Why I Write

I write because it is my enchantment

I don’t need to feign my competence

of matching and coupling words

to a celebrated new meaning.

 

Words render me relevant and imperative

away from styled record of blemished sadism

in a cold world that made me believe I was small

words seize me from all vanity.

 

My potential is at the verge of explosion

since few seem to hear the sound of my pen

dancing through invincible nights and transparent days

spelling a clear visage of who I am and should be.

 

Words save me from the litany of lies

of self-guilt and self-accusation

they make me ride in the waves of pure triumph

of a man entitled to own dreams and illusions.

 

I write about many moons and suns

and about the wonder of shooting stars

in world full of glorious possibilities

and one day they will write about this!

 

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Soul Reflections

Soul Reflection

We sin as devils; do we love as angels do?

Soul Lesson

Not a Killjoy

Like the Sun

She trusted explicitly

her rebellious act

against the angels

they had lied

again

 

She had escaped

to rescue her spirit

it will no longer be

ruled from the outside

 

She was a woman

full of quests and charm

her past was never a burden

because it lightened her soul

 

Like the sun

she was alone

but would never sell

her days for gold and promises

 

Let them think what they want

but she was in love with the soft breeze

she needed to listen to everything it carried

illuminating everything in her life like the sun

In the Dark Room

The empty room echoed

the hollowness of his heart

the world had shattered him

and everything in it felt dead

 

Now

he could not fly

his wings were clipped

he abhorred walking

the ecstasy of hatred

overshadowed the joy

of any kind of love

 

And though unwanted

he was unbidden

despite the long waits

on the long nights

that turned him into an owl

 

Upon a midnight dreary

a tapping stirred him

revealing the image of him

through his mind’s eye

he could see

feel

&

touch

his finest moments

What Happens Next?

What happens next?

That question

was surrounded by a currency of shadows

and rang a tabernacle of bells

he could neither think and answer

exhaustion was a silent companion

and it clouded his imagination

he did not know that he had arrived

where the stars, the moon and the grey sky

spelled eternity

was he going to open his eyes?

Or his heart?

I am Who I am

I am who I am

A rock beneath the waters

The prince of the black sea

Silent listener to the soft breeze

That carries old tales of light and dark

And of the secret darkened rose of Africa

Whose distilled succulent scent

Commands the world to shut up and listen

Her ever-alert thorns

Horn and hush the decay of red earth

Rousing dreams and fantasies

Of the quiet ones

The dreamers

And misfits

Who carry

Gentle

Hearts

Falling

Like a pregnant cloud

She was unable

To control

Her senses

&

Self-preservation

Her heart was falling

Hard

She was a fool

Caught

In a trance

Of love

That lie was

Beautiful

Blissful

&

Her downfall