As a child at night, tucked up into bed
counting sheep would never work for me
counting only up to three
then drifting from my head
An imagination Big enough
self-sabotaging dread
a shadowed figurine
with glowing eyes instead
whistling gusts of wind
the creepy creaking shed
What if something hungry lurked outside
looking to be fed
its favourite snack was little girls, with ringlet curls
who wore Pjs colour red
scared but curious, I tiptoed across and carefully I tread
perching by my window
oddly sitting on the ledge
was a creature looking back
tilting slow its head
A frightening hoot so loud
was why I spun around, and to my parent's room
whizzingly I fled
How could you do that to yourself?
You don't even have the slightest idea of how it felt.
You are just making things up,
You have no idea how hard it is to coverup.
All the pain I went through,
Seems meaningless after seeing myself with no clue.
Tried so hard to not look at others.
But kept self sabotaging one after the other.
Never thought I'd ever end up here,
But that's what you get after dealing with extreme pain and fear.
Life gets better and everything happens for a reason,
But deep down we all know that I am meant to be a bad season.
A daydream
as some Africans wait for some western
media to push the agenda of decolonisation
of Africa.
A daydream
when some Africans of diaspora think of being
respected by some westerners
when some African countries
are still in neo - colonisation.
A daydream
when some Africans sing about "free Africa "
and others join colonisers
to remain in neo-colony
for the minority benefits.
A daydream
when millions of Africans
and african descendents
keep promoting some western stuffs
on social networks which ruine
the development of Africa.
A daydream
when some western corruptors
and banks cupture some African corrupt leaders
and end up sabotaging the economy
of their counties wantonly.
A dream
To Free Africa is a good dream
of many loyal african leaders
who continue to stand for the rights
of all Africans.
A dream
To Unite Africans is a good dream
of millions of Africans who are betrayed
by some African traitors.
All I can think of, is the million different ways...
that you will try to screw me over.
And I can't change my mind.
I've got the worst kind.
Sabotaging,
Anticipating,
Spiraling,
Catastrophizing.
I don't think Love is for me.
It always comes with pain.
Even when good and healthy,
my mind still thinks this way.
Ruminating.
Contemplating...
in disbelief.
But, still believing.
Warned you once, and then twice. Then again
and again and again.
Wasn't kidding, at all when I said...
my mind'll spin and spin and spin.
Be everything I need, and all that I want...
and what I never had before.
I know it's crazy. I'm unrealistic. Void's been
burning me deep to my core.
Do you deserve better? Do I deserve more?
Do I need hate?
Can you still adore?
All I can do is put trust in something,
even when my heart is torn.
Believe that this love is worth all things;
the terror, the pain...
the crazy... the dizzy...
the anxiety.... the agony...
the want... then the hate...
my heart is just too damn sore.
Oh, it is like any other night
Quite quietly still
Neither a stir nor a quiver
Neither a hush nor a shush
No stars, not even the moon
peeking through the dark quilt
of a shadowless night.
Yet my heart is pounding heartlessly
Yet my mind is meandering mindlessly.
It is about time to curl up and repose
let my soul slumber and debunk my ego,
But wonder why my spirit is so restive?
My emotions unruly,
Why this night is sabotaging my sleep?
Loneliness, like a black Mamba,
slithers over the white marble floor
of my bedroom and coils itself up
around my wayward thoughts,
It tightens its grip to exorcize the
dark demons dwelling within my soul…
Doorbell chimes,
Someone’s at the door!
Giving someone something for nothing
Worst idea in the history of man
Yesterday's safety net expanded to universal permanent entitlements
~ Sabotaging esprit de corps with 'Gimme-what-I've-got-coming'
environments
Tetra Two 2222 is a black hat
Unknown sabotaging the system
Making our identities vulnerable
Hacking tracking & blackmailing..
In the morning, putting on pants, its gangling legs
become entangled with mine.
It has thrown pillows on the floor again.
