The Poet Cries

I see pairs
I stop and stare
Gauge the odds and evens
The whole point of it, and reasons
And with logic establish rhetorics
With sound mind, engage
Try to look past the hands held
The lipstick stains left, the kisses
Hugs, the deposits plus big investments
Nerves, the fulfillment of better halves
My complicated status a shadow
Of the light that shines off
The simplicity of lovelihood
And why the poet can’t write his way into a heart
Why the poet builds virtual situations, of dreams he’s never had
Of doubts that he ever will
Why with all this skill
The poet still starves
He watches, but is too scared to love
If only he could ask, the poet could have
But the tasks at hand
The urge to understand
The secret behind beauty and brains
Truth for the poet to pen,
The reality, the sadness, the loneliness and the pain
But then, creativity flows from the same
The river so deep the poet could drown
Forever live on and never die
And for this reason
The Poet cries



I have read volumes
I have analysed even more
I have observed
I have been keen and I have listened
I have tried new possibilities, lost myself in the process
I have questioned continuity, I have tasted bile, sugar
Chewed pepper and swallowed papers
All for the pursuit of knowledge and total exuberance
I have reached limits, I have seen ends
I have made beginnings
But for every new experience
For every tidbit of new information I have come across
There is the realization that I haven’t learned, seen, heard or possessed any knowledge or capability at all.
With every new information, I realize I don’t know
I don’t know
I haven’t ever known

Behind The Sins


She saw in his eyes something
Something beguiling
Something her naive mind couldn’t behold
Something about how dark they seemed
Something about how cold his gaze felt
How chilly his moods
How within the calm, there came the thrill that moved her to embrace her own emptiness
She knew something lay in the void of his heart
Something wild, something buried
Her treasure to unearth
And she knew
What had to be done.

He had had his moments
For a few seasons ahead of her, he had traversed
Like every other teenager those days,
Had tried and tested, then tested again
Perched on a few trees and probably nested
Knew a thing or two, about hearts and how to woo
A few years younger, wouldn’t be too bad
Plus the way she looked at him
Like he was, some precious stone
Like there was a rainbow in the ferocious storm
In his eyes, and a pot of gold
For her to find.
He yearned control,
And knew what had to be done

Having been there, he showed her
On the pathways to passion became her chauffeur
Blew her mind, with emotions she hadn’t known
Took her depths and had her drown
Imprinted himself onto everything she felt
And kindled the flames and flares
He showed her the ropes and she got so entangled
That she couldn’t move, unless he said
That she couldn’t breathe, when he was in range
Showed her, all the things
Except the dirt, behind the sins

He and she
Somehow became they
The wildest dreams, you could portray
The best in her,
The best in him, the much she saw
How he filled her once empty heart
How the light in him she did ignite
How she had no doubts, that it would last, to the last of days

One can start a fire during winter
And enjoy the warmth
Bask in the glow and for a minute forget the cold
But, winter’s winter
And as the ice keeps falling
The fire needs wood, constant logging

She wanted him
She wanted him to keep indulging her
She wanted him to want her again
She wanted things as crazy as they used to be
Before she had known,
She wanted assurance to what she had known all along
She knew his words ran short, but still wanted to hear him say it over and over
For she was a girl
And his silence wasn’t helping either
Why wasn’t he about her
Somehow they had become her
She was all of a sudden in a relationship with their past
Like all those years had bore no meaning
All those good moments weren’t good enough fighting for
Like she wasn’t worth dreaming of
Like her shoulders weren’t good enough leaning on

She has since become a free spirit
And covers ground
Gets ground
Flies with the wind, lives on instinct
Telling herself nothing can hold her back
Tells me life is short,
Insists on capturing the moment
Behind the pretty face and the smile
Behind the philosophies and the lies
I know lies the explorer
Behind all she does, she seeks elsewhere what she once knew
Behind the sins lie the emptiness
Behind the sins sit some hope, that somehow those embers will be rekindled.



