Do not relax their lids
For fear of a simple end,
Keeping gape eyes night to night day after day
And watching every second secured every night to dawn.
I’m poor not because I love sleep too much,
I sleep too much not because I’m lazy.
The biblical Hercules
Had the root of his thew
Shorn in deep sweet slumber,
He fell in sleep.
The kingdom of Troy
Faced the worst terror
Of the calamity of the love of Paris
Just to be astonished in the time of sleep
By the admitted Trojan horse,
Great little Troy fell in sleep.
Some forgone greats may have stumbled and fallen in sleep,
And the treasures of this world may reside in the arms of the awake
But I shall not be scared to sleep.
It is fudge as pronounced by love.
My vision of you and me as one is why;
An impalpable reality
That churns love from my empty life.
Why shall I be a slave of treasures of this world?
Treasures I can’t take with me to my grave.
I would rather be a slave to eternal love,
Why shall I fear a stumble in sleep?
I would rejoice hallelujah!!
My sweet dream shall be over;
I shall be with you forever.
I care not of the liaison of sleep, poverty and death,
For there the impalpable shall become palpable
And the palpable, impalpable;
A state I’d prefer since my sense of perception rejects the real things.
Even a happen in the past in this day
Or last night’s dream lingering
In the realm of reality today
By the strike of realization is still unique.
The day you first saw light,
The morning of your fifth birthday,
The first stumble of your heart into the pit of love
Through to the day life climaxes
You’ll never see the last Tuesday in the next Tuesday.
No more shall you descry seasons that have come and gone,
And not another time shall you see
Seasons of the present when they are extinguished
And those yet to come and go.
Don’t hope to,
For indifferent time shall do you no such favour.
Just look how hard you work in his name,
Still the stipend you get is what you get.
He is cold and hasn’t any time to waste either,
Forever sleepless why should he let you?
He has made every single second a measured treasure,
Every moment you breathe is sixty times over golden and unrepeated,
And he has mouldered life into a one way route to eternity.
There only are look-backs not comebacks.
For such reason,
You may live wisely, smile and regret little in your look-backs
Or live foolishly and weep and rue copiously
And hope for a comeback in you look-backs.
No narrow to escape,
Sentenced to love by fate
For an offence of living
To a deep confinement
With many corners to explore
And get lost.
Behind the insurmountable bars of passion,
In this place, the clock’s hands are blunt.
An emancipating enthrallment
Where only those adopted
By death are free.
Content and lucky as some feel to be there,
Deluded and born without luck
Some others want impossible freedom
But old wit can find them no way out
For it is a wiser permanent justice.
Stray luck only can or may,
Still freedom will be soiled by scarring memories.
There shall never be a narrow to escape,
And sentenced to love by fate
For an offence of living
To a deep confinement
With myriad corners to explore
And get lost.
Hope rationed me some joy
That a blue one like me shall be a lucky boy.
With every ounce of my capacity
I searched for a perfect conjugal felicity.
I knew a perfect love was all I needed to be rich
And I stretched every length to reach.
My sweet mother laughed at my ambition
And engaged my young mind;
“Son, you can’t fill a basket no matter
How much water you pour into it”.
For most of my short earthly eternity
I was determined to be happy
So my heart laboured and bruised its hands
In search of a glitter in the dirt.
They say there is a star for everyone
And that one star I found,
The brightest I could see in the galaxy
But that beauty may have settled only on my eyes.
Hope rationed me some joy
And a lucky boy I’d become.
Sweat and blood had flowed
Just for the hope of joy to fly;
My search and her wait
Had different aspirations
And the more I poured water into the basket
The more the water disappeared.
She is my perfect mismatched love
That banished my life’s ambition
From the realm of reality.
The pain of love preached by
Poetry I have read,
Ghastly words passing at Wuthering Heights,
The resounding notes of music,
And even the caution of my mother
Have deceived me to reside in safe risk.
The given vision I had of love –
A remorseless fiend that will torment me for all eternity
Had me trying to evade the shine
And heat of the sun on a bare desert.
