Browsing Tag

muse

Poetry

ORACLE (a sketchy February)

Oracle
I am not your pain
I am not your silence
break forth from where there’s stain
take off all of these hurting absence.
Clasp your hands, chant it from your mind
I, who knows will of course fix your kind.

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Poetry

SPACE (a sketchy February)

There’s a meeting ongoing with time,
It has an ounce of pain itching
in attendance along with the heart.
Sometimes it gulps misplaced priorities
like promises of metal painted gold.
Time claims to heal but for now it hurts.

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Poetry

SLOW (a sketchy February)

Nobody told me about all these
the stretching of the sun
the peeling off the night,
the steadiness of a silent morning,
the cold whimpers of a sad moon
the healing of a broken heart
all of these are in the bus of slow.

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Poetry

PROFILE (a sketchy February)

Tell me again, what have you said about me?
Did you say I was the son of the sun?
I can hurt like your words,
I can even cry louder than your attention.
Today I met some of you
in a bottle, in a plate, in a mixture of juice and gin.
I can’t tell you that really defines me,
for all I did was love you out of love,
I cared like a Wednesday,
I endured you naively,
with truths that had no tribal marks.
This is who I am,
a black boy who learnt the truth only later,
who can fly
with his wings tied to his chest.
It is who I am.

Poetry

ROBOT (a sketchy February)

Please, please and please, please
I beg you, let yourself fly,
you are not meant to sit on this ground
while your blood is made of air and wind.
Open your heart and let these wings take you away.
You are not cursed to bend a knee for this.

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Poetry

GIFT (a sketchy February)

What do you think I wrapped for you,
a pot of gold made with silver covering?
Do you think I bought the heavens
and put it in a box of butterflies?
I am not petty enough to bucket your tears
I am not humble enough to read your love letters.

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Poetry

FAT (a sketchy February)

So you think the reason I left you
was because you grew transparent like an ocean.
No! I am not worth that kind of pain,
My mind knows hurt but not how to train
against the running hills when they come to you,
even while we are valley and hills
mountains living beside a stream.

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