Death VII: Denial and Delusion

I don’t think Death takes all the lives that it has stolen
around with it;
He would have too much to carry.
I’ll look for where He keeps them
and return yours to you;
we’ve got so much more to do.
I’ll make sure you are not buried
till I hurry back with you.

Can’t anything at all be done to bring you back?
Advertisements

Love and Imperfection

We strive to touch the stars;
we reach for them.
We crave to hold them in our palms
but we often forget that
stars have sharp ends.

When we get pinched,
we doubt that what we have is a star.
“This can’t be it;
this can’t be all I’ve dreamed of.”

So, we release it;
we let it go.
We begin to confuse ourselves.

We tell ourselves that a moon
can make a better star
because it doesn’t look like
it has sharp ends,
but the moon usually ends up being
either too big for us to carry
when it is full,
or sharper than the star
when it has proper blades-
when it is a half-moon or a crescent.

When we get hurt again,
when reality sets in once more,
we move to the sun.
We say-
“the sun looks more stable;
it’s far better than the rest”,
but we usually get burned instead.

We return to the star
in a worse condition
than we would have been
if we had been patient,
if we had stayed with it,
but it may or may not
let us hold it in our palms again.
It may or may not take us back.

So has it been with many things;
so has it been with love.

I’m Fableous

Jealousy by Saatchi Art

“Jealousy” by Anna PS

Yes,
I’m
(jealous because you are
doing fine without me)
excellently well,
thank you.

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.

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.

I’m Not Your Little Negro Girl

He wants to be my knight.
I have noticed his random displays of might.
He gazes at me seductively whenever I’m in sight,
but all I can predict is a sorry plight.
How can you be the one that I’d keep warm at night
if you don’t think everyone should be treated right?

Can We Be ‘Grokay’?

Can one be great but not okay?
Can one be okay but not great?
Can you be everything but okay?
Can you be okay, but without anything?
How can we be okay if we’re not great?
But, how can you be great if you’re not okay?

 


Money or Art?
Money or Life?
What do we do? We need both. 
We don’t get paid for living, we need money to survive,
but we don’t live when the money comes first.
Our art dies and so do we.

Woman, One Word

No lips are lovely enough for my lips.
No words or verses are good enough
to make me feel like a woman.
No car or house is expensive enough
to fit my ego, and my dreams.
No food and promises are audible or
legible enough for my vagina and squirt.
No man is big enough for my arms;
no man is worthy enough of my love.
No hands are good enough for
my stunning breasts and thighs;
no amount of your money
is large enough for my hands.

I don’t need a man to be happy.
No man in the world.

I don’t need to be chained
by a man to be free.
No man in the world.

To be successful, I don’t need to
suck on smelly man-candy.
No man in the world.

No man is big enough for arms.
No man in the world.
No man in the world.

Defective Heart

I was born with a broken heart,
and no one can care for me
or love me enough.
If they don’t care for me
or love me for a day,
I’ll go back to being paranoid and hurt,
and I’ll be much worse than I was
before they came into my life.

No light is bright enough for my darkness;
nobody’s trust can make me totally fearless.
No love is compatible enough with my heart;
no brush is good enough for my art.
No air is fresh enough for my lungs;
no drums are good enough for my songs.

I must learn.
I must learn how to love myself.
No one’ll ever love me more
than myself.
No one’ll ever love my self more
than me.

My Armour Won’t Shine Forever

My armour won’t shine forever;
will I still be your knight?
I’m going to try my very best
to be as good as I can be,
but you will see me naked,
and know all there is to me.
It won’t be pleasant always;
there won’t always be light.
I know you love me today
but will you love me at night?