Tufiakwa"
I don't care your tribe or race
Poverty is a universal plague
And winning starts with the right attitude
If truly you can think enough
That which you have, is just enough
Together, let's kick out poverty
It begins with you...
Oct 21, 2019
Oct 21, 2019 at 5:38 AM UTC
You can get it wrong, at 1 a.m.
If you listen to the whispers
of the blue smoke.
Intentional bruises sneak in between the thunder and we build our altar on the ashes of tradition.
Now.
you are My sugar.
The drums and whistles of our dead keep rhythm as we dance alone in the cold of our
Great Nothing.
You can get it wrong at 1a.m.
If you wait for the smoke to clear.
Apr 17, 2013
Apr 17, 2013 at 2:36 AM UTC
Can't breathe
Can't see
Can't Speak
I'm drowning
The harder I try the further down I fall
My air is running out
my lifelines are calling in a rain check when I need them the most
Everything around me is getting dark
Slowly getting darker and darker
All the words that I want to say get stuck in my through waiting to tumble out at any give moment
but stuck together
They'll never suspect a drowning
Accidental or intentional
I've been fighting for so long
With on one else on my side
beaten and worn
My oxygen levels are falling
Heart rate slowing
maybe then I'll find some peace of mind
Can't breathe
Can't see
Can't speak
Slowly drowning
just tired of it all
No one will ever suspect a drowning.
Oct 9, 2014
Oct 9, 2014 at 11:09 PM UTC
My very first hello was intentional, focused
You say i never gave you a chance, i just overwhelmed and took over
I was intoxicated, i still am
I saw the fortress around you but i refused to acknowledge, I'm relentless like that
Came into your shell and took over
Got into your sheets and dreamed well
I looked straight into your eyes and you held my gaze, baby I'M HERE TO STAY SO FALL ASLEEP
I watched your chest heave and your eyes lift
You say i drove you crazy but you were the engine
It's all very new so i act like a learner in the drivers seat, buckle up baby.
Butterflies rip apart my stomach
Euphoria took over my soul, you make me smile
I took a hit of you and now I'm high on life
You asked me what i want
We are still young for you to handle what i want but one day soon, when your mind nests in my heart and our eyes lingo suffice
For now I'll settle
Aug 2, 2018
Aug 2, 2018 at 3:21 AM UTC