Of friends, Of love, Of anything that blooms beautifully in the crevice of my heart
your body cloaks in the emblem of God’s love—
you caricature your way into my heart,
transport the love into my soul…
an old myth
…I awoke, a dead owl upon your threshold
I am the old myth
That rises and sets
Yet, a foreshadow of darker days.
I am the shadow that hides in light…
A Taste of Heaven
…My taste buds know no other taste when pain sits
Like a king at the bridge of my tongue
I have felt enough pain to master its taste
It is bitter-sour, it tastes like sand and despair…
The Future
Since I tasted my mother's milk, they whispered of my boundless potential,
Building expectations of greatness, as if it were quintessential.
But now doubts creep in, casting shadows on lofty heights,
Anxiety haunts my slumber, cloaking my nights…
weathering
…In loving you the way I knew how - the way I learned from the people who first loved me, so fully and completely, I brought the cloud and the sun and made it rain…
My War Story
My pose just like the prose,
we take a stand today again,
a peace keeping mission it should be,
“in and out” they said…
My Christmas Culture
Every year
On Christmas Eve, all the children make a bonfire
With the dried and fallen mango leaves.
We are setting on fire, old and rubbish items
That will no longer be a part of us.
The Rape Joke
The rape joke is that sixteen was a series of getting away and never telling your parents.
The rape joke is that you shouldn't have let him.
Late Sunday
it’s sunday, the first day
of our mutual friend’s
african and african
american film festival
here on america’s morning,
which is africa’s night before
Still Her Weapon
They refused to lie in the soothing arms
of early morning’s sleep. They balanced their overweight bodies
on their grounded feet and walked to the kitchen like shrewd kids on a mission;
working in a tango to make peanut butter sandwiches
and warm up water for me…
Shape Shifting
Yesterday, it was well... simple, straightforward, well fenced
Today, spillovers everywhere, untamed
Love, shape-shifting, evolving, dynamic
In today, out tomorrow... but not so much
Love lingers, it's flavour coating the taste buds like pepper soup
Loving dribbles down the fingers like juice from the bone marrows of
chicken…
How We First Made Love
The first boy
That ever placed his hands on my body,
held my mind down, so carefully
Like a skin carpet beaten too finely
You can't push a needle through
I was nine…
Now That I Live
Speak of my goodness now that I live,
Tell of my good name now that I can perceive.
It should not be that on my last bed,
You will wash my name with spittle full of glory
So futile that my rag will not smile at your story…