FIRST STONE

Every left step, seven stones follow
I know love only in words
These feet of mine, cold and lonely
The only help is to descension
I look around and only fingers I see
Only pointing and judging never aiding
The pots are never slow to strike
With their idle and unholy stones
To climb the ladder they impede me
In my nose diving they will judge
My sin is not any of the 10th
Guilty of breaking the 11th am I
When finally my 11th glass is broken
They will pay my fare to face the judge  
They long to see the noose embrace my neck
See me return this oxygen to him
His verdict His verdict His verdict
My sentence is THE FIRST STONE
But who is there to cast it?
No! their broken glasses will not let them

DOUBLE EDGED TIDES

When joy is high the bank is broken
Beside the still bed it’s a rainstorm
In the heat, it comes to cool
Only company I find in the dark
Telling to me what the ears interprete not
Oh river, tide of compassion
It has understanding to my pain
So warm its hand of compassion
Its message f relief sinks my deep
But its crocodile version makes me a fool
It’s one with a face but many names
Double river edged river why this farce?
All it takes is to cry me river
The helping hand from where comes my hurt
Stealing my robe elsewhere covereth my nudity
The river that drowns my valley
In its face is real consolation
But only its depth holds the Truth
When words hide and compassions fail
It is the only shoulder at hand
It speaks the only language needed
Yet my doubt for it is great
Uncle Samson fell at its feet
Its waves harvested his locks
Oh river tides of compassion
It calms me amidst the flames
The best shoulder in my lowest pit
Yet its help I fear to trust
Because with its sauce came the Apple
Grand Pa ate to stumble
 I will roll a dice than accept it
Is it an Angel in black robes?
Or a demon in white apparels
Justice at first sight is evil to it
Reach the source for your gavel to be fair
On this tide of compassion

DON’T BLAME THE MIRROR

Don’t blame the Mirror
The reflection is not her fault
What is that which before her stands
Why blame the fairest of all Judges
And not the one before her
Her Gavel is a Saint, sinless till date
Don’t blame the Mirror
Garbage in, Garbage out
The garbage still in perfect order
The invisible twin only revealed
It’s only a Mirror, a simple reflector
Revealing to you that in you
Don’t blame the Mirror
She’s only a Truthful revealer
Holiest interpreter, fairest amongst all
Her Truth is yet unequalled
No mate to compete or equate
Black or White she changes not a strand
Mirror, Mirror on the wall
The simplest of all objects
In search of Truth, Peep into her
Her truth you cannot buy or bend
Accounts or status she respects not
She is your only true reflection

CRASH ON MY HELMET

At her cry they fall hard
Far from the ground, on my helmet
This inconsequential knock
So great, greater than a blow
Whipping my toil not the soil
The only block from my bread
Oh! Crash on my helmet
Why at this moment?

BEAUTIFUL BURDEN

My burden, Million Men adore

This gift, not of my making; came forth with it
But for this, Hawks Hover around me

Beauty is not what you think

HELP ME! HELP ME!! HELP ME!!!
For my face, my soul is in danger
I am prey for my gift, a beautiful burden it is
I love to flaunt but not to carry
Vultures are patient in my ally
Because gifted I am of the face
This gift is of weight many kilos
I have received Roses and Perfumes
And also prices for my Soul
On my rooftop the Hawks are bidding
Because I am that, called BEAUTIFUL
My face is exotic but my shoulder heavy
Oh how beautiful is my burden
I am a walking bull’s eye
Sake of this gift of my face
Thou hunters of my gift, this pasture ain’t yet ripe
Beauty is not a delicacy
Oh! Men just became deaf
Can’t they see and just adore
Must they always seek a bite?
My gift is beautiful and heavy
Yes, much more than a gift now a burden

ATONEMENT CHILD

It is their war
But I am the trigger made
After the scenes of their sins
Scene 2 is atonement, me to mop
Familiar with no blood but many riffles
Before I greet Mother Earth
A hand is upon me to transfer their sins
My cross is asleep in their sheets
Buried in thin air before I breathe
Lacking blemishes is my own sin
I’m no. 1 on their diet
The key to their riches and splendour
Nudity betrays me in my apparel
Purity makes me their perfect lamb
I lose my playground for some fields
I wail but the verses of mute tunes
I am encouraged only by the whips
The blanket is a fairy tale
LOVE has gone the way of my ancestors
The youngest messiah I am
To carry their cross is my lot
I came to live but for their crosses

BARREN PILGRIMAGE

Stepping into a new 365, blowing out candles
He gave of jubilation this breeze
A new day, a step closer to the bed

This chair by the corner, empty and cold
I cannot find the owner, the warmer
Age has returned burrowed oxygen
The air was cold and piercing
Ventilation ceased, new air was locked out
Pictures on the wall lie about the moment
Clothes too idle, caressing the wardrobe

