I hate the way you smile
But I loved the love we rot
I hate these feelings piled
And i love the feelings caught
You taught me to be me
You broke me to be free
You fixed me up with glee
Now you break me down and flee
You gave me will to move on
But broke my will to start
Your heart deserves a new dawn
While mine remains apart
I gave you love to lean to
And you gave a poison kiss
I gave you hope to be soon
But you gave me life amiss
I lost the love I got you
And you lost the gentle smile
I kept the things you'd want too
But you tossed the memories to a pile
Dying so slowly, burn the piled embers
Where I remember fire before your ghost
Touched the cold burial within my hearth.
Night snow on mantle, in belly; the hearth
Must fall to light still dark as the embers
Could melt once again my body; your ghost
Is dying within me when sheds your ghost
On skin; cold yet comes of the swollen hearth,
The dying's way with me in the embers,
The embers catch your ghost's gaze in the hearth.
How should I tell them?
Tell them who I really am-
How I feel,
How I act.
Will they still love me?
Will they still care for me?
Will they be there for me?
Something I will never know.
Something lost out there.
Something I will probably never see.
That part of me is hidden.
Buried so deep,
other wounds are already piled
on top of it.
All white, like the two walls of my room
A glass bottle sitting on it, same shade as the other two
A switchboard beside, with the router plugged in
Only had the ceiling lights --- brightness is quite dim
Four rows of a vertical shelf and a dressing mirror
But the two wooden shelves on it, is what I actually admire
A wooden bed frame, the door and a window
Yet something about the whiteboard made my brain follow
The humid air turned the room musty
Yet the worktop wasn't at all dusty
But oh ! I reached for the two shelves, and the dust had piled
Then I realised that the cupboard roof also needs dusting once in a while
The adapter plugged into the switchboard, also needs to be wiped off sometimes
I love my workspace but it shouldn't be where I'm confined
Upon my conscious, above
My conscious,
September lingers over
Like a leaf refusing to fall–
From the tree.
January calls for
New beginnings,
February grants a kiss;
May bells release the children,
And august brings us back,
Again.
But September–
Refuses to fall from the tree.
The wind cannot rustle these leaves,
And when it blows,
The silence grows stronger;
Blows,
Blows,
And September grieves
But–
Refuses to fall from the tree.
Change is prominent,
Good, ineluctable,
And yet.
Grasp me and drag me
Through the rakes,
Piled high,
With every other individual
Who's conscious stagnates
Beneath september,
Still green on the branch.
I want to drag it down with me!
Wind blows,
September rustles–
History, unlike myself,
Cannot change.
But I can, and will,
Fall from the tree.
And now she was left.
Bones freezing, ears daring to prick up.
Her body failing to go on alert due to pure exhaustion.
Out of the corner of her soggy eye she saw a figure.
All of the energy left in her piled together.
She stood up.
The washed up of shores of the apple cores,
Magnetized child to her waist and cradle,
Teenage years amplify their fears,
he'll be washed up in a couple of years.
Eyes of angst, piled up beach banks,
Gators in the shallow & fear of gallows,
Pressing on the neck in a dream of sea-wrecks,
Popping of balloons near sinking Saloons.
Remember the day in which we'll run & play
Ignoring the truth of everything they'll say,
Hopping along to every child-hood song
& ignorance to a hot furnace's wrongs.
The floor being turning points of doors,
wood that follows ends up rotten hollow
The knife in the chest that proves so fatal,
the blowing of a child's delightful petals.
Ooey, gooey pizza,
piled high with melty cheese.
Pizza's my favorite meal.
Greasy pepperoni,
spicy sausage too—
I can eat it every day.
Tempting smells
greet my nose
with a garlicky hello.
It's much too hot.
I cannot wait
to eat my slice of pizza.
It’s National Hot Dog Day,
Let’s all celebrate!
I’ll have mine with mustard and ketchup,
And maybe relish on my plate.
Piled high with onions,
Chili, or some cheese,
I’ll eat my favorite hot dog—
Can I have a footlong, please?
Wait… what does footlong even mean?
When there is a lot to handle in life,
And catastrophes going on inside my mind..
I turn inwards, seeking for a sign.
The mountain of failures piled high
Like a castle, look me dead in the eye.
