From me to God: Dear God, good dayWhy do I feel like you slept last night?While I slept, as the manner of men is,did you also lay down to sleep?It’s […]
In less than a month, I will be releasing my fourth chapbook! Woot!
so, i push the play button turn on the volume & dance to a cacophony of naysayings & a symphony of motivators on repeat
Whenever I am presented with a painful experience, I take the time to think about how I can avoid it in the future. This poem outlines how I’m learning to be the me that makes me me.
& hope on yesterday’s blessings
to o’ercome the portal of time
bring in its wings healing
& fresh air for weary lungs
fake rainbow lines will i never
An archaeologist is the best husband any woman can have; the older she gets, the more interested he is in her.
sometimes, that feminine voice can just be all a man needs to find peace & joy & rest at the end of the day.
if youths, enter the following code
armoury:// their voice// offense:// spoke up//
solution:// harass, arresst, massacre, trigger tribal discord
water colour / cardboard paper
splash some colours / make still art dance surugede
To many lost to depression
and the majority that cast aspersions
Reflecting on the birth of Christ, the reason he came and what doom awaits whoever treats his love like a piece of rag, I prayed to not be found among them who refused the dawn he brought with him – salvation. May I be not among those who was opposed the glowing grace of the son of God.
as the holidays approach,
and we chorus noels in church
let us remember the reason
for this festive season
“does it tingle when it wiggles?”
that was the first words to escape my vocal department
when to the left and to the right
you sit by a river of flooding ideas
and watch your your thoughts run wild
If you had been where I have been in the strange land accursed,
And you had seen what I have seen,
You would not laugh at love.
Which tenure, believed, this martyr
the one, which seeks, the masses’ window and backdoor
entry, to die for?
i know boys
who are trying to fit in a bowl
of social norms like
new wine in a broken glass
We’ve seen you dance, we know of your wiles and the sweetness ab initio of your subtle sting.
Deep, a poem talks about the dept of being the same and changed and the dept of being what makes us decay.