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Ambassador Amakor Poem
Inspire me like seeds rejected
thrown out,
trampled,
bruised,
killed,
buried yet fights it up
through dirts and death,
sand and dark,
to form a mighty tree that forever stands: Inspire me with such passion.
Inspire me like cockroaches. roaches chased after with torches, footwears,
stones,
brooms,
insecticides,
beaten and
flushed and
flushed and
flushed down the toilet,
yet up and
up and
up they keep rising till they make it out: Inspire me with such resilience.
Inspire me with life.
Who in peace,
chaos,
gladness and
sorrow,
pleases all like there's no tomorrow.
sings and
rings, and
brings, her goods and bad in autumn,
winter,
summer and
spring.
Tall short
white black
all she choosed to treat as same
rich poor
mighty and weak
she made all walk in her path together: Inspire me with such understanding.
Inspire me like death
yes death
I know what death taste like,
she tastes as strong as darkness, smells as strong as loneliness,
yet she comes unnoticed,
steals,
kills,
thrills and
leaves with all staring at her: unashamed.
Blood, no blood
guns, no guns
peace and fights
day or night
stabs and
jams and
beat and
hit and
choke the throats of
big and small.
Foetus,
infant,
toddler,
teens,
adult:
all marches to her hall.
play this circle all over again,
you'll see with her nature has built a bond: Inspire me with such skill.
Inspire me with me
Inspire me with me who woos at my thoughts of sucide,
death,
evil,
unsatisfaction.
Inspire me with me who fights my thoughts of giving up,
Inspire me with me who laughs me to scorn for my failures, and flogs me to make up my mistakes,
picks me,
cleanse me and set me back on track when I fall.
Inspire me with me who looks up at me for more,
inspire me with me who applauds me for ones done,
inspire me with me who sticks to the path meant for me: Inspire me like this.
Copyright © Ambassador Amakor | Year Posted 2024
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Ambassador Amakor Poem
tears gushed out from my pen,
it wasn't of its usual joy, but pain.
questions of how, where and when,
answers of now, there and then.
emotions i cant hide or feign,
moments i cant for long reign.
i sit and continually crack my brain,
he sleeps and waits for the sound of my pen.
my brain pops, my hand swells,
he wakes and perceives my pen's smell.
i write and my likes are ten,
he copies and his, a thousand and ten.
i appear as the fake, then
he appears original;the main.
till now i have come to learn,
that poetry has its own pain.
© Ambassador Amakor 2018
Copyright © Ambassador Amakor | Year Posted 2018
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Ambassador Amakor Poem
R.I.P.
Should I even say this?
R.I.P
Do you really want me to spell it out?
Like the literal REST IN PEACE?!
Reaching for ink, this feels like a seal of accepting how real this is.
These imaginations of a field untilled, with scattered papers; blank with stories waiting to be told, yet the heart growing cold.
Death's but a pause, a break, a different kind of rest; the sleep we dread!
It's like a closed book, hidden from this noise called life, where every word within are but secrets its deep sleep keeps.
R.I.P
Return If Possible.
Don't let your thunder shiver out of cold, while these blank pages are eager for your rebirth.
R.I.P
Return If Possible
Though, it's dark, but your dark is kind of bright.
Let it breakforth.
R.I.P
Return If Possible.
Some vacuums are unworthy, unnecessary, un...
While I wait for this silence to end, and this quiet to lose its claim,
I will stand on this field, and where the river bends,
I will stand and wait till you're washed up again, to this side of life, where the ink makes everything beautiful.
But till then,
R.I.P
Return If Possible
Copyright © Ambassador Amakor | Year Posted 2026
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