Thursday, April 12, 2018

A Woman's March in April

Dark space,
Bend, contort,
The 30 plus joke,
The fawning, the fearing,
The faking of confidence,
The, I am waiting,
Waiting to petted
Waiting to be cooed
Waiting to be cuddled
Waiting to hear....
to feel.
I think i know what its like...
To be the others,
They are all you.

and me?
I fight the war,
I fight the selfish war,
The 'i am here' war,
The  'don't you see' me war,
I dance that fawning dance,
I dance that acceptance dance.

I hurt, i bend, i contort,
I fake the confidence.

You can keep the faces though!
Keep the blood that runs thick,
Keep that name!
Its hard to wear,
I am too round,
...its hard to keep on
Too bold.
My eyes have seen things,
...stretched out my mind but i am just!
Too wide!
i can't fit!
You can keep the face,
I don't need it.

We are all planted in the womb,
We have no choice,
Sprouting from matter so dark,
Spiralling, loose and out!
Most covered in holy glitter,
Some, gutter proof,
and a few mistakes,
So they say...

Thank god!
We have no choice.
I am,
I?  I choose me,
Me with the lacking,
Me the unwanted,
Me the loner,
Me with an associated face,
Blood coursing,
The beating i take,
Your glares, scowls and howls
Picking and choosing,

No, i don't fit!
I spit,
I spit!
I spit again,
...... wipe it off
cover it up with words
..... It feels like peace

13th April 2018

Saturday, October 10, 2015


Set myself on fire 
Let the synthetic melt 
The acrylic burn 
And all this fat sizzle 

Set myself on fire 
Cause you are a fool
Set this voluptuous thigh ablaze
You see this fuel 
You see it get lit
I will use your shirt too
And the underwear I bought you

Burn all this down 
Cause you got me feeling unworthy 
Unworthy I roll it over 
No, me, unworthy?
That doesn't sound right 

Look at these lips 
They set you on fire 
Burning and shaking 
Or is it quivering 
To the pleasure of my pulses 
Set you on fire 
Burn you
Cause you a fool 
I am worthy
I March 
I am worthy 
Set you on fire 
Let the flames lap up your memory 
Cause mentally charred dead 
I will be at peace 
And above it all
Beyond the sin

Wednesday, September 30, 2015

Eternally Missed "To Owen Kulemeka"

If only I had more to say and less to feel. If only this wasn't something hard to get over, if only it wasn't sad and painful
If only it was the easiest thing to do, to pick up and continue, if only in losing, we could forget but we don't. We long more 
For more long conversations, 
Honest debates about trap music 
The new world order, 
We miss more, 
We wish for more, more time, more smiles, a lasting essence, a link, a knowing and not this helplessness. If only one last talk would do
If only that is all we needed. I will miss you Owen, as you fly with the angels, don't forget to look back and smile, don't forget to check on me
Rest in Eternal peace Owen 


A shallow mind and a deep heart can not co-exist 
He rides off lip service 
She toils in dreams of some sort of future
Serpent long and vile 
He coils her in 
Licks her weak 
In disregard of her 
He believes his lust for her is enough 


The land of Horses

I wasn't raised in a land of horses,
No, where I am from 
They did not have the lush for it,
Where I am from 
They did not have the stables 
Not shoes 

I did not grow up looking at mare's 
Nor their fawns not stud's 
No, where I'm from
They do not 
Where I am from 
That is a dream 

A dream watched on my master's television 
As my father cooked his food 
Big eyes and thrilled 
Weary of the car horn 
And accents I hoped to have 
Hoped that the private school he paid for 
Would give, hope

I didn't grow up in a land of plenty 
No, where I am from 
They didn't have savannah's nor waterfalls 
We did not have hundreds of cattle 
Nor did we mine for diamonds 
My father, for all his worth
Sold me ideas and objectivity 
As he fawned at the delicious injustice 
His salary, he fawned 
The white man he would say 
They know where it's at
Shining the glistening Peugeot 
A super class vehicle made from far off revolutions 
I did not understand 

No, where I am from 
Hair was that on my head 
Theirs was theirs!
No, no additions, no extensions 
My father would growl 
Bemused, I knew he knew nothing of beauty 
Hair cuts and plainness 
He would demand
Plain, I was

In awe, I would sit in an expanse,
The wide screen in that living room 
Gored by its luxury 
Telling me stories of places 
Too far to be true 
Of tea cups and sandwiches 
Of big hats and charming gentlemen 
Men with white accents 
Clean men with clean nails 
Soft hands with delicate ways 
Not like my father 
I would wander in those long corridors 
Silently praying for fortune 
To lay me waste 

But I was born in the land of asses
The work horse of the bunch 
Asses, where the birth right was third in line 
Asses, where we entertain,
Full of teeth, big breasts and hearty laughs 
Where home brewed beer pours 
And young men's dreams 
Flood the drains of petrol stations 
They have no where else to go 

A place where strife trends 
People compare worries as a fashion 
Money floats 
And my masters generous education 
I can not find work!

Discredited by my ass folk, my kin 
For my ovaries do not deliver 
Nor does my certificate catch the man 
Nor does the man want the education 

He spills his seed mind less 
He refuses to reap all his done 
Blames the system for his failings 
As he expects to be called King 

Where I am from, we do not gallop 
We walk strides 
We are hurled from country to country 
Exist in lasting gap years 
Wiping bottoms 
Crown ourselves with superficial pride 
Here the tool is different 
I am different 

I am not my father's daughter 
Nor the tear of my mother's rib 
I am an ass, the beautiful ass with big eyes
Slouched by the border 
Silently waiting for the shout 
The whip, a way to go 
or do I just follow? 


Sylvie.... A toast to friends

When you swim in a sea of nervous systems, a polarity of personalities, unbalanced decisions, emotional throes, and hidden motives. When they tell you left is right to console your foe, they call a friend and it's no different. In distrust we trust, yet so covetous to that which is trifle, funny how labels change things. When light switches flip, just as they do, a questioned psyche, so lost in their act that you can not believe in your own. Own?! Yes, you are your own! Deflections made by others reflections, mirror what is not in you, their flaws are not yours..... Thank God for God. In You we trust!

Wednesday, August 26, 2015

Obrigado por ser meu amor

When you love a fool
Summer finds you sleeping in winter
So tied up in slumber 
The universe swiftly shifts
The ropes break 
And the heat burns 
Down into your limbs
Rubbery you become 
Glued to the bed by 
Trails of salty yelps
Quietly missing the fool
As he prances around 
Multicolored as a strobe light 
Thrusting before yours eyes
His eyes jiggle and his tongue rolls 
Another behind he throbs
While the foolish lie
Deluded by whispers
On lines no one can witness
When you love a fool
You turn to ash
As he rises 

A Woman's March in April

Dark space, Bend, contort, The 30 plus joke, The fawning, the fearing, The faking of confidence, The, I am waiting, Waiting to petted...