They found you in the dust behind the barns
A skittish spark with lightning in your legs
A diamond in the rough with uncut charm
All promise
All heartbeat
All raw edges
You burst onto the track like dawn breaking
Crowds rising as your hooves carved out a future
Every stride a prophecy every win a rumor
That greatness had been hiding in plain sight
Seasons wear on even the brightest stones
Your shine dulled not from lack but from living
From so many winning miles run hard
Expectations stacked like saddles on your back
Some whispered you’d lost your glimmer
That the sparkle they once saw slipped away
But diamonds don’t vanish they change
They carry their history in every facet
Every scuff a story every flaw a truth
And you Diamond Scuffle…
Still catch the light in your own way
Not the blinding flash of a rising star
The steady gleam of something that’s endured
You may not blaze like you once did
But you still shine
With the weight of everything you’ve been
A diamond still…
Just one that’s learned what brilliance costs
After swimming ashore
exhausted and on their last legs
when searching the beach
for somwhere secure to lay their eggs
two turtles who didn't see eye to eye
had a kerfuffle got in each other's face
and after a scuffle continued contesting
disputing the perfect nesting place
for altho' by the light of the moon
both were soon to be a mother
apparently they appeared to be
at loggerheads with one another
Having tasted substance abuse,
today in truth,
many of the young
are wasted in their youth.
But 'God damn' only the pusher
you didn't oughta
as, without the doer,
the dealer, he'd be dead in the water.
One and the same, they're both to blame,
as off each other they will feed,
the former for avarice, a.k.a., greed,
the latter for a misconceived need...
if not to allay his fears,
but cede to the pressure of his peers.
If only my life I could live over again
and the years unfold in my daily scuffle,
as at the thought of growing old,
I recoil from this mortal shuffle.
With apologies to; George Bernard Shaw (1856 – 1950) and William Shakespeare (1564 – 1616)
“In a rundown, the runner is in a pickle that could become a rhubarb.” ~ by poet
Rundown.
He's trapped between
bases being pursued
by the fielders who glibly smile
because they know they have the advantage,
to perhaps overtake and tag
the beleaguered runner,
to foil the run.
Rundown.
Under the Iroko tree I sat and pondered
As riotous thoughts held me hostage
Making the thinkable and unthinkable
Engage in brainstorming scuffle
Under the Iroko tree as I sat and pondered
The gentle breeze caressed my tired skin
Wrestling my heavy eyelids into a deep sleep
And face to face I came with the Creator of the universe
"How are you my son? He inquired
"I am fine sir" I murmured
"I am sending you to the lost sheep of Nigeria"
" Tell them they have disappointed me"
" How is that sir? I ventured
" I endowed them with unimaginable wealth"
" Of course Nigeria is the giant of Africa Sir"
" Giant of Africa with the brain of a lilliputian"
" Lord I do not understand that part"
" I gave them unprecedented Commonwealth for all Nigerians"
"Thank you lord for your generosity"
" But it ended in the pockets of a few while the deprived bother me with prayers"
" I gave them unity in diversity"
"Lord we are eternally grateful for that"
" But it has become a source of weakness as they do not value its strength"
" what message do I take to Nigerians?
" Tell their leaders that the beauty of life depends on how happy their citizens are because of them"
presense-
not one of the 5
senses- void
(destroyed)
unemployed due to
lack of necessity.
everywhere i go, they
stare, they see the
stain that's still
there. ears prick,
the mutts begin
to lick their lips,
take sips of the
sins i drip. dominant
studs, covered in
mud, smearing me
with their prodding
snouts. but i'm
the b---h, i must
scratch their itch,
& leave them & run,
utterly numb, having
spilled my senses
in the scuffle. i'm
the cause of trouble,
the liability, my
capabilities punishable
by law. there is
no last straw,
the players keep pulling &
pulling- ensuing the brawl.
bounce me about, i'm your
little toy, shoot me far,
slam dunk me- down the
hole. the game will be
yours & i'll again do what
i'm told. startled by the
light, i sneak away from
the lonely fight, sneak to
where everything's all right.
so many things we
shared, such useful things
you dared to teach. thru the
blurry air, i continued to
reach, waiting for the grasp
that would pull me out.
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