"ludovico" poems
Replaying a riff four times perfectly
One missed fret and the entire day ends disastrously
Replaying moments of kindness and warmth
To overcome the feverish idea that I hold no heart
Every fourth step, threes end in ******
Maimed images constantly creep
This subconscious ludovico technique
These thoughts come and go in no particular order
A seat at the table and a serviette on my lap
What if I leapt out my chair and suddenly attacked?
What if I aimed the knife towards my hand?
I constantly question if that’s who I am
I will have a picnic with her today, all joy and cheer
When these intrusive thoughts will inexplicably get near
And terrorize my attitude as well as my image
Disassociating with a perplexed and horrified visage
I’m so incredibly tired of existing
A cruel and ironic fate
I’ve missed out on so many opportunities
All because of this miserable headspace
Sep 16, 2018
Sep 16, 2018 at 1:05 PM UTC
Her fingers caressed the ivories
So very lightly.
The tunes that played
Echoing sweetly.
*Nuvole Bianche,
Ludovico Einaudi*
The title, she said,
means white clouds.
To her,
this song
captures the feeling of utmost sincerity
that exist in the purest
of her heart.
To be able to stay soft,
even after passing through cruel hands of the world.
To be as kind as you can,
even if the world will not pay you back.
To go out of your way for others,
even if it will never be enough.
To be genuine until the very end,
even when the whole world is against you.
To be soft in this cruel world
might just be the strongest power
a human can possibly possess.
May 31, 2017
May 31, 2017 at 2:47 PM UTC
But how do I tell you about the things I've seen?
From the most haunting and daunting
To the very fabric of dreams
I've experienced love beyond measure
Traveled the world to hold it in my hands
I lost myself seeking that foreign treasure
and returned home a different man
Moonlit dinners on Italian cobblestone streets
Ludovico Einaudi providing the symphony
I've climbed mountains in The Alps
Drank straight from the snow melt streams
I witnessed the Black Wolf of Val Duron
and kissed a Goddess on those mountain peaks
I've stood shoulder to shoulder
with ancient warriors carved in stone
I looked them directly in the eyes
and felt an honest worthiness in my bones
I've laid on the beaches of paradise
been cleansed by the waters of the Aegean Sea
Slovenia, Austria, Greece and Italy
I can no longer recall who I used to be
Synagogues, churches, temples and sacred places
but all I seem to remember is how beautiful her face is
Like a collision of galaxies
Moving far too fast to ever coexist
We changed each other's world
and kept moving through the eclipse
From the Earth that inward pulls
Like the song of the last wild wolves
Nov 16, 2019
Nov 16, 2019 at 2:42 PM UTC
when the Kwabena Nketia twisted in proverbs
when the Seprewa strings plug to tune
when the Handel composed to interest
was it done for us?
when the Crosby played and sang
when the Amakye Dede planned to entertain
when the Vivaldi sat down to think
was it done on purpose?
when the Ludovico played to uplift the spirit
when the Fire side stories were told to be remembered
when the da Vinci painted to last
was it done for our generation?
yes , I believe so
may be the present generation are not informed
may be the present generation are not of interest
how can we forget our past
how can we forget our forefathers
how can we forget what we were born with
do we still have our cultural traits in mind
do we still have our cultural elements to be exhibited
do we still have something to be shown to the world
if not, let us go back to the old days
SANKOFA SANKOFA SANKOFA
WE ARE NEVER LATE ON DOING WHAT IS RIGHT
Aug 13, 2015
Aug 13, 2015 at 8:52 PM UTC
if you lock me in a room with your name written on the wall
all of a sudden
i will find it hard to breathe
Mar 20, 2016
Mar 20, 2016 at 11:58 PM UTC
There'a manicure kit
on the table,
And I'm filing my nails
As we speak now,
Getting ready my weapon,
Of gentle destruction.
I want to pinch you
Causing no blood,
But only loud shrieks,
For being so ignorant
Of all the telltale signs,
Pointing in the general direction,
Of where we stand today.
I had dropped hints,
And so did you,
And so did the universe,
And so did Ludovico,
playing his piano so quietly,
without uttering a word,
About our cosmic connection.
We seem to have
So carelessly missed,
ALL of it.
Great.
Now we both trace backwards
our journey together,
Lined like a breadcrumb trail,
Pausing at clues,
Dotting the route.
I fiercely tug at your shirt,
At every single one,
"Look! I said this,
And how long ago!
You couldn't even..."
Your face looks sorry.
Apologies come easily for you,
Forgiveness- for me,
Till you find the next one,
And say,
"Ha, what did I tell you?"
Now the tables have turned,
I smile, sheepishly,
Subtlety is key,
but maybe,
not always.
We tread along,
Finding another one,
And another one,
Indirect indicators,
of an expression unsaid,
of such simple love,
Till we arrive at,
The beginning of time.
You had said,
"I haven't known anyone like you",
"You will never", was my reply.
And now you have,
the rest of your life
to get to know me.
Hurry,
We have less time,
and lots of
catching up to do.
May 9, 2018
May 9, 2018 at 1:55 AM UTC