My Mind= Field | My Feelings= Ball

Falling in love with fire,
an obsessive, compulsive liar,
was the most exhausting thing
that I had ever done
since the very minute
that I was born.

He would say,
‘Air, you need to come on stronger
if you want to have me.”
So, I would give him more air,
and we would start a fire right there.

Then he would say,
“woah, this is too much for me;
you’re going to blow me out.
If you don’t leave me be for as long as I need,
you will go many days without.”
So, of course, I would withdraw,
until our fire was no more.
It made my soul so sore.

Extremely hot,
extremely cold.
Extremely fickle,
nothing to mold.
Extremely mean,
no heart to hold.
I never told him off;
I was never so bold.

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What is the Colour of Love?

 

Is the colour of love blue,
like the mysterious, ancient sky?
We know that the sky
never stays blue forever,
it does turn dark at some point. 

Is the colour of love white,
like the beautiful, powdery snow?
The boy and girl roll around in it first,
and before they become man and woman,
it bites their fingers or they slip to death.

Is the colour of love red,
like the blood running in our veins,
like the gorgeous roses that we love?
Roses rot and blood gets contaminated,
they’re not immune to decay and death.

What is the colour of love?

Isn’t it the colour of water?

Water is gentle;
water is fierce.
Water brings laughter,
and also, tears.

Water is life
but water is death.
Water is knife
but water is breath.

Water frightens you
but it calms your fears.
It has kept the earth alive
for many years.

If you need water,
you most likely need love.
If you can’t abstain from water,
you probably can’t abstain from love.

Rejected

You break a heart
when you refuse to touch it;
you’re guilty of the love-crime
when you refuse to commit.

Your Best Feature

Red Scar Peju Alatise

“Red Scar” by Peju Alatise

You become your best as a creature,
and as a creator,
when you realize that your scar
is your most-attractive feature.

Don’t Forget My Children

Little children who can’t pronounce war yet;
children who shouldn’t know what it is.
Running, their bodies plagued with beads of sweat,
with kwashiorkor and tuberculosis.

“Uncle, where is mama? Where is papa?”
Parents’ bodies are lifeless on the farms.
“Mama, why did you leave me here with master?”
Babies are starving, dying in their own arms.

Don’t try to make me shut my mouth
when I get possessed by pain and cry.
  
But if we return to the past, we’re going south.
Can brothers forgive other brothers if they try?

Take flowers to the sea for my children,
who could’ve been all they wanted to be.
At least, admit it was not okay for grown men
to snatch my children away from me.

hunger

Biafran War (6 July 1967 – 15 January 1970)

The Lady of His Dreams

Death

He calls for her sometimes,
whenever he closes his eyes,
wherever his body lies.
Impromptu, she takes take him away,
be it night or day,
even when he lies with bae.

She hopes he would stay one day;
she cannot get enough.
Right before he goes away,
right before he opens his eyes,
she wipes his memories of her off.

She is his mistress,
but he does not know her yet.
She has gorgeous breasts and soulful eyes,
and we all call her “Death”.

On the night of his 75th birthday,
after many years of sweet sex,
she will propose to him while he is asleep,
and, of course, he will tell her “yes”.

Love Can Now See; He Wants Everything.

"Bouquet' by an unknown artist

Love is not blind anymore;
I worry about the things he can see.
He does not want to talk some more;
he wants me in bed on three.
I consciously mask my imperfections
so he’ll choose and stay with me.
He says my boobs and butt are small;
I think about increasing them by three.
Our boat is on rough seas
but all he wants to do is flee.

He says he wants freedom, 
and she’s not me.


Requited lust.
Unrequited love.
It’s interesting how the lines between love and lust have been skewed.

Save Justitia

justice

Let us save Justitia;
let us rescue the Lady of Justice.
They have blindfolded and enslaved her,
and taken her voice away.

They command her to strike
even when she can’t tell who is who,
who is right or wrong,
and who is innocent or guilty.

Things are not being done fairly,
but how can she tell
if she cannot see for herself?

They tell her blue is white,
and white is black,
and black is red,
and red is green.
The assigned kidnappers have
been trained to deceive her.

She holds a sword in one hand
and a scale in the other,
but bigger and sharper swords 
constantly threaten to attack her.
She feels the bigger swords’ pinch on her back,
and she takes their orders without question.

So, dispose the sword and toss the scale;
we must do it, have no fear.
We will not let evil prevail;
O̩ya will take over from here.

oo

 

Aládékojú

OsunOlomoyoyobrightcloseupsmall

The Art of Stephen Hamilton

Protect me from life’s vanities;
guard my soul against its insecurities.
Whenever my heart goes weary and weak,
Mother, protect me from myself.

Against depression and its similarities,
in my spirit, build immunities.
Make me make a world a better place,
and breastfeed me yourself.

We Walk Different Paths

Roses are red;
violets are blue.
I mind my business,
and so should you.

Don’t compare anyone’s life to yours. You either get an ego boost or you get your ego deflated. Neither is good.