The bent tree

The roots are drumming
With their toes buried deep and humming

They are sending an unlikely rhythm
Up and so vigorous that they cannot fathom

So tireless are the leaves, waving as they warn
About the new dance from now on

The wind is forced to obey and subdue
As the caged birds sing their resting place in due

All is surrendering for the day has come
When the bent tree is straightened for the ravaged sum

The falling wall

As it hikes high and sites like a bold might

As it screams ragged feel and beams with gut zeal

At it packs sands and sacked cement lands

As it stands nigh with its back in great sigh

The falling wall yields its sound in frail light

psycho silence

The lioness is without place
And she refuses to be caged
So she wanders and pants in rage
As hunger sites her cubs and ego in plague

As for the lion, he is resisting to be found
His moves leave no traces in the compound
His fast paces and runs are simply without sound
Though his big feet stamp her womb with a pound

Surely she is left with red eyes
Anger outgrows patience in size
And her cubs look more and more like mice
As frustrations spray hot water at her sight

She devours their heads with her claws
Her evil side is in the light without flaws
Their lifeless bodies lie symmetrically in a land free of laws
The taste of blood she sips from their skulls

But in an instant she hears nearer a vigorous panting
The trees and grass in front begin to make way; fainting
And the lion appears in a hurry before the lioness who is tainting
With a dead deer like he went hunting

So there, in the most unlikely scene, they stood in psycho silence

You

Maame is writing a poem about you.
You, who knows me more the pleasant few.
How I do go about claiming “not you I love do”?
You, who is afraid to lose me and the same
You who is afraid to love me who is not a tame
Aint that a shame?

Jennifer is serenading you, fool
To think that I will subdue and drool
When all you are sometimes is a weekly lustful tool
But to think about telling me to be calm
When I am about to blow up like an alarm
Is the reason why you still soothe my mind like a balm

I am tell you like it is, sir
I love you and maybe it is not fair
That the best of my love is not part of your share
But isn’t it enough when I care
Is the sweet juice of my lips when we kiss not there?
Why not trust it when I say it is you that I prefer

Encapsulate me

Cast me into the pond of foreseeable limitation
Tab me as an eternal spiller of verbal destruction
Seclude me from the category of benevolent formation
Hack me off the branch of the ideal tree of decent creation
Work your brain, go ahead and encapsulate me

Deem me as the poster child for seamless inferiority
Interpret my boldness as an inapt episode of spontaneity
Estimate my intelligible personality as pure simplicity
Construe my reverent silence for unrestrained stupidity
Work your brain, go ahead and encapsulate me

Persuade your beliefs to meet with “she never really loved me.”
Call it “whatever” for my sentiments you never got to see
Pay “it’s for the best” for the fabricated neutral ending fee
Sew us shut and say, “Oh, I am so glad we are not meant to be”
Work your heart, go ahead and encapsulate me

I have outdone you to what you mean to express
I comprehend your need to falsely impress
Others by advocating counterfeit lows for free
So go ahead, do your best to encapsulate me

May wind

Sometimes it is hot then it is cold and when it is not,
it’s in a rush: this May wind is blowing fast.
Battered hope is forced to silently cheer for forbidden dreams,
which refuse to take their seats in the past.
It sprints and won’t cease to verify what it is smoothly
whisking away: my sanity misplaced in the trash.
It passes in pride as if it haunts with the consent of Force
yet oblivious as if it lacks light in its flash.

It precipitates frigidly and raids houses,
usurping the perpetual contentment without contestation.
Inertness is evoked; the fervent green is blistered brown;
while it dances swiftly without hesitation.
Legs are wholly enslaved to motivation, while
motivation is entangled in its flattering web of stagnation.
The picture perfect now dines in winter;
while breath is now smoke with lungs in gradual deterioration.

It manipulates its sizzling hum into the sun’s head,
converting the shining star to dim in calmness.
The sun’s eyes boils red; meditating in anger,
planning not to shimmer but to burn in fullness.
Pollution is blamed, Global warming is framed,
and frustrations are flamed, eradicating common sense.
But perplexity lies in the heart of it
that exhibits its presence with a driving sound of deviousness.

The May wind

Undone.

Though it is bright, the sun is still missing from the sky.
The trees send cutting sounds with their winter leaves dry
She shivers, weathering but refuted and left a lie
Together, they cried, “where is the light? oh my”

Their knees are weakening and cant stand for long
Stomachs are in vain as their feet sing a sad song
The earth is turning its back on them and the food is gone
With Sharp wind leading the way; focused and strong

She stares at the white wall, puzzled and empty
Her eyes hold her sweet rain for she knows no cheeks
A memory now knows more than her, though filty
She filters, traveling far back so they can meet

The Exit, from the House I Live In

The Exit from the house I live in
The backdoor that leads to fresh air from all the smoke
The rest that is deservingly needed from endless battlefield
The calm, which never comes unless I make
the Exit, from the house I live in

The Exit from the house I live in
He holds me tightly, close, as if my strength is not broke
He praises me for winning when I have lost my shield
He listens, peacefully, which is never coming unless I make
the Exit, from the house I live in