Suicidal Thoughts

In grave silence, unfathomable darkness

Nature’s listening to her racing heartbeat

Jagged rocks, hungry earth, demonic presence

Pregnant belly, lost husband, DEAD BEAT?

Suddenly the winds begin to whisper

Bats flapping wings, circling about in mockery

Her priceless soul, the grave be the highest bidder

Betrayal, she weeps, if you call this love its worse than robbery

Was she to blame, when all she did was to love

When she gave all she had until a piece of her heart she had none?

She gave the whole of herself to him the very day he poked her orifice

And now a corollary to that love is a sacrifice

She’s already prepared the noose

The embrace of death might soothe

#Gone too Soon#

Am I really Doing Better?

It may sound rather stupid asking yourself such a question but as those who lived in this godforsaken planet said- don’t judge a man until you have walked for a whole month in his moccasins, please do not rush with your how-the-hell-does-it-concern-me attitude.

I am but a humble young man who is trying to make a honest living. I have people who I should be dependent on or atleast they think I should be dependent on them but I chose to toil, sink my fingers into the swampy world of writing to make something of my own. To be honest If nothing is going to change about my current working situation then I am sure I will never be rich or to be optimistic I guess I shall stop writing and seek formal employment. lot said already, my job situation is not the problem am facing now or atleast I have got used to it. My biggest problem is the belief that people have that I am living well, the moment a person hears that I am a writer and I earn online his whole perception of me changes. In his mind I become more than a friend, something sort of a donor, an ATM that they can rush to whenever they need cash! its quite absurd.

I have friends who do not believe I can lack money , they think I am a miser; I just save but I don’t spend. they think I live in the slums just because I like to portray myself as a hustler but the truth is I am just that – a broke fellow who lives from hands to mouth with hopes that soon things may go better and I will be able to pick my shattered dreams off the paths tread by losers.

I am not trying to say that no friend should call on me for help, I just want you to know that I am not doing any better, I am just like you! so when I tell you I don’t have enough to spare please believe me!

THE WORLD AIN’T FAIR-FIGHT FOR YOUR SHARE

When born they called me George
But that ain’t the reason i am known
Growing up they called me Agak
living up to date is quite a luck

She looked at me in the eyes
Her palms as cold as ice
And as if she saw the end of time
she said to me: son
The world ain’t fair
You’ve got to fight for your fair share

The meaning was hard to unravel
Not knowing how close she had to travel
Before she ate the gravel
she said to me: son
The world aint fair
You’ve got to fight for your fair share

Losing every tear
Confirming all my fear
For a destination not so near
Son
The world ain’t fair
You’ve got to fight for your fair share

I remember being in streets
The thought of that makes me sick
With wounds too deep to heal
The touch of death i still feel
Son
The world ain’t fair
You’ve got to fight for your fair share

And now to all my friends
Who hustle for their daily bread
The like of Ken and Ben
The world ain’t fair
You’ve got to fight for your fair share

We’ve got to part it’s quite a shame
But who am i to take the blame
when all of you were part of the game
lets meet there when you rise to fame
For The world ain’t fair
You’ve got to fight for your fair share

George Agak