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

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…..selling false hope for lavender dreams

 

I summoned to be free of darkness

Only to find the world had burnt to the ground

Nothing left to grasp

Ashes and white glistening bones

Black rivers and religion

Pressed down shaken

My heart remain unmoved

In this false reality

Created by another man just like me

Forsaking deities only for clay

My soul reaches for the potter

Every time I need water

for my skin,

Brown sand on blue hue

Simple World: dream, dream on

Wonderful plays, it seems. Slowly the tides shifts gears, with the pedal revved, the acquired sense of direction attains a new set of waves. Like a pair of new shoes, the delusion of enchantment smells too sweet at first. Only when you see the decays of the sole then, and only then you can boldly say “thou feet are worn out.”

The louder it gets, the smoother the lullabies get. The high pitched voice from the folk-place is always under the buses. Must water fall from the sky? When the land bears bountiful fruit. In the need for cheeks and checks, the kiss smears longer till the bite on the neck becomes apparent.

A striking resemblance you see on the wide world screen. It gets madder by each channel or Chanel. It grows wilder by the sound of the speaker; less reality, more distortion. The fetish of the street-grain-rodeo brings the compendium of highlighted thirst to a new low.

The steps of the queen drags a little too long. The stare she receives adds a year or two to the tale of the Sheeba and a mere man. So strong, yet her kiss settles easily on mouth. The want breaks loose setting another yearn for lust. Such and such, the silk dissipates and all that was hidden bears front in the room of embrace. The pain hints at a later time, but the Queen continues to hold her spell. The mirror says all, she reigns supreme. At day, her face. In night her cries.

Another maybe. Pass away smiles; dreaming on till laughter from the face of the passer-by rings into mind. The workout to bring sane goes south and sends messages to the unknown up north.

 

Cast your Love Away

Like slaves on a ship

Creep up like a beast

Demons fade away

When I come close

Setting like neon lights

Every where

Like opioids, free on the streets

Banished by those who cure

Deemed legal by papers

Pay me, pay you

Don’t matter

I just want mine without names

Soul never factor

I am just a beast

Like a black man in a cage

Looked from the outside

People, people

Looking into the box you paid for

Can’t you see these chains?

Than bind me

My generations looked to conform

to a star brighter than the heavens

 

Gravel, gravel

gravel deep, young sun

The seeds are in the soil

Love for another breaks the curse

To prosper one another

Virtue enabled for all

These things we seek

Tales at Night

The man in black

Black trench coat

Dripping of dreams

Nightmares in form of fear

Braced for cold

Winter rushing forth like water

Casting away summer sun

All here,

The night calling forth

Faith strapped in his holster

Bullets shaped for battle

War times meant for him alone

No help needed

God and liquor for guidance

The world consumed for heat

Hell a door away

Break, break

Brake then sweat

Demons racing for his soul

Spirit unchained

Shackles broken

Freedom, daily fought

The man in black

Skin melted with the night

Love a taste, hardly remembered

Still,

His path in the sky

Telling tales of perseverance