Mouths were shut, words hid themselves
Rhythm of wailing played by lips
Defeated the radio’s pleasure
The deep bed has snatched again
Space too vast and heavy in emptiness
Too obvious minds could not ignore
His feet alas has found its bucket

Age did not fail in its predictions
Mortality once more given to slumber
Different feet multiply tears
As he is accorded full weeping ovation
Among mourners pouring their dam
This absence shocks the stick and bottle
Their companion is gone, now its loneliness

He is the twin of that fig tree
Truly green and of many leaves but his only sin is lacking a fruit
His diary is of blank pages
About him history has nothing to say
Oh! This chair would miss its owner
The stick and the bottle their dear pal

Cool thyself with this tears offering
In the down impossible of moist
Once upon a time…
His shadow escorted many
6 billion all around me
How can I remember that face?
Without the aid of a picture

FLOODED BASEMENT

In my secret corner far from others
Mimed I the tune of lamentations
My lips only new to wail
Me, a new brewery of bitterness

In my heart, the palace of fear
Life this awful song
Grating my sound drums
My botanical name changed to depression

Shielded all with banners of smiles
Bright face, over laden heart
Feared all trusting no one, not one
Yet always I smile

Crying behind those smiles
Dying in my dark basement
In my tuxedo I shine
In my basement I sink

Drowning in my tears and worry
My basement is hell’s annex
Yet the World’s envy I am
Thanks to my perfect veil

GIFT OF TWO WALLS

My corner, my palace; A personal quarters
Here, two is a crowd, the triangle of my hands
Accurate bearing for loneliness
This warmth soothe not two
The air here is private; My Diaspora in a corner
These walls I trust to tell it all
Answering with the voice of silence
Owner of my comfort
Lock out the crowd and leave me to thee

Chamber of my privacy
The edifice I so adore
This solitude I dearly treasure
Trap me in thy embrace

My freedom you hold tight
Of which I wish not to collect
In this dark I find my light
My corner, my palace

INNOCENT AS CHARGED

At the slumber of the Sun
The days too early for light
Escorted in by innocence and purity
His cries like honey to ears

At the command of the map
Irony ordered those new feet
Evaporation stole purpose to the sky
Preferred he clouds and smoke to dreams

Possessions is owned by mirage
His eye brow took to a bow
Responding to the darts on his back
The sixth feet his only trophy

… Harsh winds ate of his bones
Came to see the light, Darkness welcomed him
His candle, the circle of light banished
Diary of the begotten omitted his name

Justice was most fair, the Gavel most impartial
A litre for a pint, a dentition for a tooth
From the womb to the tomb
But Mercy said NO

Liberty bought him from his wages
The noose empty of his neck
Salivating to disappointment
From the sixth depth to the streets of Gold

This man is back to own the sceptre
All traps will stay barren, empty of a prey
Death shall starve in expectation
For is blood is not menu for dinner

NATIONAL ZOMBIE

You will fight him, He will fight you
Both, in the name of another’s score
Old Men’s score settled by young bloods
The real sense for which they fight
They have not the slightest idea
The sense in this I am in search of

Must there be Guns and Bombs
When dialogue could have sufficed
Or is it to someday study some History or Philosophy
Or discuss some Diplomatic strategy?
They order advance but far behind sits their ass
They order you to slaughter your brother and call it LOYALTY

You are paid to procure new citizens of the grave
And they call it National service
What is the glory and victory in your Occupation
Oh ye camouflage zombie
When the call of duty you heed
Some fellows must be brutally evicted from Earth
Then National service you call it
Your efficiency they measure by your harvest of Corpses

You are given guns and swords
Then you multiply Orphans and Widows
Shelling, Spraying, Shooting and Bombing
Maiming, Killing just for a disagreement
Where is the sense in these?

The course must be done
By any means must be won
Like felling half a Forest
Only for a wandering pest
Thou art a classic thief of peace

In the name of National service beasts are born
Awarded MEDALS OF HONOUR and called BRAVE
Because many they have and can kill
Who can for this disease provide a pill?

After all said and done
The ignored roundtable is returned to
After all be torn down
Then senses wake up
And all to the roundtable

Fire has failed to quench fire
Now they seek Water
Peace deal; Peace deal
Cease fire; Cease fire
Again I ask, where is the sense in all these?

