With one hand I can count my roots.
What have I left? Who is right?
It seems day’s dressed as night
Isn’t the sun meant to be, The Christ?
Like an atheist crusade in Saudia Arabia, a cloud switched off the light
Where am I going?
If every paths been beaten, by walking them, am I adding to the torture?
These taut virtues taste like battery acid
It burns to speak in tongues in the temple of my thoughts.
So I make melodies from metatarsals and meditations
Striding alongside the reservoir of motivations
I bear my cross along side man made war
To weigh stone cold silences mistaken for peace
My ears swallow to make a sum of my failures
Where am I going?
From the mourning comes englightening
If hades is broad statements, paradise seems narrow minded
I drink the colours from the sky and define me.
Is it called insight when you’re blinded?
I know, If I turn left, I’ll find right again,
I know I’ll find my fight just when I write without aversion
Without purpose, two feats don’t make a legend
It says walk with me
Sure as some steps forward feel like blessings full of curses
Perseverance is more than a purse of verses
Sometimes I want to turn every cyclist into the Icarus of the Trent and Mersey
Disperse them to permanent immersion with a note that says, Today you received mercy
Yet smiles and saluations from strangers dispense these urges
The grass is only greener when my circuits start e-merging
Although I stumble dividing colour because this trip it seems so purple
I AM Going
Her kisses blew my brain like the swirling winds of a hurricane
Heart had no time to melt I felt super humane uber-urbane
Tying tongues into unspoken embraces, fingers locked as the body ticked and picked its paces
Thoughts were cycling, the future was racing, I didn’t hear us click
But the pulsating, vibrations were devastating
It was a calendar moment but we weren’t dating
We just got caught up
In the thick of it
Re-awakened lust whispered like late echoes faint shadows
Our bond disconnected cupid from his arrows
We never sailed we paddled, this comfort we were glad for
Kindred souls with different roles but for each other a passion of sorts
Single/ Taken well who was what and what were we?
She was 7 I was 1,
Our kisses cooked with more passion than Raekwon
Invisible intimations raced like 2 cars on a figure 8
I was complex but she was the plane, not plain
Her eyes transported me away, wherever whenever I gazed
Our liaison could leave me ablaze, maybe not in good ways
See she had been through a serious series of malaise
I’d not been to sleep for a month and days
Was it a glazed view of sour souls we saw in moments of the day
Just mutual passion shared in an inebriated high jape
Were we really kindred souls, a couple on the make?
For I’d had dreamed us being, yet in that she was whisked away
How could a night light manifest as day?
Yet all I knew is we were everywhere and nowhere
Something thing and nothing like Alphabet function
Is our night numbered, would we see the day?
Is this game for real or is it just a screen play
For now we’d be quiet noise, like letters for a word poised
A stealth ploy, oxygen bubbles
Not yet on paper, battling our own rubble,
If I rumble in her jungle would my life tumble today?
Is she someone to whom I’d sign my life away?
We need to meet in the middle
So ABC meet H. I. J