As the smoke lingers

In and out, of rehab

I mean, most of the time, no one quite speaks literally.

They don’t know, they can only assume

of what it takes to shatter a soul.

What robs you of your sleep, probably, maybe, most definitely, what do I know?

Fragmented  little puzzles, crossroads of the mind.

This piano, these hands, this rusty ol’ surface.

The out of tune, the mystery yet to swoon.

You can’t mold me, this telltale realm of space, my voice metamorphosed.

The margins within are so narrow, the wisdom of things scarce.

The fear of your own oblivion, you say you wait for nothing

but the gutless in you knows, that’s what you have been surrounded with

and so the familiar comforts in its veil.

This overflow of the conventional, makes me yearn for masks

aesthetically unacceptable, it amuses me.

The joyous music, the bitter tongue.

But then again, tenderness outburst,

defies brutal rage, beauty repelled at those that sought it only with their eyes.

You stare long enough at the gush, static motion

of paralyzing waves; this sonic rumble, and you understand.

The stronger they rush, the slower they recede

The dominance in the force, a halt in the hearts

In the eternity of a second, stretchered far too long, far too far.

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Memorabilia

Fear is induced, not intrinsic
‘One man’s trash, is another man’s treasure’
It’s a wave crashing the survivors
Death in itself a life, survival

The sound of the bugle
Lets you hold on to the feeling
Stunted growth, yellow leaves
An oak tree poisoned by your baggy sleeves

An old man counting his own wrinkles
He knows what he’s looking at,
A red carpet turning blue
A shiny armour, baggage rusted

The quicker you slay the demon
The more you tempt the alpha
The more calculated each growl; for territory
Under your den

You have created a shelter
For the wicked
You have sealed unread warnings
Without remembering their name

A name
A calling
And it’s their head that turns
When you applaud the random

Don’t rub it in, don’t praise the thumb
It’s the detailed print, embarking spaces left for the wild winds
Memorabilia
Sticky feet on the walk of Fame

The effect that makes you cringe
The lies that make you smile
Window shopping by the dead sea
Tasting nothing but salt

A mad dog, unleashed
Barking at its own reflection up the sky
The pursuit of a noble pursuit
Makes you lose grip of the moral

Raise your head, lower your eyes
‘Don’t look at me’
Looking at the enemy, makes you lose focus
Of the idea you’re defending

Cards unfolding, spreading at the turning table
A locker screaming open its own code
Jacks and queens, bow down to the Joker
It, unable to laugh twice at the same joke

Kiss their feet with your tongue
As if mint could ever cover the filth
Be a foul mouth, be absurd
Crossing the line, is not a literal term anyway

Trying to figure myself out, in others
Pictures capture your entire soul
Each shot a mystery of unlit rooms
Red flags are not alarming, they bring out the dangers whitin yourself

You don’t see seeds rupture as they bring forth a tinier seedling
Just tonight, they lit the underground world
With the birth of a no name
Another pretend, claiming to be an original…

Eyes wide open

Keep your eyes wide open

People indifferent to injustice

Should not plead against it

Gargling with salt water

Will fix your throat

But not your absurd speech, not your loaded tongue

Saving one life, saves the world entire

But killing oneself, is just killing yourself

A sack of pollen thrown at someone choking on asthma

Two vendors opposite each other sell their sport

Miser is he that collects the misery of the world

Like a coin permanently glued to the floor, fooling a tramp

An inferno built by the same hands that stroke a waxwing’s head

It wasn’t cleaning its beak, it was erasing your mistakes

It was sweeping off the dust from a hundred n’ fifty decks

Tell me again why I should paint my wall to cover a crack

School me again on how I need to watch my back

Damaged by arrangements between the sadistic and its fruitless well

Pull me up by the throat with a needle

Carve it in and pull it out

Take a pencil, show me how to spell my most intimate shout

Infamous praise

How many fingers should I count
Before I cut them one by one
I forget sometimes,
How some things don’t really re-grow


Just the other day
I was photographed with great admiration
In a cage
By a monkey
Who got so bored of its freedom
That it kept mine
I laughed
At how he fell
On banana peels he just ate himself


