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A Toast To Anything

Clinking glasses of red wine in hands on rustic wooden planks ba

Let us toast to animal pleasures, to escapism, to rain on the roof and instant coffee, to the comfort of unemployment and humility of empty sugar dishes, to absinthe and innocence-eyed cougars, to landlord notices, to music, to cold nights and warm bodies, to contraceptives and missed periods… and to the good life, whatever it is and wherever finds you, to sighs of missed calls, to serenity of nature and positive vibrations it brings with it…

Let’s toast to pretty faces and big asses,to supple lips and seductive eyes, to smitten pastors and falling bibles…to rumbling stomachs and naked tissue rolls, to missing left socks and stripped bible pages, to blocked drainages and grey water, to missing family members, to absences found in presence of nagging wives, to weed and chimney noses, to thirst for righteousness and magnetism of pornography, to failed attempts and soiled hopes, to bodies torn after deities’ duel, to life in fullness; what you consider it to be!
Thank You, God for simplifying life
Thank you God for a chance to right my wrongs
Thank you God for Nesta or Isabella
Youtube, Thank you for another euphoric sound escape!

One Question

It’s a long way we’ve come
It’s a long way to go
But I see them barricading our path
As bonfires light
Fuelled by jealousy and ill will
They call us savages
Pulling chains to bind our limbs
So in fire we don’t even twitch
But dear,
Will you let them break us apart?
Or will you let them be?

They say we’re impossible
Like they know bits of us
We’ve never known
Like they’ve felt the heavens of your body
And marvelled at the depth of your thoughts
Like their hands have felt the glory in your breasts
Like their mouths still hoard the lava of your orgasm
They are becoming gods
Trying to fix our brokenness with
Should and should-nots
Just tell me this;
Will you let them break us apart?
Or will you let them be?

Do they know how far we’ve come?
When the ground was our bed
And rock stone our pillow (S.M)
When sunrise brought with it
Empty pots and cold fireplace
When doors banged on our faces
And friends became few
When providence never sojourned
And we lay destitute and desolate
Remind them, in these days
We found reasons to smile
I found home in your embrace
And warmth in your mons
And I gave you a promise
But, they won’t tire,
Dem loading their guns
Shooting our dreams
While time flees
So dreams will be dreams
They want to entice you
To pressure me
For them to oppress us
So tell me,
Will you let them break us apart?
Or will you let them be?

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?

Finally….

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I swear she overdosed me with patience
The waiting was long and torturing
With hormones rising
Beyond control
Dominating my thoughts
My actions
And leaving me swathed
In lustful rage
The nights were long
Bedsheets were thick
With sexual annotations
Days were lonely and fruitless
No poems,
No gigs
Just wishes and yearnings
For a passionate ‘sexcapade’

Finally, she showed up
In short skirts and broad smiles
Her breath a blend of innocence
And eagerness to indulge
As she moved closer,
I stood my ground
Her hands reached out for my face
As kisses and whispers became deafening

The pants ripped off
Skin to skin musings
As mouth sought mouth
Wetness ensued
And thighs parted
Revealing cleanly shaven soft-centre
She gasped in pleasure
As she took it in inches
Flinching time to time
Groaning
Scratching
As feet knotted on feet
Her splash came up
Messing my pubic hair
And she pulled my hair
Scratched my back
Till it bled
I felt something build up
Something huge, voluminous
I heard myself moan
And Alas!
Her face half contorted as mine,
She received the lava in convulsive fits
As I wiped the lava off her mons
I knew Nirvana dwells in orgasms

I’ll Let Go

One day I’ll master enough strength
To spell your absence
And live with the reality
in print

I’ll mask the heart you’ve hurt
This stupid heart that yearns
And aches for the gentleness of your words

Words that would weave an insult into berries
And serve them as thanks
For the travails I put you through

The leveler

I want to write
But the strange thing about words is
They slip through the mesh of your mind
flooding your judgment
With imperfections
Poor diction here,
You should have used imagery there,
This poem is too basic!
You killed your success
Before it could escape the jaws of perfection
For fear of rejection
You detoured from your destination
And sought opinions and corrections
Before fusion
Of words with purpose
now you’ve stagnated
Your own growth
But like a traveler in the midst of a desert
Craves a drop of water
We all crave a drop of inspiration
When pages lay blank
When poems remain letters
Without purpose nor destination
Then you remember we’ve all had these words
The perfect artist has them
The sorry poet has them
The same
Levelers
Of creation
And then the wind blew
We all loved the cool breeze
But someone made a windmill
And now he mills profits
And the sun came up
Shone on and on
The palace and the tenement
To the rich and the poor
Second chance for all
To solve the puzzles of yesterday
Don’t wait
To apportion blame
It’s a leveler
It shone
Brightened our paths
A fresh chance
To kick the dark spots
Off your path

PS: Also read: https://chevvy8.com/2017/02/25/something-happened/comment-page-1/

Battlefield

Darkness is all I see
A fight from within
A person torn in two
Demand of flesh
Vs
Religious allegiance
God
Vs
Satan
But,
Must I be the bait?
A conduit for deities
To fulfill their purposes
And manifest their divine power?
Why do I come back here?
Why do I break my promises?
Indulgence?
With hefty prices to pay
Self-loathe,
Floored confidence,
Loneliness,
What more shall I pay?
I wait for that day
When this war will be over
I’m tired of fighting a war
Where victor and villain
Is just but one person
I wait for that day,
When this war will be over
Am I no more than a battlefield?
Why do corpses rot in my belly?
Why is my face charred?
With burnt stumps of guilt
will this war ever be over?

Cornmeal porridge

I love poetry. This might be because it is the only form of art that allows free expression. No rules, just heart-pouring. Being a poet, I often find myself thinking about things people never even notice. Yesterday, as I walked to church, I saw this beggar, sitting by the side of the road, whistling people to come close and drop something in his cup.

None came, all of them walked at a safe distance as if they feared he might pounce on their wallets. However, some came closer to the beggar and just as his hopes rose, they passed without looking his way. And I learn’t that those who walked at a safer distance were better that the latter who deposited dusts from there steps into the beggar’s cup.

I stood glued. As he kept calling, I imagined him shaking dust off the cup in while murmuring to himself “if dust was cornmeal floor, i’d have a cornmeal porridge”. And I moved past in steady strides, repeating the rituals of prior passers-by, church was waiting.