"matrimonies" poems
There is something painfully wrong about
a mother’s cry.
In those seizing moments,
while her nose twitches
and her eyes bleed red
and she lets tears smear
jaggedly about her face-
there is something so unsettling,
so
out of place.
You perceived her once invulnerable,
but now you find
that behind her divinity are familiar fears
that overwhelm her omniscient mind.
When your own Goddess
can’t be free from corruption,
that even the holy
have weak heels and poisoned matrimonies;
that is
agonizing acrimony.
Jul 22, 2018
Jul 22, 2018 at 3:55 PM UTC
I have met Masters and OGs
within joint commissions.
While my dear, Granddaddy Purple’s
spending my tuition.
But, it was merely a Blue Dream
at blunt ceremonies.
While Hindus and Afghans breed in
holy matrimonies.
Look at all of Mary Jane's strains,
I want to be like them;
stuck pondering my bud's embrace
and all’the broken stems.
Reuniting the Skywalker's
was quite like the Death Star
far out, in space and burns fast like
Sour Diesel’s quick car.
I rode the Pineapple Express,
then I hit the Train Wreck.
Lights out! The conductor demands
that we have our pipes checked.
Look at all of Mary Jane's strains,
I have plenty of them,
still pondering my bud's embrace
and all’the broken stems.
My bud's came less often and I
became less credible.
I told my bud Bubba that we
should switch to edibles.
“But, you can't eat these sweets unless
the treat's gradual high
stops your bud’s from disappearing.
You need me to get by!”
Where are all of Mary Jane's strains?
I need some more like them;
losing the embrace of my bud’s
and all’the broken stems.
All my buds have vacated me.
All that's left is Reggie
and Mid, who aren't like my kind buds;
they’re leaving me edgy.
I’m hanging with Mid and Reggie
hoping they'll come around
But now, even they’re gone, and I
have lost what was once found.
The strains of Mary Jane are gone.
I can't live without them!
I dream to see my bud's once more
and all’the broken stems.
Jun 22, 2014
Jun 22, 2014 at 11:31 PM UTC
in the penguins luck the furnace begins
at reprograming the news. Picture frames on 2 x 4s , three
photographs and glass bottles in the most decadent of matrimonies.
Three-hundred million dollars.
And the race riots show 'em who'll take the dampit from the mound of
Soot stained elements, canvas, trash bags, electric guitar riffs, giraffes, bingo, the drip-drop on the drop cloth. Easing into the new processor.
She who settles the wages of crickets with ether and single-barrel vanilla buckshot and maple. Incisors and cynical stereotypecastes and the shadows of the other mugged and loose canonical charades the worser and worsening play their ad keywords at in the sketchmakers many movements her dactyls fine and her fingertips many. Sweet lines of breathing and setting.
Feb 14, 2016
Feb 14, 2016 at 3:24 PM UTC
Unanswered fantasies are not discreet
Thoughts burned into the minds of the restless
Silent ghosts, tip-toeing with heavy feet
But they are not words for us to confess.
Lust for matters and things that cannot be
Matrimonies of what is and is not
With lullaby whispers we tame this sea
Wicked little details, only we’ve caught.
Yet somehow my body is translucent
Dull skin, thin and fragile with overt veins
Blood saturated with my existence
Tainted with the colors of love and pains.
Unanswered fantasies are not discreet.
Silent ghosts, tip-toeing with heavy feet.
Aug 23, 2018
Aug 23, 2018 at 12:23 AM UTC
Today it won’t rain it won’t bathe the soil
Our grasses won’t merry corn shall fall
Papa soon thank is guest on constraint eve
Over bloating his ego like Jaja not Opobo
Father wants to marry his 20th wife.
Well wishers, who will come? Our pastor
Soon sermon those one wife stories
My father hisses with gallon of palm wine
Pastor preaches thou shall not drink.
Fermented liquid that’s alcohol not him.
Two commandments my father said three
“Thou shall do as he wishes” father said
I will couple more matrimonies on earth
Then thunder struck the rain fell.
May 3, 2021
May 3, 2021 at 9:40 AM UTC