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Lucas Ongawo Poem
“I’m Tim and I’m an addict, and I last drunk a week ago.”
The circle replied ‘hi Tim’, all their eyes fixed to my shuddering body
All unaware of the eccentric movement of my quivering lips, all not wanting to be.
The chair was shaking and the room was hot, I was waiting for that time when;
I’ll be out of this circle of people of my own vice, and I’ll see my doctor.
I’m waiting for that moment ill bid her good bye and program another session.
And then I’ll go for a run across the bridge down the river,
I’ll sit by the river side and mine my gin bottle take a sip and pray;
Pray hard that the booze runs out; pray hard that id grow allergic to it,
Pray more for the sip to be the last. Just like I’ve always done a year down the road.
I reviled what I had become she hated how fast I had changed;
She detested everything that I was being to the little one.
From a span she would sniff my, breathe and shield our little one from my hug.
Frustration would lead me to the basement where I would drink until I pass out.
Another gone by and in another circle I sit;
Their eyes affixed on me with attentive intent of welcoming my testimony
‘Hi, I’m Tim; I’m an addict and I drunk last a week ago.’
The circle answered ‘Hi Tim’...
‘I’m trying to quit’ I added.
Copyright © Lucas Ongawo | Year Posted 2013
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Lucas Ongawo Poem
We have moved to higher Grounds.
The ridge enclave in mist and cold
Sight is poor as in jackets we fold
Peering below at the stagnant pools
-Covering to brim our hoeing tools.
Ink that was too thick is diluted
Scribbling leaves with water polluted
We’ve moved to scribble on the higher rocks
We’ve move away from the flooding docks
The streets are full of my works I never sold
Stories I thought will never be told
Only, I had already told them and someone else was bold
No- bolder than I ever were my dreams to uphold.
And now these earthquakes has also robbed me
Stolen the duet written by Maya and me
It has rolled and warped it in earths bare dust
Maya thinks I betrayed her most treasured trust.
And so when we couldn’t stand the waters flowing
When into our warm beds the stream came rushing
We took our feet and mind and our family of poets
And moved to higher grounds, we live again as cave poets.
We scribble in the darkest night
With splinters red enough to glow morsel light
We remember the glow of a car parking light
And we press the ochre harder, lips held tight.
We write on the rough walls of our refuge cave
Writing poetry in coded images of flower and dove
We write our fury in dark wooden coal,
-And happiness in a picture of an owl school.
Our hearts have enjoined from its broken bounds
But we still remember with the scariest, loudest heart pounds
And still we write up-up the filling rocks. Filled with words
-Words about the higher grounds and the flooded grounds.
The rocks floods with sentiments of frustration
-of the sired generation now lost in the canyon
-age has caught up to us and the cave is dripping with poetry
-so we pick a box of special pen and one or two poultry
-and we move to higher grounds.
Where the rocks are clean and caves are darker and empty
Copyright © Lucas Ongawo | Year Posted 2015
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Lucas Ongawo Poem
You chose me off the the thorny pine lake
And gently place me on a rocking rack,
I could breathe the cleanest air above the pile of pineapples
You took me off the rack showed me an easy way to go
Made me like the water made me flow,
And i was the sweetest fruit for the thirsty and of bitter taste
You made my life a happy song
And took the spikes off my chest
You made me fly and diffuse my wisdom and then every one followed
They took me by their mouth and made for themselves freedom
Freed themselves from stunting,
Muscled up and helped others cross the street
They grew up to raise kids by pineapple juice and moral feet
Then i knew i was nutritious
I had made the society conscious
Because you made me first into that pineapple,
And my juice i serve to Gods people.
(in many ways those moral teachings
of the bible makes us as human as we should be,
they are all a different fruit to us)- Lucas-
Copyright © Lucas Ongawo | Year Posted 2012
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Lucas Ongawo Poem
hatred and love
She took me in, inside her heart, out of the raging storm of solitude
Dragged me. Pierced my tissues with the horn of a unicorn….
I levitated at daybreak and floated to the middle of the night
I felt the wind and the fire and the ice and the weird heart throb…
Sweet when she made me laugh and bitter when she was hurt
It literally tasted that way in my tongue- the touch of a perfect love…
She hates me....
Insults me
She makes me
Hate myself so..
And now I am a show for the town to watch, lone walker, paces undefined
And mostly taken down by my untied laces; the ground- so hard- embraces me…
That hydrogen that carried me through my gleaming days and lit my nights
Has ran out, syphoned from me by the love of another man, or money?, no difference.
That’s what, I didn’t have
Or provide, long before our love had hit its core, she lied...
