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Saturday, 6 June 2015

Washing Lines

This is when I put everything on the line
And I pray it dries out just so
I can get something good to wear.

Memories eating away at the heart
Like a flesh eating bug
With no hold back on feast

Sponge foam, heavy like a good heart
Absorbing all the tears of pain
That rains from sorrow and joy
Reminiscing on long old memories had

Beautiful roses blossom
So bright from spring to summer
Weathering away, each petals
At a time dropping like rain drops in fall

Guide the last of the candle light
For when it is gone, it is gone for good
Becoming a ghost on replay fading
And no add ons to have

My feet has taken many steps
Into many lives and back
I have spread my self thin
Leaving behind a piece of me
In each door way I walked through

Some familiar names delude me
Though I am left with events
That they were a part of
Half memories on flash back

On blurred roads
We travelled many a times
As routine roots taken
Watching the sunset

I do try but these names
Have long faded in my memory
Empty they remain
Gaps in between stories

It is a good thing,
Smiles are not like names
They keep me sane with memories
Even through the heavy heart days

I wonder how many
Remember me by name
I wish they would be the same ones
I do remember too

For without that
What value in essence
Is in the memories we hold
So dear as treasures

Remember me
In all the four seasons
Especially in winter and fall
The coldest of the night

And I promise I will try
Very hard, my very best
To remember you too
That I promise an oath I swear

And sometimes it hits me hard
A father I am indeed a father I am
A role I played with all my heart
And all my love, still with all my love

An unended sentence with .............
Space left in its way
I am desperate to tell the youth
To slow down, age caches up so quick

I pray I do better in patience
With love this time,
All these lessons must account
For something in the end.

And not just pain
Hanged on washing lines
Praying it dries out just so
I can get something good to wear

#love #art #poetry 

Monday, 18 May 2015

The Three Sons Of Abraham

There is an old family feud, the oldest of all family feuds that matters to this magnitude and the most 
damaging because of the validity placed on its essence by rival sides.

Abraham (Ibrahim) is recognized as the father of the Jews, Christianity, as well as Islam since it is believed that Mohammed is a descendant of Ibrahim (Abraham). 
The three branches of the same tree, with its many sub branches.

It is sad to say that many have lost their lives on soft differences, never fundamental in justifying the relevance and truthfulness of one of the three branches against the other.

But not being the root or stem means, none of the three branches can claim to be the true religion.
The fact is their differences are all based on cultural norms than religious essence.

Relevance in all this is spirituality which in it self as the root sees religion as a mere path amongst paths
"the way a group of people worship" Lets not forget of Animist, Buddhism and all other religions.

Saddly though it is the tree branches (sons) from the same house of Abraham that holds to ransom death as a consequence for being a descendant
of a sibling in difference of belief #religion #life #philosophy  #culture

Wednesday, 13 May 2015

No Good Deed

Why do you have a smile
So loud, so so loud, so loud

Don't you know it is frowned upon
Unless you are in on the game too

No eye contacts, no sight to see
And starring will get you locked on violation

The eyes don't lie, so boring it is
The eyes can't lie, high on a truth pill

Fingers on the buzzer
Three strikes and you are out

Easy comes easy goes
The shadows whisper with voices

They come awake on the moonless night
Sounding so familair with haunt

Tinkering like tinkerbell
Itching a scratch on the brain

The clown is placed on a freak show
His eyes are made of horror

Save the last dance
There is blood on the dance floor

Roses with thorns
Like sharp knifes for back stab

Jesus Christ on a cross
A locket hanged on a thug's chain

No mercy is given so readily
In this ill gotten world

Every thing is at a price it pays to know
You will do well to know

They call it a dark country
A dark continent it is then

Where days never come, clock works
After the night's hour, remains an ungodly time

The sun out, no longer frightens
The cockroaches, bugs and rats to hide

Preachers only gifted with preview
A sight into the devils plans

On professes they give, pay per view
No remedy for redeemers grace

Unless its paid in full
With the devil's coin

For credit if wanted come tomorrow
On notices plastered all over the place

Just before the shop opens
Too late after the shop opens

Come tomorrow, just come tomorrow
Only know, tomorrow never comes today

No saints in a sinners crowd
No bond as brothers so strong to hold

Skeletons still fearing death
Long after the skin is rotten to the bone

Stack in death's box six feet under
Calling out on S.O.S

We are common people seemingly
Our shortfalls are all the same

Though some have become good at hiding
Their very soul from the wicker man

Fingers on the buzzer
Three strikes and you are out

Easy comes easy goes
The shadows are loud with voices

And this pace is making my head spin
Going round and round in circles like aaaah!

Friday, 1 May 2015

The Friendship Return Policy

There are some friends
That distance is only but 
A foot step away 

No matter how far or near 
They are, the love remains
 Solid as ever, never forgotten 

There are some friends
 A yard away, a foot away an inch away
 Turns you into a stranger 

And no sooner do you become an alien
Fading into ghostliness on passage 
Paths of time and distance travelled 

True friends do not fade 
Like a cheap cloth that shrinks
And wouldn't fit after just one wash

Looking for the receipt
To read about the return policy
 In the small print on store rejects

Which one are you
Sincerely don't fool yourself
Do you feel awkward when we meet

Wanting to hide as first instinct held
Too late you have been spotted, shame on you
Fighting so hard with your conscience

 #life #philosophy #culture #art

Monday, 27 April 2015

The Last Call

The pain is not in regretting  
On missed opportunities had 
No good crying over spilt milk 

The pain is in reminiscing 
On old memories we had 
A sunny day, a better day, a funny day

I see all the young faces getting older
Singles becoming doubles 
With plus 1 or 2 on the family tree 

It is like the last sip from the glass 
Staring long before taken, for prosperity 
Bottoms up, just to get up and walk on by

Life is a series of films
With you as the main actor, character
Always constant in the script you live by

Let tomorrow
Hold us in good standing
As today did in memories we have

We made it this far
Butterflies with wings
In against the gale force

See you when we get there
If we are lucky to, in this life time
The winds blow down south

If not, then in another to come
Be the stranger I walked up to
By the road side in passing

And with just a smile
We became instant friends
A connection as old as time

#life #love

Your face is a picture
Tattooed on my frontal lobe
Like a projected hieroglyphics inscribed

I see you each and everyday
Whenever I think of you
A replayed scene on repeat play

The pain is a  joy of memories we sit on lament
T' we get high on to hallucinate seeing stars
And time lords over all, nothing else matter 
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