*Flesh* by Blossom Monyei
Is it our fault as human beings?
We were given flesh.
Obeying its commands.
We drown in the consequences of our sins.
Even as we strive to pay no heed to our flesh.
We're pulled for it to be satisfied,
Pressured by our peers to enjoy.
We compromise and satisfy our hungry flesh.
Flesh of bottles,
Flesh of greediness,
Flesh of lust,
Flesh of worldliness.
Trials and temptations we can't skip,
It's like walking through a hallway filled with devilish hypnosis,
Pulling, pulling to satisfy our hungry flesh,
How'd we walk without being hypnotized?
Take away this flesh,
It weakens our faith,
We aren't strong enough.
So everytime we fall.
Copyright ©? Blossom Monyei, the bleeding Pen. 8/31/25.
In the wee hours mansions where hushed glooms sneak flesh
Flesh that gossips furtive malice in minds' natural breath
Breath that stimulates crooked cravings inside the disappearing doom
Doom slopes upon the feeling’s ending, perverted plea
Plea shades its crimson mantle around the nocturnal mind.
Mind inspired by secret wrath below a pastel skin
Skin that fleeces a monster whose faintness shams piety sin
Sin that buds in plagiarized hilarity, deriding deadly impasse
Impasse on a land of walking humans in skins yet inner evils.
Poem by N. Mugisho
You arrived like dusk—
not falling, but folding the sky inward,
your body a benediction
I knelt to translate.
No prayer passed my lips,
only the hush of devotion,
tongue pressed to the scripture
written in your trembling.
And when you opened—
not like a door,
but like dusk releases the bloom
too shy for daylight—
I drank not of desire
but of trust, poured full.
Your thighs curved like parentheses
around a secret I was meant to hold.
Your hands, constellations mapping
the shape of surrender.
We traced each other in tides,
language drawn from salt and ache.
I descended beneath reason,
rose beneath breath.
My name vanished into your gasp
as yours bloomed on my tongue.
We were not two,
but twin liturgies—
each mouth a chalice,
each exhale, gospel.
We worshipped without altar,
knowing the body is the holiest text
we dare not read aloud.
And when we broke,
it was not into silence
but into starlight—
shared, swallowed,
sung.
After The Psalm of Life,
by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
One need not continue seeking,
For that elusive, immortal dream.
Our bodies aging, joints creaking,
Yet we each have, before unseen...
A body that's made of spirit,
That breaks forth when this flesh dies!
And the grave, we need not fear it;
Yes, death will come ~but we shall rise!
Until then, you who are listening,
Ensure that every step you take;
Be a benediction christening~
A life well lived for your namesake.
'What does the ticking of a melting clock sound like?'—overheard in Dalí
_______________________
A clock made from ice
lies on sun-scolded tiles—
the ticks go
slower,
steadier,
harder—
as the pool of water
grows,
wakes,
devours—
The ticks become a pounding
beat
as the clock melts
into throbbing muscles
From timeless to time—
From time to flowing blood—
When forms collapse into echoes...
that’s when the carol ends.
The rustling of leaves interplays with the ocean breeze,
as traces of moonlight escape through blackout curtains hanging from steel rods.
Bolts of illumination highlight stacks of books caked in dust,
while a man, decrepit with age, sits on a worn auburn-coloured leather chair.
His balding hair is grey from years of turmoil.
Wrinkles lay heavy, nestled deep within his face,
exposing the fragility in his demeanor.
Placed before him: stark white paper and a singular obsidian pen.
Removing his wire-thin spectacles, he wipes them gingerly with his nightshirt
and returns them safely to perch on his sunken cheeks.
Ruminating words flood through his mind
as he picks up the pen with his slender fingers.
The grandfather clock approaches three in the morning to the left of him,
reminding him that time is not on his side.
Scribbling fragments of what he can remember on the paper,
his last will and testament begins to unfold—
final wishes interwoven with untold life stories.
