Double parked
in a no-comment zone
A writer sat quiet
unheard and alone
Idling vacant
the needle on E
Silence impended
no crossing of T’s
Given to vagrancy
nothing else left
Sounds in the distance
begone and bereft
A Muse but a figment
of something not heard
His vacuous instant
—devoid of the word
(Dreamsleep: January, 2023)
AFRICA IS NOT YOUR LAB
Monumental carcasses impended: Africa is not a lab,
A pinch of your pin is worse than knife stab -
Reducing a people you didn't create,
Solution is your cunning bait
But your weapon is merciless hate.
The stains on your lab coat is deceit,
Your agenda and past records you can't delete.
Ply your experiments in this evil's - smithy,
Poisoned-chalice to heal sounds pretty?
Not fitting. Your vaccine is the assassin;
Medicine from Tennessee tested on the Edisons
Might not be antidote in Benin for the Bensons.
Alfred Tennyson's Ulysses too surmount enemies
And so will we cos Africa is not a lab place.
Grind away! Moistenly mash up your paste,
Abort the mission to lay Africa waste.
We'll chew kola at your tricks - we're not in haste!
Not in haste to dine with ancestors & kings,
We'll dance to batá, gongon, base guitar & strings
While our liberty & redemption comes in a collabo.
Africa is definitely not your labo!
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Copyright © December, 2020.
Sitting on a lonely bench,
Memories got me blenched,
Your heart I tried to clench,
Though, the rains got me drenched,
From hearts I needed to entrench...
Your words not retrenched,
From things I wanted to bent,
While you often tended to bend,
Without letting me mend...
You, I tried to fend,
You borrowed and erased the times I used to lend,
Manipulated and used by you,
Pretending to be a friend...
From hallows I ascended
From errors you descended,
My life wished to be attended.
Even though, you got me expended,
My hands were still extended,
Even though, you got me offended...
The times I misspended,
You still condescended me,
Though, the changes were about to be impended,
I was still amended,
And I was still intended...
But, I was not comprehended,
Even though, you were condemned and untamed,
While I was aimed to be blamed,
Still, more thing you wanted to borrow and gain...
Although, this is the end,
The ways, I will paint,
For the pains to get unbended,
As I contemplate nature and life,
With memories that swayed and portended,
As my soul slowly transcended,
While sitting on a lonely bench...
It seems to me my life,
since a time not very long ago,
has somehow been restored.
That again my world is bathed in light
though I had seen the sun disown me
beyond some distant, dark horizon.
And it seems that blood's warmth has been rekindled
where frost's hard grip was slowly tightening,
that belief has resumed its unpretentious way
where doubt's destructive forces once had raged,
that spring is flaunting blossoms sweet and new
where wintertime's expected gloom impended.
And, where had idled uncharted regions of my soul,
there is you.