Blind Man

I don’t know where I’m going,
I wonder what I’m doing,
Maybe I’m growing
But someone steers a boat I’m rowing.
I don’t know what to believe,
Words and intentions belie belive,
My chest is dense with grief;
My joys are brief.
When i think I’ve found an antidote
Worse makes respite another anecdote…
My sockets are hollow,
If only any more hallowed.
I keep hitting something hard and rime,
You’ll wonder why I bothered with a darn rhyme.

~Bardkobik #Blueprint ’14

Grace Period

Complications are simple in genuine fealty,
Dangers are exciting as movie adventures.
It’s charming to see a part of you
On two darn legs.
Then you trust fate’s direction
As time furtively fleets to the very end.
No one ever tells you
It gets hard.
For a moment,
It’s okay to be blind
Before untamed promises run wild
Contrary to original intention;
The end of a grace period of perfection.

~Bardkobik #Blueprint ’14

Alone

aYour heart will bleed like squeezed fresh roses
No love, no worries.
Alone with a whole heart
And content with the damp shade of solitude’s hat
Where there is no everlasting hunger,
Pain and tears hereat shall not linger.
Hard as rock
I care not where I walk.
Deep in the coolness of well
And far from the hungry tongues of hell,
I’m selfish as evil
But free as an eagle.
I’m on my own in a stale cave
But I’ll swallow the key, for I’m safe in this cage.

Tears

Only strong belts of endurance
Can hold back this fluid; maybe magical,
From pouring down one’s countenance.

It is the wheel barrowTears
That carries out the wreckage circumstance leaves
After shaking a life in its moments of dominance.
It is the silent words
That turn around dispositions
By showing blinded people
The different colours of sunlight.
It is the rain that sometimes keeps a waif company
And crowns some bar-raisers.

I am jealous
Because everyone sees it in oodles
When season wearing the right circumstance comes.
I don’t,
Because my well of tears
Is arid with nothingness.

Life After Love… (The Other Side II)

Have you ever loved someone
Who left you for another?
Have you ever had the idea
That someone loved you and it wasn’t so?
Have you ever been fed love deliberately
Just to poison your soul?
Have you ever been dizzied with an idiot’s ecstasy
And left by the sole provider?
Have you ever been hit by gentle bullets of tears?
Gentle bullets from your own eyes
Because love slammed a door at your life
With the fury of a thunderclap
And the powerful diabolism of an earthquake?

Well, I have
And it felt like the tease of the chilly fingers of death.

To everything there are two sides.
Amazingly, this is the side of the coin called love
Many neglect a look at.
So when you get that cheap but important gem,
Flip it and take a thorough glance
And might just come to see that;
Love is not so parallel to death.
Armed with the infinite power
To keep you buried as deep as forever
In the heartbreak cemetery,
You will become a living phantom.

I am,
And now I know what it feels like
To walk about with one’s soul in the grave

Thoughts Of The Joker

The dawn was over
And the blazing sun toasted us
In brightness
But joy flooded our hearts
Knowing he was coming as usual
To complete the day,
Wiping off in the end all wrinkles
On the face of every entity present.

What fragrance of relief and content
Filled those four corners
Within those ticking moments of joy.
But cruel bureaucracy,
The unknown legendary devil
Came around and took back
What he had given us
And scarred us.

Where is Adarkwa and the chalk?
Where are the words he vibed?
They have passed like rain off a chin,
Like wind among the meadow.
Those days have gone down
And sunk into the west’s shadow.
How did it come to this?

Clara

The ever generous Maker gave us
a beautiful sunny day; Sunday.

But the fisherman’s boat
Had hit the shoal,
And rain drops fell off the pane.
Who was in pain?

The echoes of a beautiful cry
Could be heard outside the magnificent
But dilapidated structure.

It was the advent
Of one of the Maker’s
Most priced creations; Clara
Just a little child she is,
But fills my heart with overwhelming delight
And pastes a smile on my visage
With every epithet she spews.
Coupled with her
Beauty and innocent virtues –
She is perfect.

She is perfect,
But perfection may fail
To fit her like a dress with age.
How I wish she would be the same forever.

