The thrilling bliss of reading one’s own verse
Cannot be described in one crafted line
I weave a world, a tapestry of dreams
My thoughts, my canvas; my words, my weapon
My writing, a reflection of my strife
The muse, sometimes fickle, a bitter pill
My masterpiece now riddled with mistakes
The page is blank, my whispering wand still
Critics lurk in shadows, waiting to strike
Clueless, my muse left my talent on hold
THESE WORDS I TELL MYSELF, WITHIN A CELL
THESE WORDS I TELL MYSELF, DRAGGED BY A BELT
THESE WORDS I TELL MYSELF, IN SHEER DISSENT
THESE WORDS I TELL MYSELF, MOURNING HEYDAYS
THESE WORDS I TELL MYSELF, ROUSED BY THIS HELL
THESE WORDS I MUSTER IN SEARCH OF VERDICTS
THESE WORDS I MUSTER AS WE COUNT THE VOTES
THESE WORDS I MUSTER UPON BALLOTING
THESE WORDS I MUSTER AS ELECTIONS NEAR
THESE WORDS I MUSTER TO HOIST LASTING HOPE.
There was once upon a time in my life
When lemons gave me more than I could ask
My worth was not defined by my accent
Compliments I received were real and true
And pure joy was only a smile away
Suddenly, lemons turned brown, though once ripe
What I looked like now defined my next task
Friends who used to be friends now play pretend
Only then did I realize the truth
That bliss is always a valley away.
Ever so drained, you feel like a weakling—
Hiding your pain, you wear a smile for whom?
You lay on shoulders, seek solace in whom?
Even when depressed, tell Satan "Can Sir"
Even in self-hatred, do think of love.
Burn it out, let happiness be your aim
“Cancer” is not a shame; he guns for fame
“Cancer” is not a shame; keep fighting.
Shout it loud! For joy cometh in the morn.
Cancer is not a shame; keep fighting.
Oh humanity, I look upon thee
And ponder the woes of my fellow fille
To the world, the girl is a useful waste, To society, the girl emits shame.
A girl to a family is a gain—
A perfect product of our creator.
Developed to be nurtured by nature, Created to be a blessing to all.
I remain a conqueror, no matter
The situation. I remain myself.
Hanger
Happiness could be a great provision.
A location for the allocation
Of cool weather within empty bellies
And shaming the enemy of hunger,
Making a man mad, subject to anger.
Disastrously disastrous disaster
Void light, firing vapour, sunny weather
Eyes down, aching belly, hands scratching head
Wishing for a vision of provision—
Manna will be what we look forward to.
Followers
I am followed—wish to be forever.
I have full peace and get to be favoured
I shall go far and go even farther
Stand in solace for faith in followers
Beckoning on a friend that backs me up
Ah! You are followed but wish not to be.
Mind musing on who offendees could be
Confused where to go where the going is.
Fidget in dreams for fear of followers
Beckoning on death to finish you up.
“Scarification”
For three wide marks a cheek, I’m an outcast.
Marks that raise my beauty and tradition
Repulses even members of my caste.
I suffer scorn for an ethnic symbol
My beauty marks are made a source of pain.
Now, foreigners admire my beauty marks
Members of my caste are green with envy
Because my marks are sought after worldwide.
The whole planet seeks a glimpse of my marks
Three wide marks, the uniqueness of my face.
Lil’ Brain
Supposed ‘tutor’ tags me as a ‘dullard.’
I’m scorned by peers for this lil’ brain of mine
With bitter tears, a cold heart, I rush home
To seek solace in the dullard’s mother.
Lil’ brain never forgets that ugly day
But I now look back with joy, not anger.
I am joyful, for I am no lil’ brain.
Lil’ brain now represents a thousand brains
And lil’ brain’s mother has not toiled in vain,
With thanks to ‘tutors’ who are ‘creators.’
Displaced like a rock in the world of gems
Though a brother but not dearer to them
No form of luminous glossy likeness
In the hostile world of gems all alone
He looks up sadly to the stars brightness
What did he see?
He saw nothing but hope
Hope to see how his destiny unfolds
Hope to notice things about him unknown
Now he knows he’s not a gem but much more
In him lies wealth, for he is flush with ore.
Rushing waves of affection crashing now
Those caramel brown eyes twinkling with light
Wondering how to make this last somehow
As our distance shrinks, everywhere is bright
Captivated, we make a silent vow
The waves engulf and push me beyond pain
Those twinkling brown eyes now vacant and dim
Can't we just float back to our shore again?
I'm willing to try; I'm willing to swim
Just say the word, please, or I'll go insane.
Foraging through life's day cultivation
of living, crafted on stormy saucers
of anxious brunches and worry luncheons.
Whereof the cook's bait posed only for drabs
and dregs of days forged on grieving anvils.
Howbeit sprung from this cultivation,
These wee spreads of grace in grateful saucers,
feeding reminisces savoury nuncheons.
Whereof, hope brightens those dull daily drabs:
glad grief pastures of living life instils.
Creditors bang upon the bamboo doors
Seeking treasures within rotund anthills.
I have but blocked arteries to declare,
And the golden nuggets of fatal plaques—
My soul and life are a dime a dozen.
Every day I inhale the crisp spring air
And dig my loafers in rich loamy soil.
I trace the wingtips of broken pledges,
Yet I take lengthy baths in wishing wells.
Lines of prayer raise bulrushes in vales.
