It goes on they say,
but for some, it says,
If not forever, a little span astray,
Life, after all, is not a thing to play.
But the wind playing with the hair,
Slipping from under the feet,
Lifting desires to a grand height,
Giving the soul, the strength to dare,
When goes away, leaves a vacancy.
I feel breathless,
choking against my burning throat.
My parched lips mutter a silent prayer;
As the world around me falls apart.
Drenched in perspiration,
My body feels numb.
Behold the fascination,
O’ curious wanderer!
For you are about to enter
the boundaries of
a magical land….
The first rays of the breaking dawn
embrace my coarse feet;
As I wonder
How many days it’s been,
Since my soul ceased to exist.
It was a long time ago
when I set sail;
She gingerly touched the lush grass,
The dew on them making her fingertips misty,
She breathed in the invigorating air,
The essence of wet mud, the newly grown leaves on the tree,
She felt content.
How broken is the heart that wails the loss of a beloved
The unending saga of devotion
is now a fragmentary account
The tranquilizing memories
are now painful reminders
The lost sense of touch
is a testimony to the reality
How broken is the heart that wails the loss of a beloved
Those perky moments
are the ones now being longed for
Those momentous conversations
are the ones that are in vain
The only gratifying feelings
are now disposed towards neglect
How broken is the heart that wails the loss of a beloved
“Hey, black boy,” they shouted out,
Millions of eyes on me,
Some with rage,
And some with judgement.
This was because I was black.
They gave us the place to live, mom said.
But this space makes me choke,
And for days striving for breath.
They say I’m ugly,
But I didn’t choose to be this way.
One of god’s creation, I say.
My skin is not me,
And doesn’t decide what’s in me.
Trying to survive for a long time back,
Always being harassed and,
Always feared attack.
Passing through cops yelling and
Huge roads being blocked,
For many more similar days to come
I’ll never stop walking for freedom
Sisyphus has finally neared the top. This is the end of one lifetime.
He has lost his ability to poetry about the struggle. Camus lied. The journey only fills a man’s heart but once.
Whatever he has ever desired is forever lost along the length of his nape. The mountain never was the longest distance.
He has the inability to pray.
Do not kill a poet’s heart
Do not put an end to her start
With gleaming eyes, a poet writes
With her words, the world she lights
You come home from work,
I rush to greet you.
You don’t look at me at all,
I can tell this for sure .
A process of gradually changing over time,
A process our genes passed; old yet shine,
Yes we evolved, biologically and in more logical terms,
Unfolded many mysteries, felt paths taking turns.
You ever think about how technically nothing is ever that much of a big deal? That being a decent human isn’t a big deal to someone. That being sexually active isn’t that big a deal to someone. That maybe for someone being part of the queer spectrum isn’t a cause of tension. Or that maybe feeling a distinct lack of sexual attraction isn’t a big deal to someone.
A single pound spent on butter-cake melted my heart,
But you breached my happiness, you stole my credit card.
Expecting me not to buy that silk dress, my curves would flaunt more.
My bodyweight didn’t bother me but finding dieticians was your concern.
Oh What a Day!
You know what? It was raining today.
Rain, Rain, I thought of seeing you,
Were you the reason behind her precious smiles?
Or were you the aid that helped her hide the tears that she had been carrying for miles?
