80% perspiration

Do you remember me? I was the breeze that blew your sails As it billowed across uncharted seas In lecture halls and libraries. I was the candle flame that drove away The cobwebs of ignorance And grooves of darkness That shunned the illumination That Alexandria’s Lighthouse promised.

A slice of lemon shaped moon Squeezed into the blue gray sky, Eyeing the depressed sun; head bowed. A flicker of starlight Diamonds on velvet hair, Hanging down her back; The moon, I mean. Woven until morn, Waiting for her darling sun, Waiting and waning and wasting away.

I lie in wait, Deep within chill depths. Smoke, drooling from my lips; Chill dew, leaching my skin. Soon, I am chosen. Soon, I am revealed. My innards -spilled; My soul -emptied.

Life sometimes hits us with a lot of trash and slowly kills our dreams, aspirations, ambitions. It is said, I can't remember who now, that the grave is filled with great men. Some of these greats were potentials that were never realised because they died. Don't go wishing you did this or did that! Dream big!! Pursue your dreams! Live a fulfiled life for God's sakes folks! Don't exist, live!! Happy new month...love ya'll Do You Still Dream?   Good morning my dear. Did dreams sweep through sleep As you tossed and turned? Did you dream of beauty; Sweet, red lips, fair flushed skin, Long legs, wide hips, Protruding buttocks and breast? Did you dream to touch His heaving sweat slicked chest, Flat stomach and beautiful hands? Did you?

  It's a Free Verse I Write Perspiration of a word, The tears of the soul, Pouring out in iambic rhythm On sheets of unforgiving papers.

Old Man Time Drumbeats of old, tightened skins, Breathing out rhythms of the black soul. The lash of civilization cut short our song, Taking our spirit and binding us in chains.   Intoxication of power; this power first stolen, Now returned, is dressed in democracy Of a few monarchies and takes to the streets In habitual confrontation with the discontented.

I can no longer find my muse. She has travelled in a rush. From me, she has refused        Prayers like a goddess so crushed As to reject a sacrifice. I can no longer sing. Like a nightingale turned To an owl, I can only hoot.