The preacher lied, they said
Some danced, others watched
We all live in a lie, a few whispered
A tear never wasted
A reservoir of redemption
Living where no soul dared
All vanity, he said
Yet they knew he spoke some truth
Category Archives: Writing
Chains Broken
Every step up that ladder seemed unattainable. The progress made so far was slow as it needed to be. Our thoughts were closer to pain than hope. Pain was easy to obtain. Pain required no formalities to settle into your place of rest; like an unwanted guest who refused to depart.
So I tried; again and again, on and on, I revved, but the clock refused to heed to my words. The wheels kept pushing forward; upward to somewhere that looked like heaven. So to the edge I step; a place where I had no choice but to move on.
Silence engulfs me
A deep sigh,
Back here, one last time
Then it begins
Forgetting pain and sweat, I run
My path gets more unclear by the day
But I preserve and scratch deep down
With my heart bleeding courage
I reached
I had come in last but nonetheless I had succeeded
To my own voice,
With precise clarity
I heard emptiness had fled away
Leaving behind a taste for survival
People of the Night
At this hour
Those without sleep, still search
The day was unsuccessful,
So they wait quietly in the night
Hopeful
Without any rightful mission in mind
While,
Some crave for sex in the darkness
Others crave for nothing in particular
Depriving themselves of sleep,
Only to lay down for a few hours,
And wake up miserable in the morning
Spin
When the young arrived the old quietly sat on their chairs
Our lives spin in circles hoping to align directly with our desires. Some people never get to see their deepest wishes come to fulfillment, but only a few realize whatever their heart had hoped for. They journey into loneliness without preconceived pressure, but with a free-flowing effortlessness. Unfair civilization; definitions of the world we continually live in. We are bound to hate one another with disdain and bitterness. Sometimes hoping for a change is like a ball stuck in a dead stream; hopelessly stagnant. Slowly and gradually we disappear into solitude and despair. Love seemed to be the right way but when sought and pursued, a cold shiver was received. SPIN
Third Person (Voice)
You know after all this; the constant pressure to succeed or fail, the pressure to fake a smile or a frown, the pressure to find one or another, or the constant looks from the street judges, there I am (moi). Standing there or maybe walking with my back turned, I look strange just walking, fighting my through another man’s time. I know that’s contemporary life; “you work to live,” but where is my own time?
The elites might know, I mean I toil for them everyday. They should know something, right?
Where am I in this ‘scatta’ ‘scatta’ mess?
Have you seen me lately?
I think I’m lost, missing in action
So is my voice lost in this strictly commercialized noise?
Oh well there it goes again, echoing away my soul
I can’t hear it, even if I lean further, it has gone too far, or am I too far away?
After all this motion and more motion
Where am I?
Where is my voice?
I think I might have to shout much more louder to get it back. Reach for the stars, they say!
Primary Times
The clock strikes
The girls bite
Pinch and tease
Leaving their trademarks
Drama queens
In need of attention
Like always, I run
I run past them
Girls that bite
Some I dance with
A few I touch
The ring of the bell,
Then, it’s all over again
The Curse of the Hedgehog
After he had got bitten to death by the once seemingly sane hedge-hog, the yellow squirrel returned from the underworld only to receive an interesting call.
“Hello, my name is Mr. Hedge-hog. I am calling on behalf of Zerrazen. Am I speaking to Mr. Yellow Squirrel?”
“Yes you are,” replied Mr. Yellow Squirrel.
“Well sir, I am contacting you in regards to a past due balance on your account.”
“Yes, I know, but I could not pay my bills on time because at that time I was M.I.A.”
“Oh yes sir, it says on your bill, that you are currently in transition to becoming a fully fledged zombie, and we at Zerrazen take that seriously.”
“Well, if you or Zerrazen really understood my situation, you all should also know that getting a job in my current state is practically impossible. I mean everyone keeps running away from me, it’s like I’m cursed.”
“Well sir, you are a zombie in transition, I mean you’re practically not alive.”
“Do you think I don’t know that? I am freaking dead walking yellow squirrel.”
“I understand your situation Sir, if I was bitten by a zombie Hedge-hog, I too would be fuming.”
“Argh argh argh argh argh rah argh rah rah awrrrrrrr rahhhhhhhhhhh”
“Sir, are you there?”
“Arghhh rah argh rah arghhh rah rah rah awrrrr rahhhhhh”
“Sir, oh my, what a pity, there goes another Zerrazen customer. He didn’t even get to pay his past due bill.”
The hedge-hog quietly dropped the phone and sighed. “Typical of a yellow squirrel”
Kaleidoscopic Dreams
If you may, allow me to let you in on a little secret. Where may I begin? Right here, I guess. You see, I have these several, several dreams, many of which I almost never seem to wake up from. In between these episodes, I reach far deep into where I want to be in life. And, every time I try to wake up into my dream, the path becomes nothing more than a scene of an empty room stinking with the smell of vintage books. Sometimes, I try to trick the Queen in my dreams, but her knowledge knows no bound. She told me to break, to break, I must amend, and to amend, I must seek the red bird.
So I tell her “Where do I find this bird?”
“In freedom,” she said, “A place lacking mannered discontent.”
So back there, I went.
Back here, there is nothing, but the empty smiles I receive; faces loosely cringed and plastered together with false hope. Yet again, I am filled with great disappointment.
“These faces have no answers!” I shout.
Faces after faces, I tear away and amend the missing scraps, hoping to find that one bird. The days go brighter and longer; refusing to give into the darker times.
Like a perfect time, I fall right into the sands of time. With rain falling, and the moon shining, I found her. The red bird looking down on me welcomed me with a tune. To my utter astonishment the red bird cried these words to me.
“You fool! All you needed was to fall. All along, I waited by the Iroko tree, night after night.”
After all had been resolved, I and the red bird fly back there without much haste. In my state of equanimity, I quietly hoped I had found my cure because, I badly wanted rid myself of melancholy.
So back there, we went.
Back there, where leeway was abundant, and the bird played her tune with much ease.
Deeply Played
The game of rags and black water
Higher and much lower they go
Always seeking the tops of this and that
Flapping their dirt to those who dare to look
Always holding on onto vane vanity
Don’t we all?
They fear the fear of death
The truth keeps on missing its mark
Idolized Decadence
Paths full with shattered dreams
A requiem for the elected rich
Misery for the mass
A new day, we must seek
A new day, we must pray
A new day, I must write
Sour Orange
I still wonder why you like the room lit so dim. I can hardly see you when you cry. If you let go of my grip, the scene of misery will last on forever. Hold on tighter. Drag my rags closer to your shattered chest. Pierce deep into my skin; pain always tasted so bittersweet. Our time lasted only till the sound of the bird.
A mockingbird, indeed
Too soon enough to begin, I guess?
With my taste buds gone sour, I shut off those twisted tunes and threw them deep into the skies; far away, where those spacemen could only dream of. A secret place you might know of. I never ever forgot about those long delusional days filled with gifted silence and much red.
Will I ever taste sweet again?
Too much sourness
Stop this or I might bleed out
Drowning in my own feelings
Looking up at the river-like sky
Oh great blue monster, cry down your own worries
So that I may drink and sink.
So they say you speak no more of me. I strived hard to wait for another word from your big egotistical book. I hoped to dream into the realization that it was never ever to begin.
Bombs I left untouched
Scattered there and here
Some by your place
Falling down
Your hair ever so bright
So they say you speak no more of me.
I strived and strived to begin at the beginning.
Always seeking, and never asking
So they say you speak no more of me
I say you talk shit
