The night shall carry alot of stories
like how we folded our thoughts
and covered it with barren deeds.
It shall covet the moon with smiles of stars
it will be like the veil holding virgins
bounding their winter with frost of pain.
If sleep thus comes
We will both have arrived at the same time.
The first time I begged your indulgence to help fix my broken piece you did it with ease, I felt at ease to tell you about the cactus holes, the mended bridges. I remember the dusty rooms we swept together and arranged the books on the shelves.
Let us tell these tales
by the moonlight borrowed from a yesterday’s sky
under the fires that sparked those first moments,
I sat pale because of the sickening attractions.
Let our tales tell
of the first moments our words kissed
from years written from a heart to another
under the golden sun of my lollipop you accepted.
I sing into a golden jar.
Songs of heroes long lost,
This sounds will be heard from afar.
Rippling on today’s cost,
When I first met me I thought I was Zulu from South Africa
Cause I naturally had love for the folks in the Town called Cape
And Cyril’s cousin, Chris and I were cool cats
1931 spoke lots about our struggles
When our idol, The Great Britain, became our rival
They are called the godly, richly put
on this ground where holy is lowly
I did not create
I am only death and life.
Just bow, ask nothing.
No clouds exist for you or your type
even prayers mean nothing here.
You are bunch of holy heads
boasting of pure nonsense.
Just look at yourselves
Please break free
From all fantasies,
That render my nights sleepless,
And my days wasted on lies
From all thoughts that keeps
My gaze fixed at your image,
And stare stuck to your smiles
Poetry is when, after seeing a woman pass, instead of just thinking quietly to yourself, ‘Wahala!’ you go home, sit down, take a piece of paper and write: “Without a doubt, you can stop a star in its celestial track. You! Twist it round for chance to see that glorious back. Shall I describe it? Swing and wobble, shake and tremble; that thing behind you will put me in trouble.”
Unhand me dear maiden of these edges,
Unhand me dear maiden of these edges.
I do not seek to be put in your hole,
I do not seek to be put in your hole.
Polygons of freedom, squares of the dead,
lend me your ears, so my words don’t go unheard.
Oh dear mister the one who heals the broken,
I hear of your faith in rides I could enjoy.
Not bad for the one who came through words spoken.
Laughter, Pain, Joy, Sadness I hear you employ
To help fix the dejected and the dying.
I’d love to sit in your counsel with my joy.