The thought freed itself Coated in tears Reeking of rot This was morning He saw what he had Needed to rip And shred Life Theirs The crowd Behind the aisles Of his tomorrow
Aisles
Who am
Busy defining who am I Wondering who am I Busy living who am I Striving who am I Busy vibing who am I Stomping who am I
Spiddly
Spiddly wondered if he could He was lean and short Bent to the left Spiddly thought he had He was undersized and selfish Skinnie little binnie Spiddly dreamed he would He was ambitious and hungry Fed on fantasies Spiddly knew himself a nomad He was alone and lost Killed by will
Inspired
Inspiration with morning song His best time stood, In harmony with His morning glory, Something about a rush of blood Two heads engorged Two heads inspired. Time to set-off and With the birds chirping, He knew he could His mind sharp, Words at his beck and call Like the morning mistress beside him Ready to drain, Take him inspired.
Diaspora
I joined One drop amongst many Each with our passprt In hand All of us a tide on New shorees Washed up and tired we arrived Empty and evaporated From the journey Where were the ones we loved Where was the Mazowe I had crossed a boarder I deserved it Where was the Tanganda I had crossed a continent I needed it Where was the Royco The cold tore at The vestiges of my sunny Camphor
His need
I looked into watery eyes Eyes of my father My brother My sister, My mother looking into the wall Her shaky voice, At discord with her words "Go and make it", Her success farewell. There I was A young man who dreamed Of a house in the 'burbs Where a carpet of Jacaranda blooms Would welcome October, Now I was a young man Burdened By his fears By his guilt By his need "To make it." My feet grudgingly stepped Through the door, My tongue remained behind Tasting mama's cooking Samp, Rang out its buttery call To a successful rainy season My toes inched forward Journey oblivious Beckoned, As the final score in street soccer There would be no tomorrow Just today's steps I was convinced I had "To make it."
War paint
The boy within, Confidently chatters Prattles on about, His Virility Ability Dragon slaying defiance The man without wears, Warpaint Where he should wear, Armour. It races his heart Tightens his muscles, Empties his gut Of fear, Warpaint Shown to the obstacles In his life, He is here to win On his side he has, Warpaint Battles in the world of work Hustles through the day, A small victory At the ATM, A positive balance, He thanks his wins, Warpaint But it cracks and peels Along the lines, Of his grimace and smile They share the lines, His weaknesses and fears Revealed throough the lines, He went to life with, Warpaint He should have had Armour.
Shards
Shards and pebbles. With games played By broken bones, Childhood lost Your abandoned soul, Staggering and tripping With mined fields, Promise no tomorrow. Little man I lord, over Your boyhood My whip Splitting
Me
I looked into Myself All I could see Confusion A mix of Aspiration A sprinkling of Desperation And realisation I needed more Than me But I had to Find me Whilst I was less Than me.