In Memory Of Lucky Dube (A Eulogy)

The weather was not favourable,

Nothing was adaptable;

The ground was too hot for any sole

And the blazing air was too hot for any flying soul

Because beasts among men had turned life cold

But he was just a lone cub – bold.

 

Even in harsh shoes

He grew to become a fine lion

As ghastly years blew honour

Rapidly into the vale of times

And abandoning MAMA

On the bare sands of a greedy and faithless world,

The whole edifice of MAMA’s pride

Was falling to the dirt;

And her dignity struggled

In the quicksands of sordid scorn,

But he fought gallantly and fearlessly.

 

Lucky fought gallantly

Till death on his usual furtive rounds

Did what he knew best

To break our hearts.

Love Hurts – The Dialogue

WILLIAMS: Grandpa, the hurt of love maims

Any progressive thought in my mind.

I believe love is an incurable disease

Every human must strive to avoid,

Don’t you think?

GRANDPA: hmmm… convince me…

WILLIAMS: Ok, just you imagine you have a friend

Who knows not of your love for her.

She is your friend and you try to please her as one.

But… your heart doesn’t want her as such.

You try to love her less

But your heart wants to love her not so meagre.

And though your mind reigns,

You are barely sane and so you are hardly quiet.

And she comes to chronicle to you

The joys of her great love –

These are laps on the clock you desire of her she gives him.

How racking and maddening… but if only you could steal the clock.

Like Dorian Gray you employ a beastly wise

To hide your true face,

But there is that other soul in you

That longs to be seen,

To be able to share gentleness, kisses and touches,

To show her to a world she never knew or had…

But even the two inside of you can’t brighten the gloom

In the depths of solitude by their drama;

Hence quiet you shall keep so she’ll enjoy

Her bliss and you’ll enjoy your misery because you love her.

GRANDPA: Williams my boy,

That must have hurt whoever you speak of real bad.

Does love really hurt?

(He holds his chin and rolls his eyes thoughtfully)

WILLIAMS: You agree then… (He says eagerly)

GRANDPA: You’re are one wise lad so I’ll telll you this;

Love never hurt me; love killed me, love made me cry

Till I had nothing to cry as tears,

Love made me hurt till I lost my sense of perception,

Love put me down till… I felt immortal.

In the shine of my youth,

When I walked into the inevitable path of love,

It was renewing, refreshing, soothing and thoroughly magical.

Where else, in whom could I have known such wonder?

But in his world and in him – love.

My eyes and ears and all wit were taken

And an addict I became,

Because love was so strong and demanding,

So sweet and but turned sour

Just at the turn of a corner,

Just in the tick of a second.

There were days when she and I just…

Just loved, held each other close,

Kissed each other long, and our hands,

Lips, bodies and our hearts comingled into one.

But in one step, maybe a toss of a coin,

Possibly the start of a new breath,

At the lips of a car she disappeared

In her slow spreading blood

And I have been bleeding ever since.

Such pleasure I’ve roved

Through my years and can’t fathom or find.

Williams, love could hurt,

Love hurt me real bad but…

WILLIAMS: You concede then that love isn’t that flawless bliss

That the movies, songs, stories and poems

Make it out to be? (He interrupts)

GRANDPA: No!!!

You see, a day that never learns to break

Never learns to shine,

A child that never learns to crawl never learns to run.

It is funny how at times death will reborn you,

And how other times

The pain moulds you.

Now listen and listen rapt –

Love is never compromising but sometimes risky,

But living life and never loved to death is worse,

Is worse than laying your heart

To be trampled on by loves feet.

Love is so antique, a wisdom very unpredictable,

A maker misconstrued as a destroyer

Because of the mischief of kismet.

This makes one wonder if love even loves us.

But which science can figure that out?

And that is what makes love a magical flawless bliss.

Love could be bitter,

It could hurt you beyond repair,

But once you’ve encountered it you’d see

That it is sweeter than it is bitter;

That the sobs from your cries if you observe better,

Will realize they are disguised mirths – even the hurt is sweet.

Williams, (He looks him soft and long in the eyes)

Lose your heart son,

Just so you can find it.