Tag Archives: poems
Perilous times have come, that’s what he said to me.
Days are but dreams, headlines are now a bed to me.
Grief and pain are like oxygen, peace is now dead to me.
What’s a warrior to his reflection if bull ish gives the lecture?
We die daily, not to sin but for the sake of being….here
As tears tear hearts, time’s words are stuttering to a whisper
Martin Luther or Malcolm?
The reformation shall be digitised.
Contact lenses become arm’s length embraces
Blue screen is cool if you can get it
We burn as charcoal, silently burning whiter than white
Why is it always so black and white?
Killing grounds we traverse as sacrifices in waiting.
What’s denial of our differences?
For the answer ask Rachel
We can’t remove our makeup!
Matter is an atom so where’s the thought for black lives
A hashtag is all that resides
We speak until we’re blue rarely reaching the bluest eyes
I’m living black going blue inside
Straight laces and jazz faces
The jack boot to the face to the pavement
Just another one erased
Binary bindings say war is thicker than blood
Sharks in hoods can’t clear their cache
Crop wasted like the Qur’an on hardened atheists
Yet blacks bear cross movements with little hope of resurrection
Minstrel mazes and court cases
Sour notes swish poor paintings
Beaten paths falling like gay pastors
Recorded on tape yet don’t own the masters
Chicanery air dropped
Drones divert and dividing clasps faster
What change did you expect on capital?
Hell we shall overcome
Soundtrack to crumbling paths
What’s a non-believers call to prayer?
Guerilla jungle fever or corporate chess
Guess they’re gonna tool those left
Circular arguments square rooted
Another mother weeps
Candles melt into vigilante passions
General lies and federal eyes stare down the truth
Demons fear Jesus not bullets
What’s a blind man to compass?
Rebellion or just is
Unrequited love leaves tortured souls
Dramatic excuse for a tragedy
They don’t know what lame is
Warmongers avoid life support
Tear gas terms of endearment
Smokeholds, choking given as hand rearing
Comply or die?
Comply or die!
Old jokes breathe new headstones
Murals of mockery manifested
No indictment from dim bulbs
Circus clowns got us fox hunting
Peace is a contestant bestowed on ex factors
Agents of shield marvel
Brothers gaming sisters instead of the master system
Laws raped by police force
Do the right thing, going viral or posthumous
We shall overcome sounds monotonous
Malcolm, Christ, Luther
Which Martin will you be plotted to
Who wants justice?
Who wants justice?
If creativity is a conversation and life is a season.
There’s no time to be dumbstruck for it’s a gift to be breathing.
We wear the books that we’re reading.
Some pages get dog-eared because we’re so consumed by our contents.
If a fore word gives direction you’ll be able to cut through the treason.
If the grass is always greener, are we green-eyed, hungry or ambitious?
Things don’t always add up when we get the vision.
The glass is never half or half when we find a source and leave the tap dripping.
Sometimes I wonder…
If wisdom is knowledge, is food for thought, is logic the knife and the fork?
Do we consume pain and pleasure with our hands or heart?
If life is an art and we are a creation, are we, as a translation of a recurring translation, to consider that we are life imitating art, what some call inspiration?
If that is the case we are painters, life drawing.
Our collages are collisions of the crass, the clean, the common and the convenient.
When wonder is water, why do some stop drinking?
When our palette dries we do.
Paper thin walls
They keep mixing colours
Blending her out
On those paper thin walls
Paper can’t cover the cracks
On those paper thin walls
A doodle draws a whimper
The thought of making murals musters mournful murmurs from those paper thin walls
Passed around like a guest book at a funeral
The feeling fading as they drive away
The whitewash isn’t cleansing
A broken slate is never wiped clean
She is only 15
Miss Paper Thin Walls
Laying bricks, roofless
All her rocks are demons dancing in the sea of safety
Her will shredded like leaked script pages
She’s an over plucked daisy
On her knees she a dress maker seeking out hope like a lost sequin
Wondering where was God when man destroyed the self she’d believed in
Miss Paper Thin Walls pores over scattered bricks
From the many times her box has been ticked she’s an exam in herself
Exiled from affection, ignoring the laws of attraction.
Hands that reach her are fractured to heal her scars
When she’s fully built she may be chasing cars
For now…..she’s in thrall to the casket of cat calls
These travails are an ailment of which no ointment can heal
When she’s fully built she’ll bruise the serpent’s head and heal
She’ll no longer be Miss Paper Thin Walls
The tidal rain of mirrors falls without hailing
A crowd surfing eulogy is read at rip tide speed
12 gun salute followed by six minutes and five seconds of silence
Our love is now driftwood on fleeting memories
These are my waves goodbye
Food mountains carved from grey matter.
Street parties powered by lamp posts
I climbed the ladder because I ate the most
From chattering classes I learned a bit.
Our weary aire was rare.
I combed the heirs of her sojourn
Cleaned my clock to know the time
Threw stones at glass houses so my seeds can breathe the sun
I have just begun, because
Eating from tableaus is unhealthy
More than an earthen vessel filled with spirits
I am the bar
To resurrect or drown need chips on the table
I check my hand and look to the dealer