Tag: Expects

Gone prodigal again

Leave a comment

_I did it again!_
Left my place of rest in search of fading bliss
I called ‘inheritance’ what was mere gifts
Dropped my daily routine to unwind with wild parties
Past achievements that have become ashes
I knew I was out of power but the fan’s still turning in my direction and it felt cool
I knew my embers were getting cold but I couldn’t resist the urge to dance without recharging and see what it felt like
I knew my  light was getting dimmer but I claimed I was shining in the darkness
Away from my Source
Away from who made me son
Away from my true inheritance
Away from my natural habitat

_I did it again!_
How can I face Father this time with shoes on?
How can I expect his forgiveness after the limit for a day?
How can I tell him his robe got torn?
How can I tell him the reason I am back was the memory of the tasty beef in my mouth?
That I want to be welcomed again?
That He was right and I lived wrong again?
How can I tell him I did it again?

Hannah DGinus
©2024

Goodbyes

Leave a comment

It’s hard to say goodbyes
Always feels like a lump
Too big to swallow
Too hot on the tongue
Too sticky to spit out

Does Life play a trick on us
When it shows us love
When it watches us love
Then expects us to say goodbyes
Starting what it won’t finish
Because life never really ends

Here the comfort lies
When the Truth speaks
Pulling pictures to remembrance
All tagged with love and laughter
‘we had a good time together
I hope to see you again someday’

Pearly Thoughtz
(C)2022

Take My Hands Instead

Leave a comment

One pill…
Two pills…
Three pills…
And another…take my hands.

Isn’t that a perfect metaphor for how you go bananas, dig your feet into those coloured clips, stain your teeth with the feel, stain your fill with the filth, and assume the other filths fade?

Isn’t that how it makes you feel? The peel? No?

Then talk to me.

I want to hear it…take my hands.

This time, get high on the drug of my attention, snort on my love and exhale passion, and if clasping my hands will help, take them, let the tension go.

At first I didn’t listen because I thought it wasn’t you speaking. Your liver called out to me, your lungs did too, your strained heart cried out to me, I heard a million tears fall from your triggered body.

I don’t know and I probably won’t understand you. But I know that nobody puts a gun at his throat and expects to survive.

Give me the gun, and take my hands.
Dear Amanda

Ice Nwa Ǹkwọ
D. Niel Quchi
© 2020