Smiler they called her
A proper social engager
A befriender - listener
Then something changed
Her sparkle went
Slowly - over time
Like someone turned out the light
Fading - retreating back
Always apologetic
Even if not at fault
Excuses
No longer mixing
Then the frown
Or deep sadness
Written across her lips and eyes
Always too busy
With something else
Silent and timid
In the presence of certain people
Particilarly one
Finding conversation difficult
Trust shot
Personality fading away
Unrecognised
No longer knowing self
Uncertain how to just - be anymore
The depth of night set in
Darkness
Black well
Suffocating
Not recognising
Yet so in need of someone
An open door
A friendly ear
A hand reaching out
Discretion
Signposts
Building blocks to breaking out
Of the wilderness
Means of dealing
Chance of escapism
Rescuing the soul from control
And cohersion
Finding a way back
To daylight
Refinding the spirit
That once helped her smile
Each time I had sipped mirage
thinking it was water
and I made my mind understand
that it had quenched my thirst.
Now neither mirage nor water
can make me feel thirsty again.
I am cohabiting with my thirst
in a perfect equilibrium:
neither does my thirst lure me,
nor do I try to evoke my thirst.
We have compromised with each other
for the sake of peace.
Because it's better to be thirsty
than to be falsely hopeful.
Living life indulging in the joys of just whatever.
Living life idly inhaling burnt sacred plant matter.
Living life cohabiting in no more than a sort of shelter.
In the dark she composes,
Bleek from the mind's whispers.
An image in comprehension
Cohabiting with the soul's rhythm
masking a vocal,
So oddly high in pitch, yet a whisper
When voiced.
Yet at that the cranium watches
As enquiries linger at the tip
Of her cebrum, for thee
Who's not ready for quest shall swim
In a cage of self doubt.
Visions of Visions
Far in the misty mountains they live,
Cloudy and lousy the skies are not limits as
Beyond they go Visions of Visions .
Deep in the far lands that ,less men enter
Flowing with passion,with rhythm of grace
Maneuver the foundation of Visions .
Cohabiting the epitome, the grace and beauties of this world
Shining bright as light from that of the stars
Standing up and high in the skies
Can they only be seen from afar with the naked eye?
But thee with Visions can see forth
Climbing higher to reach the stars
It takes Visions of Visions for one to,
Attain the greatness that comes with
Thee Visions of Visions
In Crackling peddles they will step
In hard rock they will work
In steep slopes they will climb
They will drench in sweat at cold nights.
Their touch like a gentle bear's caress
Milk and honey flow in the realm of Visions
Their fragrance as equal to that of a nursery of roses
Giggling melodic tunes in my ear
Faint and soft like angelic voices that
Only those with ears of the heart can bear
Are Visions of Visions hawling deep inside
A name, by itself, is nothing...
Some of us appearing to love hate...
Some seeming to find beauty in Gore...
while others, more astute, understand
that behavior is its own proper
definition –
though stories are
the mothers of words...they die
on their pages, if only read and not
taken to heart....
Let us start this flight together –
with our sounds and images, soaring far above the
texts of common sky, seeking rhymes and cadences
nearer those brighter lights of poetry, finding such muses
cohabiting with the keepers of stars....
she draws memories in melodies with her eyes.
she deceives the moon
with the stars,
backspace,
and the sun
back spaces
to lengthen her daylights of joy and shorten her nights of sadness.
the direction of her gravity is twisted,
she levitates when others fall.
she is my Great grandmother's grimoire
filled with magic and spells
there are explosions in her tongue
when she smiles
she laughs
the splendor of her grins teleports to thousands of souls on her palms
It's as if God is dancing in her bones.
She is not a glass
half full or
half empty.
She dreams in Numbers.
She is heaven and hell
cohabiting together in your chest.
She is the gaps between the stitches of wounds.
She's not what lies underneath your scabs.
She's a womxn,
not scorned.
Poetic Rea
I
Wolves howl, wonderfully if eerily, as winds -
Under the weather when weather is artic
One least expects this clime in the tropics
His tin roof resists, rattles, reverberates
Wrapping a cloak more tightly, he falls to his knees
The spiders, sparrows, and starlings cohabiting hear, "LORD, please -
Save my roof. I can't afford to lose mine." By degrees
The winds cease; the man remains on his knees
For the rain is heard in sleets, sheets of water
Welcome for fauna and flora ... do they feel an aura?
A man who once knew God as Friend, had then turned -
Like Grandfather in Spyri's Heidi story, on everyone
Gone up on the mountain, monk-like, beyond year 1
Rarely came down among people and provision
Surviving all kinds of weather with few books and Bible
A small radio, and no other luxuries, but a kettle
That whistled its witness: weathering heights again!
Among eagles and kites (and a beloved peregrine)
People drink rum
And act dumb
Just for a spank in a bum
Those are the ones that make me feel numb
They say love does not exist
Check the Brocken hearted in their list
Because they are still missed
By those their love they dismissed
Look what they have done to the society
Now people just wanna date
Because their partners intensions are not straight
As a result they think cohabiting is great
Some hearts are fenced and
Such hearts have been broken because they’ve
Subscribed to true love and in our days no men
Submit to true love for they are afraid of being victims
Love is overrated
Lovers know that this is not true yet
Lust is confused with love because
Liars seduces others in the name of love
In love there are no victims because
Love does not rejoice over wrong doing
And it bears all things
To mutually benefit its partakers
Eve took an advantage of love and
Heave all her offspring to mistrust
Naïve I’ve been labeled because I still
Believe in true love.
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