That’s what I hate
Like I hate her
That’s what I hate
Like I do myself now.
And i never thought id hate that much
I guess i never knew love that much...
Copyright © Lucas Ongawo | Year Posted 2013
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Lucas Ongawo Poem
The dark truth;
There is nothing good in falling, nothing good in fainting
Just getting hurt, and blacking out.
Blacking out is missing in action and bleeding is bleeding.
There is nothing interesting in dreaming, nothing helpful in admiring
Just the misconception about sound sleep and the annoying urge
Craving is not attaining; variance in quality discerns means of acquisition.
There is no good in saying sorry, pay back enrages less.
Humanity seeks vengeance. Forgiveness is getting even
Humanity seeks vengeance, forgiving tastes bitter.
Bitter is bitter, sadness is sadness, the feeling is what it is.
There is no cure for being blue; there is no tonic for melancholy.
To heal is accepting to live with the sad memories. Like there is an option.
There is never going back, there is never going beyond your existence.
Ghosts are real and hallucination is not insanity. Time travel is fiction.
Madness is living in the two worlds; of apparitions and scientists. Science is
real.
There is nothing like water. Substitutes are either too saccharine or too nasty
Water is like living within your means, metaphorical lemons are the suffering
selfless
The sweet are the most vulnerable, the lost in their lost courses.
Pursuit has an end and not certainly at an arrest, fatigue saves the guilty.
Failure doesn’t show the image of success. Success is just success.
Failing again and again is a fair warning. Success will always be illusive.
Shrinks are not for inspiration, money is their inspiration
The work of the poor is not to make examples out off as humility.
Anger is the best example of self-control. Fighting is the worst part of it.
Being poor as being rich comes in different forms,
Being rich can be luck but not certainly hard work, stealing takes you there.
Working for something gives you exactly that thing, extra is comforting.
Bliss; bliss, bliss, ignorance is not bliss. Perhaps death
The silence, the silence and the silent residence…
Then death is not the only scary thing. Solitude is too.
Poetry; this is one of them, buried in voices of scaring truth.
Poetry is not words either, poetry is life and life is everything, poetry is
anything.
Something sad, something glad, and anything you may add. Try the bad.
Copyright © Lucas Ongawo | Year Posted 2014
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Lucas Ongawo Poem
The Bump
I kiss a lady for the first time in the mouth- which I do now so a few
And I wonder with my wits not a fool could do what I do.
Forgotten how it felt to be cold and sleepy and mostly lonely
I then embrace what I saw disgusting and blunt; what other people would do.
I take around of scorch and make rounds for others to soak in booze
And in a circle I throw words to squash their manhood- that’s what I do.
And I would do for the man to his wife what a man could not do
And couldn’t care less what the fury inside ‘em would do
Spare life; it fades away in the shimmer of others success
Staring in disarray is the best I could do
Standing- I can’t remember myself on my own spoilt feet.
I just appreciate the few that stayed by me- I do.
-+
Copyright © Lucas Ongawo | Year Posted 2013
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Lucas Ongawo Poem
-poisoned-
Taking,
Quick rapid
Unmonitored
Pants..and a
Heave….
Then
A smile and
A raise of clear glass
Of a fairly cold
Quenching water…
The throat
Cools,
Another
Heave….
With a weird roll of the tongue
The taste
Slicing, cutting, paralyzing the thirsty mouth,
The heart,
Beats faster,
And beats faster
And faster than before…
The body
quivers
And trembles
And violently rolls
-submission-
The body
Falls
The glass
Crushes…
Silence…
Copyright © Lucas Ongawo | Year Posted 2013
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Lucas Ongawo Poem
Frail stature, strong will.
Endurance of mind wilts doubt.
both frail- absent will.
Copyright © Lucas Ongawo | Year Posted 2013
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Lucas Ongawo Poem
-poetic smile-
within bliss or frown
crescent or blue; pen it down
smile, light up the dawn.
Copyright © Lucas Ongawo | Year Posted 2012
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Lucas Ongawo Poem
LOVE I
Living for no reason or sometimes many
Ones discovered takes strength and all, while
Vying to stay scorched by your attention,
Eternity comes either way, satisfied or not
LOVE II
Listening and nodding and counting
On and on as if there will be no end for your
Very own good; is that what it is?
Eve knew that did she?
LOVE III
Lying and pretending to protect
Once soul of soap that would wash away at the
Very moment it's touched by water? and
Ending up to nothing?
LOVE IV
Luck of listening to the loudest pound
On your naive chest, flooded to brim with
Various colors of emotion you've never -
Ever felt before-you think? I DON'T KNOW.
Copyright © Lucas Ongawo | Year Posted 2012
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