Could’ve beens and should’ve beens;
Written all over them like splattered ink on walls.
I retrospect and reflect on them.
Not pushing them away,
Merely trying to hold them in place.
The failures that once intimidated me,
Tell me tales of bravery and resilience.
They narrate the story of a battle well fought;
The scars etched in my heart;
Portray the image of a warrior,
Who never surrendered.
It is on days like this;
That I bleed ink.
The veins cut open,
Like a wound waiting to heal.
The only difference is that,
They bleed ink.
I bleed ink because it is the only way I thrive.
I put up a fight with my caricature of words,
That one cannot easily survive.
I bleed ink because it makes me feel alive.
Grab a crab, nab a snack.
Crack a claw, smack a stack!
Mayo mellow, a silky spread.
Ham piled high on crusty bread.
Salad stacked, crisp and bright.
Every mouthful is pure delight.
Best darn sandwich you've ever seen.
Packed with pickles fresh and green.
Watch them crab claws — They're set to go!
Grab too late? — You'll know your woe!
Toasted, roasted, golden brown.
Best darn snack in town, hands down.
Crunch and munch, chew with cheer,
Grab another while you're here!
Hands have fingers; crabs have claws.
Both love lunches—that's the cause!
Faces has smiles; claws have jaws!
So grab a crab and catch a snack.
Smack your lips and whack it back!
In 1836, a posse of brave European settlers
Riding horses, armed with muskets
Brutally killed 12 Wiradjuri men, women and children
Can you remind me who the uncivilised ones were?
It all happened not far from my home
Where the kookaburras laugh high in the gum trees
Bodies piled up and burned like rubbish
Can you remind me who the uncivilised ones were?
It was rough justice they said
For the killing of two white settlers by Wiradjuri warriors
But dirty little secrets can’t be kept forever
Can you remind me who the uncivilised ones were?
Courage, bravery, wisdom and love
Maybe we can learn these things
From the traditional owners of the land.
Clarity Through Static
She sits where chandeliers spill gold on marble floors
Diamond cold against her throat, Gucci bag at her side
Friends lean in, laughter bright like baubles in a ballroom
Talk spins: Paris in spring, Italy by the sea, new bags, new trips
Forks touch plates piled high, then rest. Half the food untouched, cooling
Beneath the diamonds beats a broken soul in velvet seams
She laughs, but the sound thins out before it reaches her eyes
Outside the glass, heat shimmers off the street
On the footpath a crate holds donuts dusted with sugar and sweat
Her dress is patched, joggers dusty from miles walked before dawn
Wrinkles carve worry lines, but her eyes keep a steady, quiet light
She stands through summer, smiling at each passerby
Under the bridge by garbage bins is where she sleeps, yet she thanks God
Hunger rises when the restaurant door opens and scents drift out
She feels it, turns, sells one more donut and counts it as enough
Static clears. Her gratitude rings truer than hollow chimes
Poet’s Note
Date: April 22, 2026
Title chosen: Clarity Through Static
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
Working overtime and the hours late
get home hungry but you already ate
The fridge is empty and dishes piled in sink
to top it off our love life is absent it stinks
Streaming your shows no time to talk
the bed is covered with new clothes you bought
Bills overflow and are past due
not even a part time job is for you
Open the closet and shoes shoes shoes
I got two pairs but hundreds for you
I lay in the bathtub trying to sleep
you use the toilet and my nose weeps
Sleeping in the SUV I wonder how
what went wrong, what now
In the morning I shower and you join me
breakfast was made ready who could you be
You got a job working from home
and your signing bonus pays off our car loan
Come home early and the house is clean
you're fixing supper like a cooking machine
That night in bed we forgot to sleep
so this is love and you're for keeps.
I am running forward.
The sunlight is beating down fiercely.
Why, you ask?
Because I have committed the crime of love.
I am holding up an umbrella.
Your tears are falling endlessly like rain.
Why, you ask?
Because I cannot bear to accept your tears.
I am touching the snowflakes.
Your pure, white skin blinds me with its radiance.
Why, you ask?
Because I cannot bear to let go of your dazzling love.
I am touching the fallen leaves.
The endlessly piled leaves reveal your lonely heart.
Why, you ask?
Because I am soothing your loneliness.
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