My thoughts might be weak
But caged in my heart are intense cares
Searching for an exit in my vision,
This caged vitamin in my heart is becoming a poison.
It is time for me to forsake safe risk
And embrace risky safety.
Though my maker did not coopt me wings
I’ll jump the high end and attempt a flight.
I shall crash at the land,
I know that;
But I shall float awhile
And be flying just before I crash.
I adore the past,
Endure the glaring present,
At the unpredictable
Every now and then
The shadow under a womb disappears
And the hourglass starts to pour its heart out.
For another traveller has began his journey with a cry out loud but tender.
Where he comes from we find unfathomable,
Not even amen can satiate by telling the where(s) as we know them
Where he goes from here we feign to know.
Nay, his arms are empty but he seems to carry the heaviest of loads.
What a traveller this is –
He travels without a rucksack
He has one of two destinations for an end.
Initial steps are prattle and naive,
Then final steps as huge as a prance.
The whole praxis is definite
With a waltz from our present
Into unknown eternity.
Tidings reach you on tongue waves,
Upon harking you search for the strength
To brave the tidings
Like cave stone walls do the mad sea waves.
With celerity the brume in your past clears,
It is the announcement of;
The victory of a nagging ague,
The expiry of a one so loved,
The shake of the earth heralding the end
Of your silly world,
The site of the crumble of the humble moon,
Or the rain of the far off twinkling stars,
Mayhap the cold tip of
A villainous gun between the brows.
The life sitting in you in the happen is a distance away,
Apace, thoughts reverse into the past.
Which faces did you trespass last?
The noisome of regret
Comes mingling in the already dying breath.
Anyone on this dirty road
Shall need a steed of wish to tantivy.
Could this rue be not sans the alas of today
Or of the morrow?
But you said;
Let it be of the morrow,
Mayhap of the day after the morrow.
Now as you stand life is darkling,
No more cock crows shall you hark.
It is now you realize it is yesterday
You should have let
Your only child, mother or father know –
I love you,
It is yesterday
The application for forgiveness of a fidus Achates
You should have accepted
Albeit he let you down
Or you should have become a Magdalene;
A puritan of a maid,
It is yesterday your black wise
You should have repented.
Yesterday is the time to regret
Transgressions big or small
But today is when you do,
Today who is just as gone as yesterday.
To be in time for a difference,
The time to regret is yesterday.
Stagnant and stale,
Stationary and misleading
And in need of revolution,
Age is wiping true Christendom,
More pews are vacant with every new day
And ministers are losing their grip
In the sustained status quo.
Its abating will wipe all humanity
And under the intensely fervid time
Faith evaporates under a heat of confused wisdom.
We unknowingly desire as Avatar
To reiterate the words
Spoken but forgotten by us
Through the drains of time
By the Messiah from Nazareth,
The one who was pilloried by us
When his own help failed him for us
Just once at the place of skull.
We need that Avatar,
A Messiah with no climate
Of history of uncertainty
But utter words of certainty:
If only Jesus came one more time
And pulled humanity to the zenith
Of the hallowed eminence of faith.
I am of Christ and there christened,
His orison hours are dictated by the golden sun,
I am cocoa brown with a nose as broad as a shield,
His skin is fair as my palm’s white
With an erect nose as a tent.
My hair is spiral stygian,
His is golden, glorious in the sunlight,
And rests on his shoulders in the event of it being unshorn.
A snowy partition separates us,
We are bridged by endless tides
Of sand and of the deep currents.
As I reside in lucence
He wallows in lightlessness
And his day time my night time.
Our tongues churn out a difference
With every same epithet
And he sits on hills of silver and gold he may have stolen from me
While I scavenge for wealth in the barren sands.
Still his broken heart lakes his eyes just as me,
Our lacerations will pule blood
The same colour as the wounds of Jesus poured,
We live under the same sky and own one same earth.
But from ages of yore to this day,
In his mind me an oddity,
In mine him an oddity.
We are both from the womb of Eve,
The difference of the tongue does not matter,
Colours do not matter,
And climes shall not even be enumerated.
If only we ransacked our hearts,
We’ll find that love
To prove that we are brothers.