SIMPLE WORLD

Far Apart, Though Sunday

The things we have stretched
The hugs we wrongly refused
Hate bound
Landed smile
Empty vessel
it ain’t right, he said
Playing the game of circles
Biting hard only to recieve water
The thirst for red
A roundabout of situations
The effects of mankind
Right on the ledge
A broken society about to break
Another demise
So far, so good
Bad for throat
Thick lump for soul
Vocal lullabies of a written cycle

LOVE LOST

And I can redefine all that I thought was lost
Another chance, another try
Transcending all my sins
I rise through the stairs of suffering
Regaining my boldness
Proud with a painted black luxury
Another made anew man full with discontent
Paralyzed by the recurring deceit
The tortured souls all cry
Why them?
Lord of the skies, why us?
Come down and stop this crucifixion
We long to move past this boulder stained with death

Scripted cripple
Hungry for white manna and black bread
Rivers always parting
All skin and milk
Falling Jericho
Singing Mary
Crying baby
A never ending tale of delusion

IceMan

A man asked me to help him stop smoking cigars
I told him to eat a pack of rat a day
Two days of madness
Crazy Poseidon
Living Times, dying times
You got the princess in dresses
I leave them in messes

The People

The choir sings
Louder, the cries rings
Lonely folks, hopeful nemo
The strength of yoga
The living heard
By the stream
Flowing without the taste for high
The gift of water
Transparent, till its marred with hate
Soonest the day will be bright

Gold Gold

Is that all you cry for?
Well, I know of an incurable affection
Forged through your own fire
Shaped like your dreams
A precious gem
Mineral for your soul

Wadayo

Emblems of the water culture
Future, present in their hands
At heart, on ground
Bumping shoes, stirring heat
A will from the sun
Harmattan blessed
The set time of cleansing
The children of karma
Wishing rain was dew
A fresh, a new
A float, in pain
Root in faith
March and talk
The catch of fire
The cream to tea
The gift of birth
The seed of growth
A child of joy

A Pit Bull Morning

Plastered with a rough beard and a scruffy look; the man probably in his late fifties gently held the lease on Ritta’s neck. With delight Ritta opened her mouth wide open happily receiving the sky’s cozy warmth. She had a brown and white fur, and her eyes carelessly moved from one unknown object to the other. Those large bright eyes of hers said it all. She was in good place and the love she had for her owner flowed effortlessly. Mr. fifties, as I often called him was not the picture-perfect owner, nor was he clean or well-kept. He had a faint odor which smelt like a hot afternoon carried deep away from the south. Unlike her owner, Ritta did not have any distinctive odor, in fact she smelt surprisingly better than Mr. fifties. Her toe-nails were well-groomed and her fur was silk-like smooth.
“I don’t know where my sister got Ritta from, but I love this dog, man,” Mr. fifties said. After which, he and Ritta began their walk back to whence they had come from.

Early in the morning with the sun still nowhere to be found, Ritta and her owner strolled down the quiet empty road while the cars refused the light of day and the birds talked about nectar and berries.