PRICE OF MY BRIDE

I want to marry
But that wish must tarry
Cos Bride Price now follows Fuel Price
Thanks to Fathers-in-Law
Like Jacob seven year more years to work
Fatten my wallet and claim my Bride
I come to marry but, he comes to close a deal
I know not my Sweetheart as an
Investment portfolio; Economic Merchandise
School fees from Nursery, Feeding from Birth
All these I must repay to have a wife
What a life
I have found my other
But her price is quite a wonder
I have her heart but not her hand sake of his price
Thanks to my Father-in-Law
I thought it was Marriage and not Purchase
But my Father-in-Law speak of prices
Perhaps a receipt I should get
The price is obese but my wallet on diet
So my wish to marry must still tarry
Cos my Father-in-Law isn’t smiling
Bride price is like an Olympic runner
Swift on the price tracks
I thought a heartthrob I found
But knew not that a merchandise she is
Sake of the price, my Love I cannot claim
Until I hammer
I am banned from her
Help, Help, this price snatches my Bride
I have found the flower to pluck
But there is nought from my wallet to suck
Father-in-Law is not smiling
So our love is in limbo stuck
Father-in-Law; Business partner
Please your price moderately trim to my wallet’s ability
So I can ‘buy’ your merchandise; my Bride
Please thy price trim so I go home not alone
Father-in-Law; Biz partner, allow me this fruit to pluck
Before time over her runs and her nectar loses its power
And no Man will unto her look
Living room has turned to Board room
Deal or no deal, Deal or no deal
Cos a Bride from here I seek
But my wallet holds not the price

SLAP TO SLEEP

This time is for long faces and wet eyes
To honour the departed with weeping ovation
But I hear no sob nor see any tear
Where is the Ocean of tears and siren of wailings?
Ah! The atmosphere has been raped

Today is mourning day
But Irony has taken over
Laughter barges into the solemn air
Business cards, friendly compliments on the exchange
The sleeping fellow totally forgotten

Pots of all sizes very busy
Aromas clashing in the air
Delicacies and cuisines unlimited
See appetites on rampage
When in hibernation it ought

The cloud is invaded by cheers
Oceans not of tears but wine
Forerunning cliffs on many plates
They ignore the rites for some bites
It’s all about him and not about him

Professional tears far from the ground
They promised to be there
But see them on the dance floor
After the rites they walk over the bed
It’s all about him and not about him

They ought to be in tears for him
But canopies and drums are rolled out
And different tunes enter the Air
Mourning continues at the dinning
And wailing on the Dance floor

Dust to the feet, feet to the dance floor
The still one seizes not to shake his head
The departed ought we to honour
But they only become still celebrants
And reason for another party

UPON HIS SHOULDERS

The ladder by the Corner, Interrupts my dear slumber
Because my purpose beckons
The rungs and height is my lot
I give my life climbing, To keep another life
When they is fire, my name they remember
When they run out, I run in to be the Me
Not that I am Samson, nor do I have a dozen of lives
I am come for this!
… The steps which none will, I of myself have to take
I climb, though might be brought down
In this skin of mine made brown
It all begins and ends with them, I’m missing in their minds
Ignored like I’m absent
On the ladder I’m not spared the foot
Yet I craft my cross a ladder
I am like a Prophet strange to his own
Perhaps honour is scarce in my town

WHEN LOVE EXPIRES

This was to be forever after
From young to gray
But when comes the Storm and Heat
Rocking the Boat to its feet
After a little fight they quit

Rather than repair they abandon
Throwing Love out the window
‘cos there is this phrase…
IRRECONCILABLE DIFFERENCES

An excuse to kill this seed
Love is never automated
Give it another try, another chance
Tend it, and Heaven it will be
Let it, weeds and thorns will surface

When Sweet Grapes turn sour
When ripe Apples turn rotten
All they echo is…
IRRECONCILABLE DIFFERENCES

How about that voice that sent you to Jupiter
How about that smile that took you to the Clouds

Perhaps that season is over
‘cos a new fruit is around the Corner
so scream they… IRRECONCILABLE DIFFERENCES
Back into the Sea, exploring varieties
In search of a new arm/bed
Then they go… IRRECONCILABLE DIFFERENCES

Que Sera Sera, a blatant lie
This, like all in Life need some work
Mos def, never grown by sheer luck
The Garden must be tended, else the weeds
Cupid’s shot just not enough

When the heart is enraged, the mind is blind
Reasoning is casted behind
Garden of Eden becomes a battle field
And the Roses of that Garden must wear some bruises

VERTICAL STREET

This street lacking a twin
The lane of Saints Republic
Different from mine coated with Gold
If I walk through I will see the throne

Cheated of figure really narrow
In size, tiny like an arrow
An eye over my like a sparrow
Walking on blind of tomorrow

I see his masterpiece on different faces
Passing by me, many of diverse races
So diverse even at different paces
It’s a journey for one, our personal races

Without the consent of friends I pick
Never did I wait for a kick
Turning around for the bend of the meek
They see me weak for that I seek

Not on this tracks for some dollars
Nor against some neighbouring fellas
This lane saves me from the eternal hammer
But none of my steps is of my power

I walk this echoing boulevard
My heart pounding so hard
To wear that crown waiting afar of
And to see the CHRIST once told of