Footsteps on mud

They are derelict structures
Inhabited not even by flowing air
They are tongues that osculate
With no one but themselves
Their eye's feast
 are pneumatic bodies
As Their hands work to mould, towers or poles of pleasure
They are worshippers in bodies
Made as shrines
Their hearts are burning candles
And passion is the incense.
Coil.
Recoil.
Ululate.
Their lips sing glossolalia
While their chests seeks room to breathe into
They precipitate slowly
Like mistmag
Then they find themselves the ground,
when they find that no wine
Or product of the vine
Holds the joystick to their brain
It was them all along
All trampled upon
There's many footsteps on this mud.
El Romantique

The Inevitable

Isn't it funny?

How most of humanity are not scared of death

Or the manner in which they'd die

But are rather terrified of how life will go on after they die.

Fugacious moments when few tears will be cried and that's the end.

Ephemeral seasons when few hearts will bleed, then be healed

And their names will be whispers, till it's heard no more

And all that'll prove they existed would be their handmade chapbooks

And the memory of them will be evanescently dried off

Like the morning dew on chaparrals..

Isn't it funny?

How mankind doesn't realize, death is not the only thing that's inevitable?

That the clock will go on ticking is inevitable

That people will go on living is inevitable

That your dearest friends will one day go back to work, is inevitable

The fact that the stars will still glitter

and the birds will still sing

and the sun will still shine

and the lovers will still love

and the babies will still cry

and the teens will still party

and the singers will still sing

and the clowns will still joke

and the writers will still write

and your mother would still smile

is inevitable.

And you can't really blame the world.

For you'd do just the same

Be it, you were in their shoes
Nwokpe Precious

It will be fine.

Take a deep breath
Put your mind at rest
Feel the cool air around you
Allow your mind to flow with it.

See the good side of life
Allow your eyes to feel it
Are you still thinking of those negative thoughts?
OK. Let it out.

Cry it out
Scream it out
Until the pain is out
Until the sadness is over
Now open your mind to a new dawn
Let the darkness fade away.

Close the door of negativity
And open the door of positivity
Shut the door of sadness
And open the door of happiness.

Happiness and love
These you should hold on to
Feed your focus
And starve your distraction
Never lose your fight
Everything will fall in place.

Happy for nothing

So the radio aired that our lots in life had outweighed that of my friend Job,that bipolar the doctor said got our premolars older,yes! that our plans to make things better never worked out,yes! The hospitals had now become busier than the marketsquares,that our losses outweighed the gains life had thrown at us,oh yes!,that instead of breaking free,it was a resume of relapses,panic attacks,even doubting our existence, physically we look able but deep down we feel disabled. We forget we are still alive.

But I ask, when last did we kit up so well not for a function but to take a walk and observe our environment, take a gaze at the rhythmic flight of birds in the sky, watch the lizards fight over territories that humans walked past everyday.

Yes when last did we walk to the road, its middle, not for a suicide attempt but to sit and take a picture.
Oh yes! when last did we leave our minds empty for some minutes with nothing to bother us.

We forgot how to dance to the beats, we forgot we could still do the legworks,why? Because our minds had been accustomed to mood swings, getting sad for nothing.

If we can be sad for nothing, can't we be happy for nothing? If we could ask "Is life worth living?" couldn't we also answer why life is worth living? what if things get really better and our smile muscles have become atrophied and our frown muscles hyperthrophied. Would we have to hit the gym to fix it up?

But what if things stay the same till we had a taste of the real life, wouldnt we wish we had made a smile out of a reason for a frown? Let's make our enemy confused, he does deserve to be.The moody days will come, lets be happy for nothing today, tomorrow might never come, the key is there, you know where? RIGHT IN OUR HANDS, JUST THERE...


newest cul dude pens...
Dedicated to queen laka

Far from home

To the heart of a continent, there we shall set sail
We tried to protest but to no avail
Ours is a journey not of our will, for on it we wail
Row, row they scream and with whips they strike.
Our faces filled with tears, for we all look alike
Our fathers heads, pinned on spikes why? We are black
Food, clothing, this and many more we lack
Yells and abuses, screams all on our head, they say we are slack
If we fall asleep or faint they whip and say we are whack
Our spirits have been broken, we try to see our future, but it's all too dark
Our captors have no regard for us, to them, we're freaks
Monkey they call us at all times, and yet we have been starved for weeks
How long will the monkey labor without banana, as we beg to die
The young ones as consolation simply ask, God why?
Why did you make us this way, we never requested to be black
All we prayed for was to have a good life and make our mark
Now all we wish is "time, just turn back!"
We look back, in the general direction of our homes
We look back at our former lives that are now lost to us
With hands chained together, the only consolation we have is trust that our homes are not lost.
Some of us were sold, the majority of us were taken away by force
Our memories of home gradually fade away, we are forbidden to speak to each other, and that's the worst
Oppressed, dominated and scattered about, our heritage we have lost track
Bruised, broken, bleeding and sore we step onto the slave mongers market.
They tear us apart like wolves in a pack!
Oh! a foreign land we have come and here we shall die, for us, there will never be a going back




Southside TBM OrionArt