It has made a permanent dent in the recliner seat.
Leafing through notebooks of old poems,
I find more evidence of its hand sabotaging my life.
It stalks me in Target like a thrifty wife,
while my thrifty wife controls it with remote eyes.
It is older than me, fatter and less agile.
It sends ornaments crashing to the floor as I pass.
On rainy Wednesdays it will shrink itself
into a small hump-backed mood.
Tonight I suspect it will drink too much.
Yesterday evening it trod on my spectacles.
It will be sorry tomorrow morning,
but I am done with all of its excuses.
I have come to a bitter conclusion
I’m not writing what editors want,
My rejections are coming in profusion
It’s clear I am not a poetry savant.
I fear my muse is sabotaging me
With insignificant verse and rhyme,
She recently started charging a fee
For more than three lines at a time.
I think I’ll give her the old heave ho
To strike out versifying on my own,
But I hate to kick her out the door
She’s good with a rare homophone.
Maybe I shouldn’t blame my muse
For when I’m inclined to boggle a line,
She provides a convenient excuse
Then she’ll give me a word that’s fine.
Written June 22, 2022
Waiting
Waiting for the power to turn it on
Untouched by the wreckage that dangles from my heart
How can someone disconnect so fast
How does a heart turn off so fast
Leaving
Blaming
Playing games
Heartless
Walls full of memories
Dangling by a hook
Ready to come crashing down around my feet
Stepping on shards of glass
Feeling nothing inside
Sabotaging my heart
Bleeding out to the end
Fading
Fading away
As nothing comes my way
Fleeing
For love doesn’t stay
In the dance between
the moon and grass,
There I stood indifferent
to the tears in my cheeks.
Once again I fall back
To the terrain
I hadn’t seen in a while
It welcomes me sweetly
While I desperately try to get away
Suffocating my sleep
Sabotaging my breath
Blurring my gaze
Slowly
Becoming home again
as if I didn't know it was you
after all this time
becoming nothing inside of me
I'm tired of carrying your leftovers
sabotaging my victories
you who saddened my planets
look up there the missiles strolling
already looking for people like us
look there among your memories
there must be something that justifies us
a damn happy breakfast
after absence
two or three tears
and an ashtray full of goodbye
birds fly unaware of the danger of the weather.
from their perspective they may not realize
the roofs that shelter us cloistered
trapped in wooden or cement crates
from above the birds follow, without knowing
the ordinary and corrosive parade of days
sabotaging and turning into trash
both dreams and desires
of human generations believed to have been chosen
the birds didn't feel
every sunset of this and other millennia
the scent of goodbye welling up from the shadows
and if later they saw in the avenues
the glare of aimless car headlights
didn't even understand that this is just
another one of the ways that men have
to escape their individual apocalypses
it was some old cold afternoon
that the birds have given up on understanding
the span of their wings and the reason for their lives
the origin of the impulse that took them to fly
it was on an afternoon just like this
long, cold and inhospitable
that the birds beat their wings hard and flew
looking to just be
Chaos
loud, wild
rattling, upending, sabotaging
Toxin, Despair, Remedy, Hope
encouraging, stabilizing, healing
quiet, calm
Peace.
The most mischievous of culprits,
A tough veil over its secrets;
Devilishly keeps patrolling incognito
For the unilateral contracts it enters into.
The Eternally Incommunicado;
But easily us reaching without ado,
No signature endorsing after a collection;
Merchandise shipping to abysmal direction,
The reason why I can’t praise its business empire,
Indeed, any transaction with no umpire.
Fallout of Eve’s naivety,
And unwitting acceptance of Free Captivity,
After “a Do-this-and-not-that” instruction,
Making allowance for reckless decision,
Its fulfillment the handiwork of Cherubims,
Behind leaving their Seraphims,
For a continual swinging of fire-vomiting swords,
That must implement God’s voiced words.
Today, my ugliest frowns at sabotaging spade,
And the longest sigh for being a mortal made.
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