Posted in Poetry


I am cast in this play
Through no choosing of mine.
Even when it goes awry, I cannot whine.
I have been told not to question the playwright
“Everything is part of His grand scheme.”
Forced to play a role I did not sign up for.
Expectations I would rather not meet
Have been tied to my feet,
And when I come, the audience
Expects them to sound a certain way.

I encounter many players
Each with a different storyline,
That could impact mine.
It is I, who chooses how theirs affect my lines.
They go as has been foretold
And get on with the show.

I too like them,
Am set to play my part
I can act the way I have been told
Or improvise and go with the flow
But I, am not in this script to conform.
Perhaps, I could write my own story
Choosing who I cast in my play,
Within the play.

I may not be on this stage for long
My frail light, will not last the next act
So I will empty myself
And give my all,
To put on a great show
And when my part is done,
The story will still continue without me
But I will be referenced
Because I was everything, but a mere player.
When the show is over,
You may applaud or boo me
Either way, at the end of curtain call,
My name would have been made.

Posted in Poetry

Mama Says There’s A God

Mama says there’s a God
Who watches over the weak,
And turns their bad days into a fruitful week.
Mama says there’s a God
Caring for the poor,
Whose love for us will ever pour.
Mama says I shouldn’t be scared
For it will be better, even if I am scarred.
I want to believe it’s true
But seeing Mama cry and the things we go through,
It seems there’s no God for Mama and I
If there is, we’re not the apples of his eye.
Mama says there’s a God
Then, He doesn’t like us very much.


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Posted in Poetry


Why make permanent plans?
When you know you’re not here to stay.
Your life’s but a cinder that eats away
When the wind kisses it,
Giving hints of your wasting away.
Every jump, every laugh
Every dance; every action
Sheds a piece of you,
Filling up your memory pool
For when you’re no more.

Why make temporary plans?
When I know I will be here briefly.
My life’s a vehement flame,
Burning violently against this world
That should light the paths of others.
So I’ll jump till I leave.
I’ll laugh till my light goes off
I’ll dance; and when my feet
Are too weak to move,
My eyelids, till they close,
Will move to the rhythm.
Every action, shreds a part of me
But I don’t mind.
I’m here to leave as many marks I can
And when I am spent,
The scratches I’ve made
Will be all that’s left of me.
Posted in Poetry


She hoped for a better life
But in her world, pleasure was rife
And her days were heralded with strife.
In childhood she was scorned
Teased and thrown against the walls of jokes
She felt out of place in her skin.
A camel in a dress:
A dwarf on stilts.
Wherever she went, she was pried upon.
Her fears rooted in disdain.
Life meant only one thing to her: pain.
Shame, that is her name.

Men veered their advances away
Women shunned her company
And children, she was the song of their jests.
People grimaced at the mention of her name
Others disbanded when she approached.
The devil’s child, they called her
Abandoned by the woman who bore her
Denied by the man who sired her
They could not bear the canker of raising such a thing.
No home would receive her
No friend to compliment her falsely
Shame: her name.

They say God drives away flies from the tailless animal
But some do not attract even flies
Mocked by the mocked
She was an island of rotten vegetation
No one wanted to occupy
Hunger was her perpetual bedfellow
In her prime she leaves this perfect world.
The society is free of such a blot.
Killed by the taunts of fellow men.
Murdered by the only friends she had: pain and suffering.
Destroyed by the distress she bore.
Misery: the cloth she wore.

In death there is consolation and rest
There she eventually finds peace.
No! There is no peace for her there either.
That serenity often spoken about,
She is left without.
There, under that stone she lies
Buried at night to cut all ties.
Treaded on by wicked feet.
Even in death she is tortured.
A fate worse than death
Most humans are too human to be humane.
Sorrow: her other name.

Posted in Poetry


Walk with me.
But let not your words be the leash that pulls me along.
Let your heart touch mine where words cannot get to.
My resolve, your actions and these little gestures will melt.

Step into the light
Sheath yourself from conscience.
Let the wind blow you towards it without a fight;
Desire steer you through the night.
Your face: a scintillating ambiance.
The outline makes one neglect
Lines from the Word I hate to reject.
Peel it all!
Oh leave nothing to imagination.
Let the breeze from this ready mouth lull
Yours to succumb;
Nuzzling it  numb
With sweet; none sweeter moist tenderness.
Soar with me into a rapture
None but our bodies intertwined
Has always determined.
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Posted in Poetry


I push you away intentionally
Knowing I love you.
I know I’m not supposed to fall
But here I am with shattered emotions
Yea, you warned me
That I’d fall for you
But I was headstrong

I know this affinity I clutch
Was not part of the plan
I have loved you since you touched me
Felt safe under your embrace
Your gaze has burnt holes into my heart
No one could fill.

I guarded my heart
Bound it with a lot of attitude.
See where we are.
I’ve succeeded in poisoning
My mind against love,
My derelict heart frantically insists on.

Driven you away,
Even though I yearn for you.
I’m too proud
Too afraid to admit
My longing for you.


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Posted in Poetry

The Mirror

I’m in awe of your love for me
Your patience when I get the way I do
Your unflinching loyalty
That juggles sanity with subtlety
Relentless desire to seek me in the dark
The selfless acts that I crave.
‘Cause if the shoe were on the other,
I would definitely cave.
I’m in awe of your love for me
‘Cause it’s never there.
I look at your inactions smitten
Knowing you have it in you to be good friends
But choose to turn in a good turn
With needless tips and passivity.
I let a lot of things slide
Cowering under the pretext of saving
A canoe only I paddle
Thinking I’m made of metal hide.
No one, certainly no one
Oght to addle
Good friendships with bad ones.
Each mirrors what the other does.
Then, I know there’re great ones
Who do not prevent ships from sinking
Nor disasters from happening
But pull one out of the mud
Dusting you off; washing the grime.
These unsung heroes need not be your best friends.
But they are the best friends.
They hold your hands through the thorns
Never letting go.
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Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized

I Stopped Trying

I stopped watching left, right and left again
I didn’t care if I was knocked down.
I stopped taking my medications,
Daring whatever was eating me up to get worse.
I was ready for the worst and didn’t care how I left.

I stopped having meaningful relationships
Afraid of opening up
And getting disappointed all over again.
I stopped exercising and checking my weight:
Nobody ever been too fat for the box.
I stopped talking about my plights
Not knowing how it’ll be taken.
I crave neither pity nor attention;
Because I stopped longing for something
That could never be there.
I stopped praying and begging for change.

I stopped trying because remission is just dormant relapse.