Life, oh life… what makes human better species? I have no answers to that question. All I know is that we unique compared to other warm and cold-blooded animals. We can invent all sorts of gargets. A case in point is the inroads we have achieved on technology, science and research. Unfortunately I cannot count myself as one of the shinning stars contributing to make this world a better place. The body of words I am going to shape is aptly titled “may the truth be told.” If I had it my way, I would open my heart for all to read my arteries. To this day I don’t know how big is my heart. And what material is it made of? Can it carry me through the rough edges? That way, the world can just about read my blood circulation. Probably I wont be paralysed and remain soulless. I have for years thought I am courteous, considerate and colourful. I have been to the ebb. When my eyes are full of tears I cry alone. Like a vagabond it becomes hard to hold on. My sight becomes blurred. I will ask – why these tears? Pain will tore my vein. Part of me that enjoy dancing cry with hopelessness. I see through my eye dew on my court melting. The whispers of a dulcet voice play a discord. My environment becomes an uninviting garden. The avalanche of goodness I have tasted evaporates on my palm. My pores crack at the sight of dust filled of words. Quiver, wraps my body. Columns of cold clouds spray my body with uncertainty. All gained accolades become soiled. Scream from my conscience tastes bitterly. The journey becomes unbearable. Ballads bewitching melody like shifting sands. My brain resuscitates the splendour. Yet a smoke fills pillars of my castle. Man alone cannot tell his story. The plot sometimes goes askew. Characters assassinate the angel of peace. It becomes messy. You never know who is sacrificed. You never know for what reasons! Life goes on. Tears drips down ones cheeks like cascading poisoned wells. The body fails to do its function. Brain oscillates and takes you to seclude places. The doors of a church you once knelt at ooze with cold air. Heat of heart: hurt hopelessly. Winning words: wide agape like a wild ocean that goes on and on. Where you are never appreciated, its dog eats dog world. Realm of life, where am I? I toss: tremble: tearfully thinking what has become of me! The answer I smell burning somewhere in the corridors. Broken bodies’ supper to witches. I listen to my footsteps fading dying in the wilderness. Is this the way to spent ones life? Where is the music? What happened to the smell of fresh flowers? Fits of uncertainty fill my terrain like thorns. Where to from now? What direction to take? Twitching of fingers continue. The berries will be there tomorrow morning. Will I survive the brain drenching weather? When June’ cold spell consume my life. I wish I could hang on there. The distance I have covered. The songs I have listened to. The road I have traversed. The hour I have spent. The word I have spoken. The hugs: The kisses: Resonate from toe to the tip of my head. Let the truth be told: this is a playing field of joy and pain. Pain is not meant to be enjoyable. Joy on the one hand is a therapy not to be abused. Hate is a health hazard. Taking people on a wide goose is no delicacy. Where I fail, is to balance joy and pain. Where I am not fervent, is to prove I am no cheat. Where I flounder, is to admit I have to swallow pain to heal myself. My prayer is to be appreciated even at the last hour. If I am destine for the pit. Let it be known that I was once a person. My prayer is see a better me. As my tears fill my trouble world. May I not drown all those who gave me the reason to live. May laughter, love and living spirit blossom. For children to enjoy lives’ wonderful journey. May I touch every soul who has cruised with me and massage them with olive oils of strawberries. It evokes memories, of haze humour: hear hazel:
Time 00: 24 AM (Tuesday morning) I must go and sleep now. My legs are cold.
Take me back
No matter how many times; I try in my quest to count pores encased in your regally body. To all intent and purposes, this task on its own is as arduous as counting the rain droplets in the aftermath of a thunderous storms.
No matter how many times I convince myself, I should be the one to know the immensity of your tears. Each time you shed them, whether in sorrow or seventh heaven. I still remain the one who doesn’t know how to decipher the direction they take. I cannot for the life of me, tell if they drip vertically; horizontally or other ways.
Rule number one: NEVER, EVER DRANK FROM THE MILK OF KINDNESS and effectively forget to count your blessings, for the pulse of its teat may be a honeyed source of everlasting bliss.
Each time, I bid you a goodbyes, I start to develop knots of light heartened ness feelings and wish I could mobilize for a coup d'état, so we could be together again. I wish I had the liberty of familiarizing myself with the silver pores embedded in you durable, yet soft torso.
To this day I still play this one episode, of you, fighting it out on the romantic ring with me. The tug of words drew bloody brainy waves of monumental proportions.
The live wired love words gave both of us a draw. The bruises were worth it. I was crowned with six silver wire bangles. A statute that calls one to take ones places amongst the champions. Like an over exuberant newly crowned, I became thick-headed.
I synchronized my wealth and wasted it in the altar of self-gratification. Rainy days came, the prize was implausible. As is the case with wealth, the crown gathered dust.
I smelt the scent of your sweet body odour calling on me “take me back” the cabinet where the tiara was placed spotted huge chunks of cracks.
Just then the rain played a tune “take me back” like moving floods of torrential rains oozing from your pores. I cascade from atop the mountains, whiz and shrivel my way, like blood does to the arteries and to your heart of heart.
The riverbed of my nerve centre never gave it to me again. Your ever-beguiling tears gave it to me. If you take me back with your arms outstretched like yesteryear. The number of pores in your body may not be a feast for scientists only.
The number of tears you shed in both the winters and summers in both joy and pain, may not be juxtapose with love.
In looking @ your eyes I see the crystal balls of our future
In looking @ you I see a world of beaming with hope
Let our yesterday be a chapter of our closeness
Let us bask in the knowledge that we one
The story of our life
For all that’s me and you, is life itself
Pebble of everlasting joy
The playing field of laughter and accomplishment
Both of us are ornament of happiness
Human species of pensive character
A lesson of universal charity
Stars of pregnant skies
Waiting to exhale romantic scents
If this beam be a catwalk
We answer to spiritual fulfilments
Our embrace like a virgin soil of tolerance
We are an air of warmth
The sun takes its cue from us
Our hearts is a story of blissfulness
If our pathway were a highway
In looking @ your eyes
I see grains of crystal balls
Mothering a colossal goddess
An unique treasure
Ooh… my earthy species
Of inconceivable kindness
Vessel of epic blessings
Almighty angel of grace
Merciful heart of hearts
In looking @ your face
I feel the pulsating cradle of beauty
The enthralling bowel of love
Holiness treasure of abundance
Given to honour humanity
Restore their dignity
And give meaning to life
In looking @ your body
I see a meandering pebble
A holistic body of ecstasy
Piety of righteousness
Warmth and loving care
A vivacious soul of calmness
A heaven of everlasting joy
In looking @ your soul
I see a foundation of paradise
An illuminating beacon of life
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