Category Archives: #poetry

Childhood Indulgence

The place we used to hide in is no longer a secret, they have discovered it and known the secrets it kept. Our beautiful moments flew when adulterous wives brought their men in; the charcoal notes stood the test of time—to tell tales of our childhood indulgence.

Love Pencil Art Wallpaper Pencil Art Hd Wallpaper

Deprived

I’m not ready, she said
You have to be, he replied
And that was final
She, left neck- deep into the mess
Chained to the ways of the land
The daughter of the lake
A man she has to take
Father’s choice
20 yrs was the age difference
She complained she had another
But gods had decided
And their will she had to obey
She had been fed enough
It was time she got disposed
An item of trade she was
And a herd of cattle was the price
Who cares:
If he loves her or not?
If her heart melts for another?
If he’ll treat her well or not?
If he had a functional engine or not?
She had to be married
To the man who’d lost sight
But still had insatiable appetite for tender flesh
The three-legged man whose backbone needed straightening
He smiles, he whispers seduction but all she thinks;
“Old man you need a mouthwash”
Who cares?
She’ll get used
A herd of cattle wasn’t a small price to pay

Atheist’s Argument

Out on a Tuesday night
Watching people worship the God of the Israelites, the God who punished Israelites for 40 yrs and bribed them with manna and quails to forget.
The same God who sent the Satan in the image of Snake to give the woman a rotten apple— the apple that ejected human race from luxuries of Eden.
The same God who destroyed those in Sodom and Gomorrah because they chose a YOLO lifestyle and melted Lot’s wife simply because she couldn’t control her reflexes
The same one who forced Jonah to go to Nineveh without even considering his approval and then planted a big fish to eat him half-half and leave vital parts heart, elbow, lungs and testicles …just imagine being alive in the fish’s intestines for days…ouch!
The same one who brought havoc on Job for no good reason—yet Job served him with all he had…I’m telling you about the same God who murdered the pharaohs, slaughtering innocent children, and women
I tell you, they had forgiven him…ooh what a good thing to be the lord—you’re the grand puppeteer.

pages in history

History is present
Troubling us with repeats of yesterday’s mayhem
Blood didn’t dry
And ground wasn’t barren
So seeds of hate sprouted
Watered by sycophancy and greed
What’s right isn’t profitable
What’s profitable isn’t right
Like freedom fighters who lost all while freeing the nation
We have been looted by those we paid to protect our wealth
And they’ve killed us for defending whats ours
Big cars they drive
Fuelled by our thin wallets
And soon they’ll back to shed more blood
For the gods they worship
The nation isn’t ours
We dont belong
We’re pawns on a chessboard
No life of our own
But just items of trade
And bargaining chip for political supremacy
So slavery isn’t dead
Just a page in history
Embeded on the present

But….

but
WTF you BUTT!

One of the transitions that break hearts,
Kills dreams and belittles everything
But emboldens incompleteness…

It was a delicious meal, BUT too much fat
She’s beautiful, BUT she’s got a small ass
He is very bright, BUT so hostile
He’s very talented, BUT damn broke
He earns a lot, BUT he’s mean
He loves a lot, BUT he loves the wrong people
……….Et cetera, et cetera………..
The last time my complement transited with a BUT…
I felt its end sour in my mouth before it was spoken
It’s worse when it comes from someone more broken
More desolate,
More beaten
Until you ask yourself who really needs a complement
So I ask can’t a sentence ever be complete without BUT?
Can’t we appreciate the good things
And make them bold enough
For others to see?

Cheater’s Flesh for Vultures

Love Pencil Art Wallpaper Pencil Art Hd Wallpaper
I love you so much. So much that if this love died today, I would ask for your pair of hands.
We’d carry it to the crematorium and set it on fire. Dead love has no place in our lives. Our bones will be oozing with pus from slain promises and bruised trust.

With honesty; every ounce left of it, I will look in your eyes and confess that my heart loved you most. But, it is the ‘omnivorousness’ of the human heart that drifted my eyes from the single bird I had caged to the beautifully colored ones in the depths of the forest.

I would tell you of the nights I left a piece of my heart roasting in their barbecues and came home with painful scabs dried by a hot iron. I would also tell you of the hollowness this filled me with. The remorse I felt for having betrayed your trust.

I would tell you the truth. When I shed tears as you stitched my heart, it wasn’t because the anesthetics didn’t work; it’s because the gentleness with which you touched my wounds hurt me most. It was like poking the dying embers of my guilt and shame, making the fire too big for all the four chambers of my heart, still clogged with fragments of lies. My dear, you didn’t see tears, you saw steam of my evaporating inequities.

In the end, you’ll know I knew you tried to make me better. But hormones outweighed morals in my priority meter. He whose hormones do a shot for– slowly kills his own brain.

As the fire would burn, smoke will rise to the sky, sending a message to the creator that man had set apart what he’d put together. At this point, I will send a prayer for lightening to strike me, and God will not answer like he never does when I ask him for a contented heart. We’ll blame his grace.

I will then ask you, “Mercy, please stab me, kill me and spray my carcass with the ash of our love from the crematorium oven”.

Please don’t bury me. Feed me to birds of prey, Let my life be worth something. A cheater’s flesh is a hearty meal to starving vultures.

Please feed be to the birds of prey, give my death a purpose.

 

 

Scathed

I detoured,
I changed paths
but still I ended up
at the very destination
I was evading

The more you repel
the greater the attraction
The more you indulge
The deeper the void
These days, my soul
swoons in the gloom
as belief slithers away
I’m losing vital parts of me
And growing parts I hate to have
My eyes are heavily smudged
with despondency
Nights overstay
Days are painful hues of red
Something is scathed inside
Could be hope
could be faith
could be discipline
As it bleeds
It rots and burns my belly
Till hell is poked inside me
flickers rise, sparks violence
then razor edges stained
They’ll rust
as my cuts heal
Maybe tomorrow
I’ll not need to cut