Writing – Page 6 – SIMPLE WORLD

guava road

Sunshine like I’m back in the north

Back with you in the sun

Riding the wave of Kaduna

I want you to never let go

I remember holding onto you

You, my addiction

Tension rising when I left

Issues you never talked about

Passion flowing when we talk

Only through the phone, you say

You want that body heat intensity

I’ll give to you all I receive

Falling, tearing apart

Even bitter feelings

Still, I want you more than you know

Miles away, I still feel you close

lessons from two thousand seasons

Never getting caught by the devil

I hear the hissing

Multiple demons on my trail

Holy Ghost walking though

Never blinded by the yellow road

Free to see God when I choose

New generation, same results

Hell rings louder by the day after

Demon vibrations reaching infants now

Sad!

Lucifer frequencies catching souls before the sun rises

This fire that I live in

tells a tale of luxury and forgotten ways

Destroyers spreading barren diseases

Predators preying on sunken sun-children

This living has me turning south

Face facing east, away from the fallen cathedral

All I see: fake bleached preachers

snatching the black out from our human bodies

During the times that have come by, I pray for war to come. Not these new modern warfare. The old kind. Those ones stationed between battle noise and mud trenches. The zipping sounds of mortars, as empty bullet shells illuminate the blood heavy war terrain. Soldier boots marching through old places that were once called new homes.

Yes, I pray night and day. Night and day! Yes, for at night sleep refuses me and tosses me in between my past memories and a future I remain nameless.

………………………………..

These drones are empty vessels. They are transporters of bad news and death. For our souls do hunger for a reason to accept sleep, but no! Not these ones. These silent birds made with fiber like materials only look down, fall flat, and never return up.

Like thin dots silently scattered.

Only if your hands be wide as the oceans floors and you bring them together then one might see how much these dots have cost us.

…………………………………

I grow sick by the hour. Every hour eaten in silence. Every chance taken just to remain still. I grow deeper into my own anger. Madness beckons daringly close ….and I fear I will welcome it back home.

Commander Bull. ENTRY #204881

Battlefront Shagari Sector, Year 2098

Simple World: In the Key of Blue

Their skin bounced back essence to the sun. All clothed in flowing dresses, they walked softly moving through the green thick forest. Animals from the regressed to the wild free stood still watching the people quietly breeze through. Silence all around. Where were they going?

Four seasons ago, their king had invoked the god’s anger into their land. Though long gone and buried, his sins was being paid with the blood of the young children of now. Fathers lost hope: farm lands empty with no farmer to fill the soil with seeds. Mothers prayed to the gods for their children to see the rising of the next day.

“The days of sorrow are here, god’s retributions will follow our people till the very ends of the world till a way, our way, is regained.”

We the new generation feel the pain of our long forgotten people in our very bones that is why most of us seek but do not find. We are kings and queens all looking for our misplaced crowns. We wear clothes but walk through life naked.

Listen to the cries of the lost warriors, on ships they laid, their bare skins pricking woods. Their faces peering through hoping to catch the sun before it settles.

You fight, we fight. The struggle remains. We are pharaohs looking for our ancient city.

The mad men of this world will not bring us answers for their souls has been quenched by the blackened black oil called greed. Look around no one has the path to our way, the few who do are locked in the trenches of man-made hell.

Seek, pursue.

Supplement but never compromise.

Life is one has we all are; unique enough to be distinguished from one another.

Differences never made the better man.

Wherever the head rest know the foundations have been mixed by elements that will remain till the coming of our way.

Yes, yes. Can I truly say the beayoutiful ones have not yet been born? Where is that generation that will be bring water to quench the thirst of my people? Are they here? Living amongst us. Or is greed, our greed killing every hope they hold.

I have no answers only a drive to seek my own.

Simple World: War Sight

When I open my eyes all I see is an untainted red; first a specter forms spreading into a canvass of dappled blood, all trapped around my cornea. But when my sight releases itself from its temporary bind a light blue hue explodes into my pupils fading away the once known pain. I am he. A solider who forgot the calls of death in the early rise of war-battle. Shout at me and I will keep marching forward for my name refuses to settle in my wall of thoughts. What I seek now is not redemption nor forgiveness. I only ask for the scythes of death to bring me the silence of love; an end to where I may begin knowing my woman awaits at the pearly gates of my awakening.

