Category Archives: POETRY

A Piece of You

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If I could taste a piece of you I would betray like the Last Supper. Yet I would not kiss anyone because my affection would be momentarily just for you.Will you satisfy my six lust groups or will I dominate? If I could taste a piece of you I would surrender that future hour to your justice. Dictate your verdict Sir: locked in wonder or free to wander?

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Mind Fucked

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It seem so difficult to concentrate on any task of pleasure for too long. I am not sure why my mind goes on its own leisure away from the task at hand in flights of other objectives bourne out of a type of mind fuck. It is that fleeting mask green with jealous yet teasing my thoughts to unsettling nerves of fright. I cannot finish my novel in the timely manner of before because the sight of a familiar sends my paranoia running marathons. Why am I cunningly manoeuvring between settled and haste? It was moments of strategic thinking but now it feels like a waste of embarrassing analysis. Something is slipping away turning in times of torments and aimless mind mummbling. Dipping into cascades of shining nothingness,something is mind fucking.

A poem for Poetry Month. I may dip into the world of writing more than twice weekly for Poetry Month.Happy poetry month

Early Mornings

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I love to wake in the morning when the rest of the neighbourhood is indoors minding people’s business.
The feel of that glorious silence riding the back of darkness envelopes into a peaceful retreat. 
When the birds are chirping with no disturbance from traffic;free to not only roam but to conquer the air waves.
The monotonous drip drip dropping of a therapeutic rain makes me smile in content that I am indoors and not drenched in getting home before day break from a fete or a malicious broomstick meandering through keyholes rendering more than nuisance into people’s lives.

Healing/Protection

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I need healing the type that touches your soul.
I need some well meaning fire, oh so very bold,

To awaken the dead bones like Elisha of the old.

To strengthen my core against any magma of hatred frightening to erupt into a hole,

0f contaminated fumes of jealousy exhausts; a series of mould.

Dangerous leeches threatening because they sold

Their freedom for material gain and want Noirfifre to join their fold.

Let that protection circle like a vulture around my being and scold

All their wicked intentions so that they will never cross my threshold!

He Said What?

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He said “My nose is running like a slave.”
I said “What did you say? Tell me you just did not say…”
He said “Yes,my nose is running like a slave with a whip on its back.”
Ohhhh I planned to lay it in on him, really thick for having the nerve to compare his cold to Slavery.
So I said “I will write about you.”
Hours later and I am contemplating his statement and my response.

Why am I sensitive whenever someone juxtaposes Slavery with a subject I deem too crazy for such referencing?
What gave me the authority to feel a bit flabbergasted by his comment and at times disgusted by some others?
Why does just the mere mention of the word Slavery heightens my senses flowing maydays to my aorta of self-defense?
When do I learn to build a wall like China that would hinder all illegal foreign unmentionable from climbing into my sensitive thinking zone.
Oops but isn’t that the Trump wall?

But the solid opinion holds firm like old oak in hurricane winds that talk of Slavery moves me.
Not only am I a student of history but I am an accepted descendant of some enslaved.
Not only does the chocolate colour of my skin and my nationality shows my claim but my emotional connection plunges me into that world which scares many away.
Maybe I will keep my sharp inhales which sometimes pierces like the final whistle on the ball court,to myself.
But maybe not because that weapon dressed up in pink that God blessed me with is perhaps as sharp as the iceberg which sunk the unsinkable ship.

When Writing A Book Review Goes Wrong

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Crying, the only expression my face held back.
I just wanted and needed to cry.
Cry because after spending two days working,
On a book review of Northanger Abbey that cried
My sentiments towards Catherine Morland, Jane Austen
And Henry Tilney I plundered by accidentally cutting those paragraphs instead of copying.
No autocorrect, no instant arrow to reverse on InkPad Notes.
Gone are those words, gone into an imaginary Recycle Bin.

Daily Prompt: Promises

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via Daily Prompt: Promises

Do not promise me promises that you promise you would make

because we both know your history with promises.

Do not promise me forever when your tomorrows are

limited to now and next month or perhaps the next two months.

Practise how to keep vows, look in the mirror and repeat the words over,

over and over again.

Until you can understand the value of a promise, please stop taking

promises so lightly because they are serious words.

 

Why Did I Let It Happen?

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Mo- ments drawn out of past calamities to painful to forget but easy to remember the caution of not repeating.
Stretched out imagination pinning for an influence to drunk out to respond. 
Tortured thoughts of flash scenes not the thing of the pleasant flash mobs.
“How did I get myself here? ”
“Why did I allow it to happen?”

Guarding My Heart [An Alphabet Poem]

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Don"t play with my heart

Source: aliirfaan.deviantart.com

An array of thoughts

Babbling through my ever so

Cautious mind. Should I

Delve into your world of

Erupting crazy

Fissure red-hot emissions or slide through to the

Glaciers on the other side of

Halt to the three four?

Inquiry mind of mine

Just needs to

Know am I as appreciated as your

Lust, love:

Makes it seem.

Nodding your head in the heat

Of passion does not

Provide a justified answer.

Questions I do have the

Right to ask for my heart

Sake.

To keep me safe and for the sanity of my thoughts

Urging me to dissect the

Very deep core of your

Wavering attitude. I will

X-ray every emotion, every

Yearning my heart, my body gives before I get to that

Zone of comfort.