Midnight Candid

  The lights are off in my room. I lay in my bed with my duvet covering just my legs from the waist down. I am naked. Waist up, I have on my over sized dashiki. With my head on my arm, I type this text. The breeze in my room is just right. I…

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ODE to a SMITH

Rolling off the tongue, A metamorphosed shtick of pleasure. In and out In and out –  it moves with rigorous friction and pressure. A bitter sweet taste of everlasting serenity, Only drowned by the spittle seeping from the lip-side. One might groan and moan from the intense pleasure; Yet is steady as not to release…

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Where I come from…

I come from a place where good morning means nothing A place where respect is earned Not by Face value But by the lining in my pocket. I come from a place where Dabidabi 3b3y3 yie is the national anthem Sang for some 59 years and yet nothing seems to fathom All I hear is 3nd3 di3…

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What Happens At Dawn

What happens at dawn? Do you not wonder? When sleep shifts from 5th to 3rd. Ignore the 4th For forth comes the lazy 2nd. Till you land on the 1st – gear of sleep The 1st person to wake. Mama Akos. The sound and strength of her short broom against the hard concrete floor. Like…

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Eve’s Picasso.

Plastic girls in their plastic world Making men fume with their plastic chord Tis this fakery that binds them all Strangling and struggling In their plastic core Once upon a time, tis cliché When all but her innocence remained She found Picasso’s brush as it lay This – the beginning of a fuss and a…

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Poetry Is Not Dead.

As I lay my head to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep. Poetry is not dead. They said. Why should I waste my time then? To dive deep into my sea-of-thoughts And row my words to the shore of human intellect. Adding up long winded nonsense of grammatical word play. To what…

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An Ode to Her Memory

“If you go away on a summer’s day You might as well take the sun away” Words I recount as I sit at bay Wondering, how her memory still fills this day It was just yesterday that we swung and swayed Now 3 years past, since you went back to Clay. How life and death…

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I AM A MAN – ?

  Am I a man? Just because I have a penis and an Adam’s apple? Am I a man just because society tells me so? Or because “mister” precedes my name. You would think by the doctor exclaiming “it’s a boy!” I would automatically grow up to be a man. In this case, I am…

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An Interview

I sat down close to her. Propped myself up. Did she notice it? I pushed up my glasses. I shifted a little in my chair. Did she notice it this time? “So Mr. Adam…” Oh no!! She is talking to me.  My lashes Pat too much. Ok don’t move your hands. Maybe she won’t notice.…

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Je suis Fatigue – Not poetry, An Explanation.

A propagation of the truth will leave the scholarly in vagueness As to why a damsel in her 21st century still feels distress See that? Yes I’m tired of writing proper English To explain to you damsels how life tingles I mean, I owe know thing nothing Yet, today I sit, turning in this widening…

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