He lay dead
IN HIS OWN BLOOD
wearing his own shoes
WHERE HE HAD BEEN
sipping his own coffee
IN HIS OWN HOUSE,
resting on the cupboard
WHERE HE HID,
his gun
HE WAS SHOOT DEAD.
next to him.
Friday 7 October 2011
Road Princess
She shamefully, pitifully
Plods along the side-walk.
She carries all the right qualities
The society oppresses.
She wears her crown all year long
Knitted to her hair
She wears the crown ALL DAY LONG
The crown every girl forgets about.
She has her own public bunch, an alley and a box too to go.
Nothing to forget, misplace or lose in her black vague plastic hand bag.
Lucky girl
What more can a Road Princess want?
She’s consistently contemplating constitution steps to
her praise and glory that is everlasting
yesterday, today and faithfully tomorrow.
Her people bring her honor by facing away,
making fists right by the noses while…
vigilantly keeping an eye on the changing light.
She is the skinniest of them all,
her sister prejudicious, her brother is violent,
her cousin is shameful, her mother is affordable
and her dad is dead.
She is the Road Princess.
Emotion Run Dry
I
can feel them now
feel
them through my veins.
Here
they come with
the little power they have left.
They
give it their all.
They
will blind, break, baptize me.
They
come with no expectation
but
minor thoughts behind them.
And they
will find me in my palace to
chase my mind till insanity.
I
cannot stop the sound of their feet
from walking into my
ears.
I
can ignore their presences
for
they are invisible, blind to my eyes.
Blind
to my eyes they are
and
become naked before yours.
They
reveal the truth about my heart
and
my integrity cries the tears of
a mad woman with the voice of a baby monster.
My
tears run from my heart
down
my cheeks
and
drop dry like my emotions.
Yes my tear got
me.
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