Who,s Night ?
It is, night ! dark as pitch black;
I am, swimming in night sweat;
towards an unreachable morning shore.
Whispering pillows bring hours of fear;
and a cage of scrabbling arms reaching,
grip my runaway thumping heart beats;
fleeing me, left prone alone shaking: Yet still
my flickering shut eyes see through strangely,
the bizarreness of its veiled cloak; it hides all.
Night is elusive, in its wraps, its bitter taste;
and is always conquered by morning light:
If the dawn does not appear, i am lost,
realising the heavy lid is screwed down.
Excuse me while I Puke
I hear screams of virgins watching
their innocence being tortured.
I see flowers hiding in the shadows
covering their eyes with shame.
I smell the putrid odors,
fuming from the stench
of bush meat eating scavengers.
Forcing intimacy on cherubs and angels.
I see abused women and children,
giving up and dying because
no one is looking for them.
I saw the First Lady of indifference
at the mall caressing a Gucci collar
for her little poodle dog.
I heard that birds still sing
and flowers still bud.
Right now I cannot enjoy
their contrite delight.
My eyes are filled with blood.
Is there anymore-
Bizarreness to be Ignored
AS I puke.
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