So I Say

Casualty, casualty

Rid me of pretense

For when my memories flood in

I am left in the green lush bush

Thick with regrets;

Regrets born from the dragon’s fire

And as the night dissipates

Burning with the fire called love

In my hand, liquor my king, reigns

My crown to hold

My own Queen’s touch gone

Her scent nowhere to be smelled

Casualty, casualty

The wars of my forgotten fathers

have brought me the cold of tomorrow

Casualty, oh casualty

My mother’s love has

Fled from my abode

Casualty, dearest you

Where do you hide my lover’s silk?

Her ivory skin lingers in my tongue

Casualty, forgotten one

Bring me home

To where my bones

May find soil

To stand on ground

For I fear my past sins

May eat away my flesh

Casualty, oh sweetest pain

Where’s my future?

For the present has me locked away

back in my war zone past

As the world spins on a pole of fire, souls light up dancing along with golden sun

At the Library

With my heart, body, and mind in this state of freedom I sat in the corner of the tram – Pramoedya Ananta Toer

Simple World: After the Rain Edition

The night was here with the rain from the early morning. There was nothing but the drips of cloudy waters and the occasional tweets from a settling bird. Looking now, I knew the next chapter to my life was here; the wash away of my earlier mistakes. Looking forward, I had no idea of what the aftermath of the rain would be like or feel like. But this rain had the wind blowing nicely. It had me silent, thinking about all there was to come. Would the sun in the morning bring all my needed answers?
I wouldn’t know, I couldn’t.
The feel of this weather was all I cared for. It was my moment to sit and reflect of the coming times. To watch and hope the sun would later show; full blaze. With my shoes wet, I hummed the words of Mr. Marvin Gaye: “flying high in the friendly sky, without ever leavin’ the ground”. I sang it knowing there was no longer any sign of friendlessness in this world. Regardless, I enjoyed the wetness that fell from the starry blank sky.

Simple World: Morning Edition

The air itself was music. It was not self-imposing like the train noise echoing from a distant place neither was it chipping away morning lullabies like the birds on the poles and trees. It was amidst all, and everything around it was consumed by its unapparent presence. Without most knowing, life was giving away its most prized rhythms for free. And all who thought they could hear sounds of bytes were voided in the gift of hearing.

During a dreadful storm one does care about the shouts or cries of the sea, all that matters is coming out at the brighter side of the tale. Heroic, yet a good sailor not great (because there are no great) will listen to the ascending roars of the waves and with deep insight into the ways of the water, he or she will pass through with ease. Now we all have different paths, but regardless of the set road we have a singular end point; same destination. Some require rugged tricks to pull out from the beast of the sea. But no matter your gift, wise or unwise, understanding the waves of life will help you in finding that road you desperately need to embark on, and when or if you listen, maybe your path will call out your name; Loud and strong.

For the sins of man has been fully paid.
Nothing can stop the token your thighs received when you first echoed your cries.
Rebelling against even mata, a fist of odd thoughts.
Knocking on the door of joy, craving for the taste of sea.
Morning come, money go

Random Stories of Tom and Jerry

Tom and Jerry is still one of my favorite cartoon shows. One of the only few shows with very few words. From friendship, to societal commentary, the show hits its mark on various issues affecting our society. As a child growing up in a third world country, Tom and Jerry was all I had. I mean I had electricity, went to a good school, fed well, but as per entertainment, that show kept me well fed. From its jazz inspired music the show used sights and sounds to communicate out its message.

Right now, I am currently watching an episode in which Tom tries to eat a gold-fish, but Jerry saves the gold-fish (a girl) by bringing a shark into the situation. To be brief, Tom runs away and Jerry is left with the gold-fish and tries to hit on her. But he too runs away when the shark claims the gold-fish all to himself. It’s a shark eat, shark world. Being nice is the new vintage.

Special Light

Where is one’s mind when there is only a glass full of spring, placed on a ceramic counter ready for a ‘gulp’? I searched for the needed words, but the words where hard to find. I could write about the receding past, speak about the locked up stories, and fume about the rejected future, but the present times that I was in completely eluded me. There was a wall that I could not climb over. Even the hammer that I held in my hands had no effect when I tried breaking through that monstrosity that stood before me.

So I tried waiting in the calm evening hoping for the birds to fly down my way singing to me those words I had long sought. That did not work. I could not use love, it would have drowned and wasted my thoughts leaving me with an idle pen.

So again what must I find to revive my buried stories? The light that I had held onto for so long was dim and gradually fading even though the ‘ticked’ check on my shoes was made by a just do it company. So what more did I need. The heavens had already spoken bringing the morning to my relief and the sun had also played its part by blinding my eyes with this light, still my matters were unresolved. So what more can one do than hold onto this found light and hope to break this wall piece after piece?