It is not easy
Creating metaphors from these dusty roads,
Riders only care about how far it goes
Pick a punchline from the gutters, and throw it all on these dirty dogs that’ll never know how poetry flows through empty thrones
To every home
To you
I was an open letter, yet still it was hard deciphering the postal codes, I was there dreaming designer at the local shops and open doors that had in built recliners
With line ups of mothers that hated my hair cut
To the clothes I wore and thus the war was on, some place to start
And they were grieving this long lost generation spitting cursing my choice of songs that sounded catchy
Like I was everything of all the things that were wrong with society, drilling and asking boring questions about my lifestyle and equations
Like the Devils plans were working
Claiming we never listened to teaching yet I was quiet while they was talking hoping lightning would strike me
And let it strike me if I’m wrong
I’m still here that means I’m not
Don’t look for me when am gone and when my song hits the airwaves don’t wave
Don’t flash my phone¬† Don’t say you know my mama, don’t ask her to give you my number
Don’t tell the Lord to add where its from, because you hardly helped me out
I’m talking crazy, mouth is peppered
Don’t call me to no fundraisers,
I’m the seed that fell amidst the thorns and stench of societal breach
Got squeezed so hard I couldn’t breathe
I’m barely survived, suicidal kid sought quicker ways to eternal peace
This can’t be it, it shall not be
If I cross the line, I will pass my peers the rope and appear strong with power and might as well add hope
I realize the fate of us against the evil laws, when we received our thrashing on the large school lawns
But we still are here
Have you seen?
The interest to the discomfort we invested?
Where’s the bright future to which our childhood was loaned?



I want to propose a toast
A toast
To the ladies who will never have drinks with us
To all the ladies who make us assume mother nature pretty
And our existence in equal measure petty
To those ladies we love
But act friendly, for the sake of our laws.

A toast
To the hundreds we follow
To all the selfies they take, that we screenshot and tap
Countless times but can’t tag
And fellow men, MCM’s we’ve tapped by mistake
Hoping to trade a thousand likes for a follow back
If that’s what it takes

Let’s toast to those ladies
Who emerge from behind huge gates
In cars
All we catch, before the window’s rolled up
The idea, it might be a pretty girl

Those delicate flowers
That left our schools back in nursery
Now cant even remember us,
Though we were once neighbors
But they advanced,
While we continually seem to move backwards

Those ladies
We see in town
Dressed to annihilate, checked to replicate brilliance
From the hair, all the way down
And once
Once in a lifetime, the spirits that guide the less fortunate
Offer us a chance and we pass so close
You catch the scents of their cologne
On your second hand clothes, and seconds move real slow

Three shots
On me, to the birthdays we’ve so brilliantly remembered
Parties in neighborhoods we’ve never heard of
To the invited, their margin against us, I know
Is our weights in gold

Girls we know we’ll never have
Hands we know we’ll never touch, so I suggest
We sit, drink and lie for we have stomached rejection
So much our stomachs ache and we might need a couple for the tummy
Like the good apostle said
And later tonight
When we pass out on the pavements, and they come from their flashy parties
Drive by our sorry segments
That’s all we can hope for,
I hope it’s all worth the trouble



You can put a few words together, that doesn’t make you a poet
You can claim you are forever, but this is the truth and you know it
If your life ends in the next line, there’s no heaven for your type
Maybe Shakespeare wouldn’t have stayed here if there was a next life
Think of the constant wars you are fighting, nibbling nails, bleeding, fidgeting, scratching at blank walls
Starching, saying its for the nervousness
Laziness and fear, steer off trouble then call it casual righteousness
Partial attention,
You fool them
Not me, I know the truth friend
When you said that you’d weighed and proved things
You lied,
Or you think dad would approve this?
If the church knew your thoughts, would they let you play with their kids?

If you told them those other strings you are pulling
Think they’d still be attached?
You’d be picking fights instead of phones
Thinking life is beautiful, we both know you compromise
And come from lies where happiness and comfort lies in the public eye
Where you publicise the good and then capsize the crude
Your conscience fried
You said you’d be different
You lied
You always did
Making daddy uncomfortable, making mama cry out of distaste
You are a disgrace
I say that with reference to the realness you preach
While Mr Society prays that God will bless his seed
You are one little piece that just wont fit
Don’t even get me started on the comments you make in church
And the questions you ask
Judging the musical innuendo
In fact, labelling yourself the think tank

I’m nothing like you
Things are moving too slow so I’m passing judgment
And crushing nonsense
Take my advice and study
Marry from a family, a family we know, a salvaged family
Get a job
Live in the farm and be content
Stars never come from here
You wont be anything
You are worthless, Mr Insignificant, I don’t know about the poet part
Just point facts
You are nobody
You are purposeless
You are just another dreamer
They always spoil it for everyone
I wish I wasn’t part of you


Sometimes I understand, Sometimes am not so sure
Sometimes your scent invokes
Sometimes I pick manure
Sometimes I like your line of thought
Sometimes I manoeuvre
Sometimes you are so fly
Sometimes you only hover
Sometimes you’re a hair clipper
Sometimes secateurs
But really? Burdizzo
You should never do that
Sometimes I love you
Sometimes I hate that some other time
Sometimes I find you attractive
Sometimes you are just a horseshoe
Sometimes frog choirs move me
Sometimes a dumb joke just does it
Sometimes your voice is soothing
Other times don’t dare tape it
That time, this poem seemed funny
Now I just hate it.