Loneliness weighs heavy in his heart
as the wavering flames of his existence extinguish
with his concluding pen strokes.
Awakening humanity.' Struggling within the breadth and depth of possibility's revelling in those possibility's and also an
Obstinancy.' Blood-soaked actions stoking their reality wanderers all' Lost leaders exploring so much iniquity bursts of good; with some intensity! Travelling in orbits so
Habitually. Builders of edifices in great vanity' until redemption through the veil of flesh; to humanity.' By God
Good Father and intervetionally, in records; and at places
Known historically.' We can follow direction to equanimity'
To Love of all by His path to unity.. No competing teachings.. Some of religiousity.? combine of all factors
Universally, other volumes speak of gaining peace by violence? and volitillity.' In divisivness and opressivity."
By opting children into marriage or co'habitation.. There
Is also taught' forced subjection and much rapicity.!
HEARTS
of gold
will melt in
the heat of scorn
n'pride, where greed is born.
hearts of stone feel no pain,
loss, nor happiness again.
numb to sorrow but also peace...
imprisoned in stone with no release.
a heart of lead, so heavy with poison,
with bitterness, regret, weighing you down
into the dark~ into depths to drown.
a heart of clay will grow stronger
in the oven of hot lust...
but shatter when it’s hit,
fragile, it will bust.
when flesh and blood,
love's sharp darts...
find true
HEARTS.
no sound
in a cascade of nerves
submerged
amid a myriad of silences
a serpentine fold
slices through the viscera
and a breath
of phosphor
burns
in the chest’s hollow
a crawling rhythm
of an aborted name
shapeless
a lunar longing
locks into the bones
among the remnants
of a collapsed nebula
I do not heal
I do not return
I am
flesh that refuses form
A funeral pyre a blaze of doom
Perhaps a Phoenix of life resume
A chosen time of rebirth concieve
Fluttering to the earth a giving seed
Twilight's hush, a tempest's roar
To drag myself up from the floor
A breath perhaps a moment shared
Before deaths suite would come to dare
A yearning a dream upon deaths door
A deep desire washed upon the shore
Revived of light a holy plea
Drowning in a heavenly sea
When will she come to me
To take me to that place
Where I suppose, we shall be free
Like spirits in the space
The fortuneteller gave reply
Ambiguous and wise
But no advice on what to try
Should I just close my eyes
Engage myself into the realm
Of pure imagination
And it’ll make me overwhelmed
With the enforced elation
There, on the boat of dreaming fools
Under the stormy sky
I’ll be, submissive to the rules
That can’t be clarified
Death, Five of Cups, and Hanged Man
These were the cards I drew
A penny for old Charon
For taking me to you
It’s hard to tell, and hard to take
The simple fact of death
Denies a dream I have to make
No life without breath
Seems possible, we need a flesh
For birth, rebirth and all
You name it, and I press refresh
To hear my fortune’s call.
Eros,
his temple, night,
fire burns higher/minds meld.
Windows like eyes glow, flare and ebb
set free.
A
bird,
with eyes
that pierce vast skies,
seeing colors bright as a rainbow above.
A valiant king of boundless air, as lions rule land,
it braves the storm, ascending even higher.
Its mighty claw strike swift,
feasting
upon only
the fresh
flesh of prey.
Who dreams of inspiration ~
his flesh quivers with trepidation
MY SON
In the middle of the City stands a tall gum tree
With a trunk so bright reaching out to Yeah
Jacaranda nearby looking up at me
Yet I stand tall and proud for the world to see
Sun sets on my trunk at the end of the day
Trials Tribulations, I have a lot to say
Don’t mean no harm to come your way
So much to say at the end of the day
I aint no clone I aint no fool
I mean no harm to come to me nor you
Flesh and blood aint no excuse
I need your love not you’re abuse
So hang on tight for time is neigh
So so sad just a wasting away
On your response, I am but waiting
I’m a patient man but time is a fading
Love dad
Related Poems