Monthly Archives: July 2016

BREATHE

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Introspective

It’s nice to sing that new beat
Not just when drunk on milk and beef
Or high on smoke from that roasting rabbit
Meat so deliciously lean and stiff
As we gather round the heat
All of us dancing on the cliff
Thankful that tonight life is neat
And we are spared the gliff
Spared the terror and hit
That make us tremble like a leaf
Tearing us bit by bit
Ain’t this life’s spiff
Biting us in the butt even on retreat
Never leaving like our very own reef
Driving nails into the sores of our feet
Darkening the core of all our belief
Setting up pins for us on our seat
So nauseating is this life’s whiff
Monsters parade this life’s gloomy street
Even when silent we hear them sniff
Causing terrors that make our hearts grit
These life’s fairy-demons meet us with a biff
They greet our joys with a slit
And spare us no tiff
Leaving us a ghastly bloody treat
So when we get some relief
We are thankful for the feast
Giving the Creator glory without miff
And smiling as we lie tonight each on his bedsheet

Resting In Peace!

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INTROSPECTION (songs for plath)

Someone I know presented this at a book club, and something about the content made me decide to share, as I told him.

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I

My heart is a tomb where hope comes to live,

I go to parties of happiness to breathe,

I inhale all the light around me

and leave the parties when it gets dark,

too dark for men to see

without stumbling into the sadness.

Too dark to feel for lighters that lift the souls of men high.

 

I watch their fears colliding from a distance,

I giggle.

 

II

On quiet days

when there are no songs left in my lungs,

I write.

 

I like to write stories of women that died

while embracing life-

firmly

women we thought had too much of her in them

but we never cared to look beneath their skins.

 

On autopsy,

the pathologist said he found castles living inside them,

Castles that echoed whispers.

 

III

There are nights when I dream;

 

I am a bird, carrying happiness within my beak

Flying towards a nest I do not know.

 

I never get home.

An angry storm breaks my beak into two,

happiness dissolves into a stream of darkness.

 

I wake up screaming.

Sweating.

 

-OLUAFOLABI