SIMPLE WORLD

In plain sight

Can I tell you my fears?

As the rivers comes once again

While I have time to write

The darkness, my friend

Will you listen to me?

While you eat me alive

Do you know these things that rid me of love

Like a virus, I am dead to life

My soul trapped within my mind

a book closed hidden from the public

afraid to die alone

afraid to love another

lacking the courage to love myself

lend a helping hand to soul

my spirit stagnant in this never moving flow

and only thing I want to do

is just bathe in water

rinse this fire away

clean these tears

bury these burdened memories

yet everyday I wake up to hell

after sleeping in purgatory

the grind, the burn continues

Duality

Fighting the evil within me

I see the devil in my actions

An angel’s wings torn apart by ghouls

Walking round trip in this hell

This world, this rough plains

My vision of heaven perturbed

Always disturbed,

I am drenched in lust

Oozing malice without regret

Forget all the white glory

My eye has been blurry with red wine

The water long gone

Forgot the party never stopped

A never ending celebration

Sinners coming together on Sunday

In church, demons wearing gold

Woke up cos I slept through death

Baptized yet I arose in Babylon’s grip

The angels sing my name

I hear them

Far away somewhere, where my innocence escaped to

Beyond clouds, black and blue

Skin, eyes, color, taste

Blood, lineage, memories

Stars mixed with orbital sacrifices

Yes, I fight

Then I win

In my mind first

Then, third, my sight

Chorus, victorious revving

White fleeced sheep in a rotten herd

Stained but cleaned

Rinsed by salvation

Dusted away clouts from lungs

Green breeze,

Morning dew, healing

One that bridges

man and the spirit world

the sun, some call him

Drinking more water

Washed away the wine taste

Now I seek comfort

within the scriptures of flawless history

Survival comprised in red letters

In bold, Yeshua

White Nazarene, black glory

Dark Muhammed, golden cotton

Her, him

Don’t matter

Because in faith

I am restored

Yes Lawd!

The versatility of the black man

From labour to creation

No inbetweeners

We ride the seas

and

calm the dust

……..as in

This land destroyed me

Like seed, harvested

Yet my soul breathes

the only soil left within me

…..selling false hope for lavender dreams

I summoned to be free of darkness

Only to find the world had burnt to the ground

Nothing left to grasp

Ashes and white glistening bones

Black rivers and religion

Pressed down shaken

My heart remain unmoved

In this false reality

Created by another man just like me

Forsaking deities only for clay

My soul reaches for the potter

Every time I need water

for my skin,

Brown sand on blue hue

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

Wonderful plays, it seems. Slowly the tides shifts gears, with the pedal revved, the acquired sense of direction attains a new set of waves. Like a pair of new shoes, the delusion of enchantment smells too sweet at first. Only when you see the decays of the sole then, and only then you can boldly say “thou feet are worn out.”

The louder it gets, the smoother the lullabies get. The high pitched voice from the folk-place is always under the buses. Must water fall from the sky? When the land bears bountiful fruit. In the need for cheeks and checks, the kiss smears longer till the bite on the neck becomes apparent.

A striking resemblance you see on the wide world screen. It gets madder by each channel or Chanel. It grows wilder by the sound of the speaker; less reality, more distortion. The fetish of the street-grain-rodeo brings the compendium of highlighted thirst to a new low.

The steps of the queen drags a little too long. The stare she receives adds a year or two to the tale of the Sheeba and a mere man. So strong, yet her kiss settles easily on mouth. The want breaks loose setting another yearn for lust. Such and such, the silk dissipates and all that was hidden bears front in the room of embrace. The pain hints at a later time, but the Queen continues to hold her spell. The mirror says all, she reigns supreme. At day, her face. In night her cries.

Another maybe. Pass away smiles; dreaming on till laughter from the face of the passer-by rings into mind. The workout to bring sane goes south and sends messages to the unknown up north.