Vices

a stare and you’re smitten
stolen away from your grip
vices quickly rush to your aid
there to guide you
all your wants,
there n ready for touch

in a sec and you’re deep within
riding, swimming
what ever calms the nerves
tendons taken hold by chemical frequencies

hypnotized, eyes dilated
worn glasses coated with gold,
any paper brought
easily you sign away
as long as the perks shoot up

easy joys for the feels, man
h e a v y toils on your soul, man!

Whisky Man

When love drips
I take a sip
Straight, on cold rocks
Gush, a rush
The hot steam
Flowing down below
Through tubes and hardened heart
Keyed in, ignition started

Then it hits
midnight clock
Thoughts of you
furnace of your raging youth
You in the middle
Red lips on glowing skin
A moth caught in the lime light
dancing with wings and thighs
Oh, woman from the coast
ever ever so close to you

When all is blurred
The skyline jack journeyed
plastered with stars and troubled hiccups
Streets full of night time strangers
all connected through vintage brew
all storytellers sitting on wooden casks….

And, In that haggard stance
When words come out freely and
hearts bleed out barley desires
Then, without much grumbling
I grab the fire and burn
knowing I must have you
Your scent I must smell
Someday, someday
Someplace far from the whisky man’s grip

The Mandated African

From the time of my awaited arrival
Into the shores columbus claims
Into lucy’s palace, I flew
Built by foreigner’s red tears now calcified deep into hardened soil
Her land once resident to flowing milk and honey
Now full of flying paper-debts and glory billboards
Her rules quickly stamped on my skin, chipped and tracked inside tendons,
so I may never forget her emerald ways
Her scripted orders scrictly to follow
Blindly follow and you will never know
the underground makings of this gold-plated city spoon fed by
those in white tees submerged in brown border-crossed sweat
Follow blindly and your sold-out ignorance will temporarily save you from the fire that rages within these walls.

From the time of my arrival
Into lucy’s southern parts, I strolled
Then times: a lesson, for an unseasoned traveler
With my survival skills now tuned just right
Every loop hole, I must actively find
For lucy’s mandates were never meant
for the poor ones,
what more, a continental adventurer from
the so-called Ebola ridden lands
Here, even my buffalo’s siblings roll eyes when our souls jam
See I must find a way out, for me and others
Those others without a kobo to hold near
Those others who refuse to break bread with the judge himself
Those others who refuse to lay in bed with the devil’s bride

From the time of my arrival
to my survival revival, throughout my living, toiling, beneath lucy’s always glittering palace
I have found ways to keep my sanity;
methods that hold my faith of a united sahara
In these ways, I always seek courage on days when my spirit bar goes low
From my family’s strength filled by God’s light, or
good flowing rhythms that strike and fill soul
To a pen and spread out canvass
From these ways, I write out my own rules
Orders of a new way of surviving in lucy’s lands
Mandates meant for any African lost in the sea

Running From Love

When the night is clear and the star’s up
Black skies, the wind violent enough
I sometimes call her the devil
Cos whenever I see her from afar
She comes racing arms wide,
shining; teeth grinning
Black braided hair flowing
Her oval face placed on her perfectly curated body
Hips-thighed intimately inviting me for a meal
Her eyes: milk and brown
piercing right through my dusty old soul

And when she somehow catches up
I, sweat pouring down like a donkey working hard for evening hay
Her scent, intimacy propelled
My young heart crashing head on,
barely any beep-able tune heard
She casually leans onto me and boldly whispers
her voice softly dragging me out
“You are mine, dark skinned boy,” her red full lips words out.
“What in heaven’s gates do you mean?” my eyes asks her.
Another grin and she bares all.

So again and again
when the sun’s just ripe
enough to fry egg
My bare feet on modern paths
I take race, back into the incoming sunset
She, I’m sure, amused,
watches that “dark skinned boy with his heart intact, running away from any signs of death”
Or love she might call it.

Diasporan Blues

Another immigrant
washing away leftovers from plates
He might have flown over the seas
or she, across the harsh desert
Over and across, don’t matter
Tall fences blocking aliens away
Long stretched out rivers.

We are all the same,
uniquely shaded for the sun
We of the gun-shaped origins,
eyes all crisp with dimly lit hope
Look into these voided pupils
Past these migrated dreams
Through these walls of memories
where our dead loved ones lay still
There, we of the African beginnings are stricken to forever hymn
an ancestral continental song called
“another day to build and create.”