Doze off

Sometimes
I hear the car horn in the distance
Monotone with my heart beat
Catching rhythm
Loosening the knots
By the edge of rocks
I hear the knuckle
The against
The rubbing
Then the fire
Sometimes
Early in the morning
I hear the lonesome driver
Heading somewhere
Speeding in the badly lit street
Never fearful of what might come
The burning of tire
Screeching, hydroplaning
Then skidding
Into black
Sometimes
I see myself
My skin pores tense
Holding onto worry
Eyes staring at the screen
My hands relaying the workings of my insides
Waiting for the next tap
Waiting for the next line
Waiting till I can finally….

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Simple World: Using Culture for Survival

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Using culture for survival, not to antagonize: creating division amongst a generation that have more things in common than any era to have lived on earth.

Imagine a world, evil hiding in the presence of good. Acting, representing all the glamour and glitz associated with serenity only to lose one step down then the true face appears.

The idea to go back home after all this years of pillaging through the mud and rain of another country has hope burning crawling through my veins. Having fought hard to come here to this place, I now find myself fighting life itself to go back home. Rejection spews out of me with every attempt, every sweat, and every shiver. Through the seasons, I long for the abode I seek. Yet in another land, I am uncounted for. Without a name, a number they call me. And with force, I answer.

I stood up and looked around, and the eyes in the office met mine. It was bone chilling, seeing all that looked but could not see look at me and reveal the secrets beyond their minds to me. It was an eerie feeling. Evil yet sweet like the sweetness of a mother’s love. All pure yet if used could be bring the burden of suffering and abuse.

Pursue me, pursue me. Watch me grow into a man and see my mistakes every step I take. I call for you and come forth, with your hands out wide, like a lost lover ready to let go off any grudge, any pain that might have planted as a wooden stake into your heart. Yes, I see you. That wicked, wicked smile.

The idea of my blackness only sunk in when I landed at Dallas International Airport. The summer torching humidity was the first to welcome me. It was unbelievable stepping out from the well air conditioned lobby into the bare intense heat. It felt like the melting heat was tugging at my skin, reminding, sucking away any trace of bodily fluid. This was different from the northern sun of Kaduna I was used to. This was the in your face type of sun in a way mirroring much of the attitude I was to receive later on.

Through the red lines, our subject pupils adjusted to the green emerald light that emancipate every breath of the room; illuminating the high taste that encompassed the whole building. Our subject still deluded: entranced, walks towards the now increasingly bright light stationed at th

Valley Down

The idea of my blackness only sunk in when I landed at the Dallas International Airport. The summer humidity was first to welcome me. It was unbelievable, stepping out from the air conditioned lobby into the bare intense heat. It felt like the melting heat was tugging at my skin, reminding, sucking away any trace of bodily fluid. This was different from the northern sun of Kaduna I was used to. This was the in your face type of sin in a way mirroring much of the attitude I was to receive later on.

In plain sight

 

Can I tell you my fears?

As the rivers comes once again

While I have time to write

The darkness, my friend

Will you listen to me?

While you eat me alive

Do you know these things that rid me of love

Like a virus, I am dead to life

My soul trapped within my mind

a book closed hidden from the public

afraid to die alone

afraid to love another

lacking the courage to love myself

lend a helping hand to soul

my spirit stagnant in this never moving flow

and only thing I want to do

is just bathe in water

rinse this fire away

clean these tears

bury these burdened memories

yet everyday I wake up to hell

after sleeping in purgatory

the grind, the burn continues

Duality

 

 

Fighting the evil within me

I see the devil in my actions

An angel’s wings torn apart by ghouls

Walking round trip in this hell

This world, this rough plains

My vision of heaven perturbed

Always disturbed,

I am drenched in lust

Oozing malice without regret

Forget all the white glory

My eye has been blurry with red wine

The water long gone

Forgot the party never stopped

A never ending celebration

Sinners coming together on Sunday

In church, demons wearing gold

Woke up cos I slept through death

Baptized yet I arose in Babylon’s grip

 

The angels sing my name

I hear them

Far away somewhere, where my innocence escaped to

Beyond clouds, black and blue

Skin, eyes, color, taste

Blood, lineage, memories

Stars mixed with orbital sacrifices

 

Yes, I fight

Then I win

In my mind first

Then, third, my sight

Chorus, victorious revving

White fleeced sheep in a rotten herd

Stained but cleaned

Rinsed by salvation

Dusted away clouts from lungs

Green breeze,

Morning dew, healing

One that bridges

man and the spirit world

the sun, some call him

Drinking more water

Washed away the wine taste

Now I seek comfort

within the scriptures of flawless history

Survival comprised in red letters

In bold, Yeshua

White Nazarene, black glory

Dark Muhammed, golden cotton

Her, him

Don’t matter

Because in faith

I am restored