And I

Your eyes
Tell you what I used to look like

I’d stare
Look away because the world was there

Your ears
Tell you there’s a longing no one bears
No one but you
And I.

You mean
More to me than time can reveal

You are
Like this sea of wonders
And I
Can’t get over you.

Your lips
Purse with currency no bank keeps

Your heart
Was not mine to steal from the start
So take your heart
And I.

You see
Deeper in me than I can feel

And tomorrow better be better
And tomorrow better be better
And tomorrow better be better
I don’t want to live in
A past that never happened

You are
Beautiful
And I
Can’t get over you

The Niel
© 2019

Advertisements

Evolve

Man.
Lord of the earth, unknowing.
Born Heroes; living victims.
Black Panthers scared shitless.
Superintendents gone puny.
Sad.

Man.
So primitive. So common. Like dirt.
As is the sunrise.
Aye, it doesn’t make him, nor the sunrise,
Any less a miracle; any less a beauty.
But then…

Man.
“Ye are Gods,” I heard Him say.
Creators, made He you.
But it’s sad.
You only live as pawns on a chessboard.
And you die like mere scum of the earth.
Who knew the hashtag was truth, after all.
Men are scum, indeed.

Man.
Oh, man.
Pity! PITY!
I mean, you share a last name with Deity!
With Yahweh Himself!
Oh, that you knew thyself!
And, that, to thy sweet self, you be true.

Man.
Do not your dreams whisper to you
The destiny of your race?
Do not your superheroes, your folklores, your movies
Point towards mastery?
And power?
And love?

Man.
Does not your genius, your spirit
Nudge you ever so silently
To rule from the top of the rainbow?
To conquer the sky you’ve agreed is your limit?

Who has deceived you?
Oh, man!
“Evolve, man!
Evolve!”
Eternity screams.
Immortality beckons.

But no. You’ll read this poem, this call,
And just move on.
Sadly.
Oh!
Man!

Nonso John
© 2019

Why do I fear the stars – Part 2

They do not wear a dress of courage
Nor a garb of thorns
My shiny mysterious sisters of the night, lighting the skies.

They do not need to be reminded, they do not forget.
Holding a billion promises, secret kisses, and passionate pleas.
They are witnesses, even when bones be ash.

Did you know you can bet on stars?
That you’ll never lose a bet on their suicide?
And agree or not
You must agree to disagree,
Their terrorism is a necessity.

I mean,
Suicide bombers are looked on with a mix of contempt and awe,
We see lives cut short in their prime,
By the most suffering is ever known to mankind.

We are shaken by the workings of a twisted mind,
And in retrospect
We all must agree
There is something to respect,
In a blood sacrifice for a belief.

Yet I digress.

This is about the stars and why I fear them.

They do not wear a dress of courage
Nor a garb of thorns

There is no self-preservation in their answer to duty’s call
They are courage in the flesh.

They do not need to be reminded, they do not forget.
That they matter and their sacrifice counts.
I mean,
Who motivates the stars to shine?

And did you know stars must burn to shine?
That they die with each burning?

Yet night after night without fail,
My shiny mysterious sisters of the night,
Circle the expanse of the clouds,
in a dance to the death.

This is why I fear the stars.

St. Davique
© 2019

THE MOST BEAUTIFUL GIRL – Part 1

The most beautiful girl my experience taught smiled at me today
It has been a long class and I thought I was following till that smile
I have myriads of questions but I fear my mates might have a comic relief
So I try moving my shivering lips apart in an attempt to smile back
My grades are average so why the warmth in her smile?
My grades are average so I must be missing something a brighter student can point out
Soon after class, a tap on my shoulder, and I turn to see a pair of joy-flooded eyes
I can’t hold her gaze, my legs are trembling and I have a sudden urge to pee
I sit down, clamp my legs together with my hands between them
She seem to notice my discomfort so she pulls out my hand and holds
“What have I got myself into”, I think
Without mincing words she tells me she likes me and would want a friend in me
On the 3rd attempt at trying to talk and not recognizing my voice
I clear my throat and all I can mutter is ‘okay’
I could change classes and routes and never see her again but she has other ideas
She walks me home, my palm in hers
With each laughter and chatter, I feel at home
She tells tales too beautiful to be true about herself;
Describes her thoughts of me in ways my exposure has not afforded my imagination
I unpack boxes I leave packed because I was always on the move
Now I am home

ChyD
© 2019

I have chosen to be me

I AM TIRED OF TRYING TO PLEASE THOSE I CAN NEVER PLEASE
I AM TIRED OF BEING THE FALSE ME
OH YES! HATE ME IF YOU WANT
I CAN’T BE WHO I AM NOT

I AM TIRED OF MIMICKING PEOPLE
LET ME BE!
OH YES! I MIGHT NOT BE MEEK
THAT IS YOUR PROBLEM NOT MINE
I AM TIRED OF THIS FALSE ATTITUDE
I AM TIRED OF THIS ME TRYING TO PLEASE YOU

I WANT LIVE MY OWN LIFE
I MIGHT NOT BE PERFECT
I MIGHT NOT BE THE BEST
HOWEVER, I AM ME, THE ONLY ME
THE SPECIAL ME
THE ME WITH MANY FLAWS
SO I DON’T CARE WHAT YOU THINK ABOUT ME, THAT’S THE ME I HAVE CHOSEN TO BE
I HAVE CHOSEN TO BE ME

ADETHATWRITES

©2019