What is Love? III: A Cage

a_bird_in_a_cage_by_sebowebo-d5esu3r

“A Bird in a Cage” | Sebastian Gomez 

Dear Love,
why don’t you love me?
Why do you like to punish me?
You possess and drain my strength,
but you let the other go scot-free.
When I am in you
and when I am not,
when you are in me
and when you are not,
I am always lonely.

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Sun-Child

Sun Child

You’re quite eccentric,
aren’t you, sun-child?
This minute, you’re wild,
moments later, you’re mild,
something changes about the previous way
in which you smiled,
as if you have a switch with which
you control your lights.
It used to make me cry,
now I’m somewhat beguiled.

No one can make you the sun
they want you to be,
there’s more to you
than anyone can see,
you’re true to yourself
and that’s awesome by me,
and even if you turn red or green
or the colour of the sea,
as long as you are happy
and as long as you are free,
I would still be proud of you,
do you hear, sun-child?

Dead Love III

They didn’t fall out of love with you.

Love itself is a paradise-like pit;
where else can anyone possibly fall into
if they fall out?

They climbed out of the love you shared
without you.

You felt their footsteps;
you just chose to ignore it,
or get used to their struggling to get out,
while convincing yourself that they were
drawing closer to you.

Perhaps, you simply watched them leave
because there was nothing you could do.
Someone was helping them get out;
a paradise-like pit had been dug,
an old, slightly-covered one,
or a new one, out of the blue,
and you never knew.

The Present is the Past III

Your past is the present
that you present to your self often;
choose and wrap carefully.

The Sun is a King of Swords

The heart of the sun is cold!
See how it punishes us so;
it makes us sweat for it’s strong presence
whenever it wants us to.

King of swords.jpg

I could be wrong.
Maybe it has a nice and warm heart,
but how would we know,
if it doesn’t let us near?
It’s always so defensive;
how could we know it well down here
if we have lots of fear?

Man on the Sun.jpg

“Man on the Sun” by Leo Barkarola

For all we know,
landing on the sun
could feel like landing on the moon,
but the sun won’t let us make it up there.

I Still Love You

withering sunflower

My darling sunflower,
you’ll always be my flower,
with or without the sun.

Death V: Death is a Caring Snob

jimoh-buraimoh-meeting-of-elders

Painted by Jimoh Buraimoh

Death is such a selective listener.
It heard you groan and cry in pain,
and it came over to take you away.
It chose to not hear my pleading,
my wails for it to let you stay,
as I asked God to grant you healing.

Karma is Fundamental

karma-e1524632556883.jpg

Michael Escoffery

They had Fun.

They ripped her clothes off and took turns,
pushing themselves deep inside her,
not letting he go till they were satisfied.

Don’t we all know that
Fun is a ruthless, psychopathic man
in the body of a young girl,
a young girl with perky breasts,
not very large buttocks,
and slightly round hips?

Fun got up,
shook the sand off her hair
and wiped the dust from her knees.
With blood still dripping from
between her thighs,
she laid them flat on the ground
and had them too,
slashing their insides and
filling them up with her acids,
till they began to scream and beg in pain.

They squeezed the rose,
and they loved and enjoyed doing so.
The thorns law-ved and enjoyed
every drop of their blood and sweat too.

Wife Material

He called you “wife material”,
so you began to blush.

No matter what she knows,
and what she becomes,
why is it that what a woman weighs on
anyone ‘s wife material scale
is what she’s worth?

So, he made you his material,
true to his word.
He even prostrated to get you-
paid your expensive bride price in full.
You’re intelligent and beautiful;
you’ve been spent in the university too,
but you have a new name and owner,
who can do whatever he wants to you.

“K’aso e soke!”,
[raise your gown!];
“afi ko maa lo e mole bii aso oke”
[he demands for the sex he paid for].
He even beats you like “aso ofi”,
to tailor you to suit his needs.
Your husband’s insecurities have to come first;
who are you to have any dreams?

He wears you out,
then he wears you out to functions
where worthless wife-materials must be worn,
to be entitled to respect and dignity.
He shows you to his friends
and tells them to get one like you.
Then he takes you home and hangs you;
he’ll respect you at the next event.

I’m not telling you to miss being a Mrs;
I’m telling you to not miss your life
to be a man’s reserved slave- a Mrs.
A single person is a person still;
if the society will not accord you respect
till you get a husband,
whether or not he will abuse you
in ways that are socially acceptable,
accord the society’s lack of respect no respect
and take all the time you need.

People wipe your tears for a while,
and then they let them dry on their own.

Life’s Bully

Death is a bully,
isn’t it?
Life is short,
and Death is quite tall.
Death defeats life often,
but we can’t do a thing.
We can’t expel death from the earth;
humans can’t preserve their breath.
We’re helpless.