On nights
I shrunk and burst into fireworks
By chameleons getting tired of their own colours
Now white, now safe.
Had only albinos seen them, for the screams that curled their tails


Evenings passed,
I marveled at how a blazing sun
Took shade on all its pink
And mist
And chaos
Before going to sleep
Was this its way of telling
It wanted out?
If beauty and power and control
Didn’t make it want to live
Neither did I


I often lose myself
When sniffing on corners
Trying to allocate
Dust with dust
And perk with perk
I didn’t recall ever, catching pollen’s grin
So much had happened, it had forgotten its air, grain, trigger
And influence
Over those neglecting theirs


How naive was I
For the stain was on my face
And all my life, I spent tugging my mirrors clean


If you could view my face
From paper bags
And man made flasks
Would you find it funny
If I collapsed
On the floor teaching me dance?


Can somebody else ride this bike for me?
It can’t seem to stop
Pedaling away from me
As if
It wanted to escape
The rubber wanting to split
And the wheels fiercely brim
On fluctuating landscapes
It wanted to be
On its own


The hair
You tucked behind your ears
Felt like a slam on the door
By the secrets that rose ashore
that waves washed away.
Can I empty my pockets
With the stones I’ve been collecting
Trying to give them meaning over
Solid future?
Silly me, for most had gone
Through this pocket betrayed by a hole
They flew free from


And the whole world rose to its feet
When I kneeled down to my street
Too many times
Did I carve its walls
With battles I won but lost
I vandalized
And raged on meat
Using it as punch bag
To admit defeat
Far more
Did I cause alarm
Over my neighbours door
When I prank called his mother in the hospital
Telling her he was dead
I shot pigeons with creamed feathers
Because the view of their opened wings
Made me empty bottles
Which I later used to abuse
The wrists these veins explained their name on
Its dead end
Was all I kept clean
For I knew no matter what
It would still wait for me
And shelter me some sleep
And that’s when I dreamt of you
Like a nightingale with the bluest beak
Poking my head
Reassuring me
That the walls I tore down
Were already weak
They were replaced by height
That shooed away the floods
Nobody could have anticipated
That the meat I didn’t let my people eat
Was from cattle that they didnt feed
That the neighbours I disturbed
Needed to meet, all the songs they had produced
And sung
In reverse
That the flocks of beauty
I prevented everyone else from adoring
Blurred out all the skies
That had truly let them fly
And the empty bottles
Were my quill
When it wrote not on paper
But my skin


And just like that it rose
With a seed between its beak
To what I woke up
And found my distant home.

Fleeing from civilization

Civilization
Is just another developed version of wildlife
See, some people fit in
Like chimpanzees in a cage
And lions are the kings, who inherit a throne, by doing nothing
They don’t even hunt, it’s the lioness that keeps a family whole
I guess they just breed, and mark their territory
And roar at anyone who claims to walk their shadow

We have the fragile, we have the cunning
And we shoot the threats, to become a threat ourselves
How else would anyone take us seriously?
We need to mark our power

We want to preserve, habitats
We can’t even preserve our own
How easy do we scare
How easy it is to play
A game in which it’s us against ourselves
Terrified of going forth our own shells

Our imaginations run wild, we create
We break and mold
And mold and break
To form the perfect phrase
To use at the climax of a speech
To be heard through deaf ears
That’ll nod, cheer and clap
For everything they didn’t hear!

Then we have the rare species
Anyone ever sees
Anyone ever notices
They manage to live off
Of other people’s traces
That’s real genius, to crawl without even having to touch the floor
These did not belong, neither did/do they have to
They have a world of their own
I’d rather be among the weird
The queer
The sick, and demented
Than to torment another soul
Only for not doing as it’s told!

Pity the fool: make the giraffe prosper,

Marvel at what grows inside it, exquisite

As a straw too metres high
Dipped in juice two inches long
But I guess, it finally comes to terms
With the image its been given
Most of the time, its vision blurrs by clouds that think they’re pure
It can crush, anyone it wants to
It doesn’t
That’s not what they were made for
Their lives have a higher purpose
What would you know?
All you do is spit at frogs and think you’re prince charming!