Life happened so fast,
and the phrase, "time flies"
became an enigma
that rang in my head, over and over.
Cascading into every one of my thoughts
daily, hourly, till it became a constant utterance that my subconscious cannot stop reciting.

“Excerpt from phases”

-

It’s a wonder how bodies as frail as ours are strong enough to withstand life's troubles.

-

Some days, the intensity of my mother's prayers keeps me awake at night. The resonant sound of her voice rising aggressively as she casts out demons, constantly reciting verses from the book of psalms, “The Lord is our refuge and strength, a very present help in times of trouble.” Her songs of victory fill my ear; the melodies settle in the spaces between my eyelids as I stare into the night.

Some nights, her resounding words recede into a gentle hum, and my worries find a way to replace them. My mind wonders, buzzing and ringing, like the flapping sound of wings from a colony of bees. Thoughts collide like tidal waves, crashing into one another, creating more ripples of thoughts, knotted and tangled, an endless array of words with bonds that seem unbreakable.

My tired eyes ogle at the night sky; staring into a cloud lined with mental pictures and visions about the future.

-

I thread my reality in a string of lengthy words,
Terming it fiction.
I clothe them in metaphors,
adorning with alliterations and antithesis.
I link them up in unbreakable bonds.
Auctioned, tossed into the wind as sentences.
Lines and equal verses.
Blue blood stains the page of my paper,
Litters of letters spill from my veins.
the pointy tip of my pen bleeds continuously,
In bold prints and writings.

My very existence broken into
bits and portions of parables,
Facts served as fables.
I tell my truth as tales, setting them assail
Rhymes and rhythms treading behind in trails
I offer my pains and aches
In lyrical expressions
Proffered in the language of illusions and
Recreated as imaginations.
Uncertainties offered as legions of questions
I put my life out in writings.
Embracing the healing,
And the therapeutic sensation that comes with.

-

Home isn't just four walls and locked doors;
home is where your heart is.
The soothing sound of a voice
that tells you it's okay not to be okay.
Fingers that stay to wipe your tears.

Home is a warm embrace in a cold world.
A shoulder to lean on when all strength withers.
Listening ears, eyes that do not judge.
Hearty smiles and shared laughter

Home doesn't have to be a place;
it could be a person.
Home isn't just four walls and locked doors;
home is where your heart is.
Home is where you find your peace.

-

Life is that poem you start,
with words dancing
in your head
to rhythmic tempos
of wild thoughts
and raging emotions

Letters
on a blank page

A masterpiece
on an empty canvas

Life is a dream.

Plans, pursuits
hopes and goals
that we all wish
to bring alive.

-

Last Sunday, my preacher stood by the pulpit,
With his white garment untainted and without blemish
His baritone voice rose, booming by the minute,


“Listen and obey. Listen again, Brethren;
Fornication is the highest of all immoralities;
keep your bodies holy.
Forget not; they are the temple of the Lord.”

Without using the word “hypocrisy.”
How do I explain the viral video
being passed around on Twitter,
The face-planted
on every gossip magazine cover

How do I explain how “a faithful vessel. “
got caught defiling his seven-year-old daughter.
How exactly do I explain the sight
of his pristine robe,
Soaked with her innocent blood?

-

I know you’re looking for the good in all of this,
I hope you find it.

-

I thread my reality
in a string of lengthy words,
Terming it fiction.
I clothe them in metaphors,
adorning with alliterations and antithesis.

I link them up in unbreakable bonds.
Auctioned, tossed into the wind as sentences.
Lines and equal verses.
Blue blood stains the page of my paper,
Litters of letters spill from my veins.
the pointy tip of my pen bleeds continuously,
In bold prints and writings.

My very existence broken
into bits and portions of parables,
Facts served as fables.
I tell my truth as tales,
setting them assail
Rhymes and rhythms
treading behind in trails

I offer my pains and aches
In lyrical expressions
Proffered in the language
of illusions and
Recreated as imaginations.
Uncertainties offered
as legions of questions
I put my life out in writings.
Embracing the healing,
And the therapeutic sensation
that comes with.

-

....As uncertainties
tug at the
nape of my dress.
I'm tempted to say,
"oh, it's all good."
Knowing that really,
It's not....

-