Africa and the Curse of Religion

Listen to the sound

Coming from the back

All the way at the end

Singular, repeated

Growing, hovering

Pulsating through the shadows

Seeping back into my mind

Shapes and hexes

Demons and ghouls

Angels and jinns

All scrummaging this plain

Cut wings,

fallen through the cracks

down onto this vivid reality


one can never escape


I seek the truth


Every corner I turn

I fall victim

Drowned by the shrieking

Bullets stuck on black skin

Time refusing to move

Stretched out years

Compressed into parallels and seconds

Smiles from the shadow men

Shinning boots on red soil

stop me from going into the forest

Closed my eyes and

I find myself in the center of cathedrals

gods that don’t move my core

Full time job pretending my soul accepts

Time has moved

Frequencies hastened

Here I am

Chastened by old wrongs


Caught between a square

Green slime concoctions

Crosses and serpents

Faceless without my gods

12 seasons turned to one

Ancient spirits destroyed by another man’s summation

one leading nowhere

From the beginning

Only one sound I hear


In a land gifted with circles

Resurrection and rebirth

My soul only seeks redemption

Freedom in the deepest dark

That forest called evil by sailor tongues

There I must go

Returning, reverting

trace back

Foot prints on sand

Snails and cowries

My lane our lane

Paved in our own tongue

comes with rich tones and melodies

Reverberating throughout the land

Of the children under the sun and moon

Inside Our Love

Cake present, I received

I dipped first, hand full

Velvet taste, wine feeling

Plunge, a message full of liquid

Separation, a meal full

eaten to the point

her eyes completing the act

asking for continuation

Sing my language

letters and stars twisting

Following every interval with morning dew

All set, back and forth

The long trip we start

the end, many routes


We give our all to the one

Every angle, shadows never lurking

We share the good and bad

the rights, the after kiss

Warm from the brimstone

On and off

We continue our ride,

engage the initial gear

Of love and fever

When the temperature rises

We sing high

and jump in motion

never stalling

full on collision

Nobody else we can share


ourselves to the full


It really is the perfect thing. But your mind fights it relentlessly, it struggles to come with terms of what you have seen before. Our minds have been bathed with movies, ideals, fairy tales, preconceived hatred. So how can you accept what your soul longs for? when you have never listened to it. There is no picture of your soul anywhere in the world, even on those colossal billboards you pass by. A fact is a fact. It is there so people, normal people like me can dissect and try to make a meaning of it. But a soul is not a fact. I can’t say it’s something more, because I’ll only be contradicting myself (Maybe I already did). You can’t dissect or explain a soul. It’s abysmal in dark terms, and blissful in heavenly description. The concept of soul mates has been hacked and slacked into a meaningless sense of lust. How can our five senses be associated with soul when souls are neither smell nor sex? Beautiful, if you ask me. I mean the idea of having a soul locked into specific functions, when all our floating entity wants to do is move and flow with life.

Intermission; this rice will not consume itself, neither will this cherry Gatorade