The day arrives when name is your flawed deference
Mother father chained me down against poor resistance Cultural rites manifests my primordial consistence Ignorance of both is a formula for a wasted existence Only when ceded to this name are you released by persistence? A name but a statistic of a criminal offence on a child’s response to an intolerant resistance Systematically herded like sheep to a point of insistence
I am a poet through and through and anyone that tells you different you must deny it and slap them across the face very roughly indeed. I love the normal things in life and turning them into mysterious meaningful emotionally attached fascinating object or subjects.
A philosophical question for anyone who has an idea. Imagine my hands are a set of scales. In my right hand I hold this crazy little thing called love. You can choose anything you want to place in my left
Mystery within my seizure: Who are you? Who are you? Why are you leaving? Where are you going? I uttered these words during a seizure. Imagining you puts my mind under pressure. Searching for your identity is like a hunt
The pulse seems tranquil and still, But they don’t have blood in it filled. Strange, the brain is at bark within. Why this uneasiness seems like an attaching shark? I do sit and endeavour to settle it down, But for
In three forms Two thirds; Still, Not to drink a drop, or two pots for bath. One-third in Coco cola bottle, One-third is in the Cleavage water, Then, we are throwing stones at the well, Waiting for the crow bath;
A sleepless night exploring an expectation My mind eye playing the reel Anxiety clicking with time My self – doubt will maybe? The inner voice begins to play The same old Sun awakes a new day This is I the