All The Madness Around Here
Whether or not Charly Boy was born with a placard in his hand, I know not, But his words: “Our mumu don do” must not be left to burn in the fireplace of sentiments Because medicine for many of the ailments that plague our society,…
How A Man Enters Into His Head
These two things marvel me: how a man enters into his head with the map he inherited from his father, walks the winding paths, until he is lost! & how a man hides from death by standing behind his breath, covering the nakedness of his…
Voyages of Deserts & Forests
The night is cold, old & grey, but my thoughts would not let it die. A tear trickles down my cheeks to water the stands of joy, withering in my heart. See, if life is a desert, every man carries his own oases in his…
Even Death Has Regrets
This is a slightly revised version of a poem published by Parousia Magazine in 2018. We thought to share this with you in the spirit of Easter. Enjoy this sizzling Easter poem! Stuck in the throat of the wind is a song, a dirge for…
To woo a man
Who said a woman must sit still like a statue or sculptured image under the tree of love and wait till the wind of fate blows down bat-eaten fruits into her outstretched hands? Who said a woman cannot stand upon her feet like a human…
Shrines
Today, a cold sinner will find warmth by sitting around the fire in a pastor’s mouth. but this sinner knows not that communion is a purgative which causes constipation, so he’d eat one piece of bread, and his tongue longs for another, then a drop…
Blind and Helpless Figures
This morning, Just like my blind neighbor, Musa and his son Yussuf A blind me placed my hand on the shoulder of my muse And away wandered, walking within a world of words Ai salam ley ku Put a coin here and Allah will smile…
The Currency of Hope
Peter sat by the road side. His skin, black like ‘condemned’ engine oil and his eyes, a reflection of a soul that was nothing but an ash tray of burnt dreams. Not only were his eyeballs hanging conspicuously from its sockets, they were as red…
A Girl’s Life Is An Allotrope Of Death
Last night I drank an ol’ man’s sigh- mouthful after mouthful; & sat still until the last drop, staggered down my throat, into my bowels to quench the flames burning therein. Early this morning, I awoke to Dawn- perching on the rays of the sun,…