Let thy will be done

Sometimes I forget you see

that I’m not a bastard anymore

I’m still a careless child

but I don’t have to live in disconnect

trusting no one for so long as taught me to believe

that I had to survive alone in isolation

I had to think faster, work smarter

I tend to forgot that I don’t need to trade secrets to survive

neither do I need to keep secrets to feel a spur

it slips my mind. it really does.

There are layers to this journey called life

and likewise are there stages of the mind

but the biggest bullocks is of isolation

that’s when the voices become audible

sob a little louder why don’t you

no one can save you

it’s a dark droughty forest

one slip and you can sprain your ankle

and smash your head

scream louder but you’re still alone

doch!

what a noodle brain I have been

to forget I’m not alone

I had a father, and will have one for eternity

sometimes he breaths stillness in me

most times he prefers I move recklessly,

stumble on a table in a near psychotic episode

and he hears me loud and clear

he sees me when I visit our secret place

I forget sometimes that this place even exists

It needs a little spring cleaning, some home decor

but he’s there waiting

he sees my pain and replies, “it’s a process”

he gives me space in the darkness so I can ponder

that understand that there’s nothing truly there for me

I may scoff and curse, but in the end I utter the same words,

Father, let thy will be done.

Art has to be

Humanity believes

that art has to be beautiful

like a Hummingbird basking under the sun

and art has to be unique

like meteorites dissecting the sky in brillant shades

art has to be pure

like amethyst re-crystallised in an open furnace

art has to be in Galleries

like the cherubic oil on canvas in the louvre

art has to be worth millions of pounds

like a wedding ring made from dinosaur’s fossil

and art has be created by genius

like Yiruma on his Compose of “River flow in you”

I believe

that the source of art is most impure .

It is dirty

It is unbecoming

and it could be worth nothing

but most of all, I believe

true art is a journey to enlightenment

It summarisizes a story that is told

through the eyes of one person,

it’s creator.

Smile a little because, you’re art.

Pisces fever

Talk in my face with a smile, with a smirk

I would never control you like that

cry me a river so I can drown you in it

It’s so good, it’s so bad. I can’t decide

all the wavelengths that’s crosses my head

I am tired. I’m tired of mistakes I keep choosing to fix

Chose your words very careful around me

come in my space but leave that energy outside

I DGAF if you think you know everything

Cross me once, I say oh no shame on you

cross me twice, you’ve got voodoo in your name

hell hath no fury like a woman scorned

I say nothing and you peg it for weakness

I’m ghosting right now , you can join me or leave

You can’t sense my vision so let me do it all by myself

I don’t like you today, maybe try me tomorrow

depends on which of me you met today

I don’t mean to hurt you but I will if you let me

I’m artsy. I’m empathetic. I’m pisces

I can be just whatever I want

please hold back your opinions and doubt

I’ll never say I told you so to your face

I’ll never look to your eyes and say you were wrong

but if you’ll play games, I’ve got a license to play

Thanks for the advise but I’ll take it from there

drop all manipulative tricks at the door

grew up around it so I can smell it from miles and miles

Don’t ever, don’t ever try to control me

Don’t ever, don’t ever try to lie

I’ll forgive you but know you are dead to me forever

I don’t mind being hated for me

but I hate being being misunderstood so much

love me or hate me but please don’t misunderstand

I love you today but I can’t guarantee tomorrow

take me as I am or just leave me alone

I know i’ll be fine with or without out you. it’s all the same

No, It’s probably best if you leave

you’ll probably offend me if you stay

blunts make better friends than people anyways

I say nothing but I can feel every little thing

been crying all day but I don’t know what’s wrong

this whole solar system just loves to play on my nerves

Sit back and observe everything around me

many will come my way but there’s room for just one

what can you do for me that i can’t myself

Don’t ever try to make me face reality

i’ll get things done in my pace, in my time

i’m not put together, Neptune knows I’ll never claim to be

I started writing this and i couldn’t stop

it’s got me feeling some airy type of way

Can’t put it to words but pisces fever is a vibe.

you

I find it a bit comish

that I had to leave you to miss you

when we were together

I cursed you with every morsel of my being

you caused me many tears

not physically ofcourse, it was the feelings you stirred up

the feelings that made me want to lock myself in a shark cage

at the center of the earth and be there alone

lost. forgotten. dead

waiting for my fossils to be dug up by anthropologists eons later

it’s funny how much I love you now

how much I yearn for you

I never experienced this side of you

nor this side of me

it’s like scales have fallen from my eyes

and i’m beginning to peel a new layer of you

different from what I’ve been used to before

and I hope you feel the same way too

that you can feel a part of me

you can see me, as a whole

not a half-blood you loved to loath

me, for not only who I am

but for who I am becoming

oh my I hope you do

because I want us to remember each other

not for the past

but for every waking moment

I’m imperfect. say you can appreciate my mess

and I’d be lucky enough to see yours unfurl too

Love, Your former muse.

Free in the emptiness

Can we be empty for a day

can we meet back in the embers

that stirred our soul like wild forest fire

folding us into an empty space

far from the reach of salvation

Do you remember your freedom

can you forget your slavery

two words juxtapose themselves at extreme poles

Fear at the equivocal end to freedom.

freedom doesn’t begin without fear

Where did your soul wander

in the midst of so much darkness

why did the music stop

just when the encore was getting louder

when will the cycle of self-sabotage dwindle

For the free woman

for the feeling of effervescence

for the cynical soul

that don’t want anything in particular

and are not quite sure of what they’re looking at

until they see it set free in the emptiness

The process

I tried many times to explain how it works

but really there is no formular to solve this

the mess is alway supposed to be ugly

Something you should hide from everyone that knows you

if they see it, you feel guilty. if they don’t, you feel guilty

you don’t tell anybody and you nurture fear

now there is hole, borrowed so deep you can’t see the end

this all started with your perception of the mess

look at the mess you’ve made

you’ve harvested a basket of regret

i can’t speak right, and i cant laugh right

but the mess could be beautiful too

i don’t need these guilt

i don’t need to worry about others beliefs

it’s the process of unravelling your mess that straps you tighter inside

like a fly struggling in a Venus fly trap

but you could see it as a person

let it know you’re still afraid but this phase will pass

as long as we live, there will always be new messes to process

better to work with it than to push against

there’s never been a formula for it

I am a mess, but i’m beautiful still.

A Thousand Desires

A thousand days hold a thousand desires

folded deep in the solace of their palms

the longer I live, the more I yearn

to melt the ice that stores my desires

Humanity has taken away my compassion

replaced it fragile threads of apathy

I rented out my praiseful soul

to be a prisoner to karma’s undoings

My lust for power

has everything to do with life seductions

I blink so the viel that clouds my vision

may fall into the a furnace of enlightenment

Everyday I contemplate these Alexandrian dreams

unbidden treasures that pierce the clouds

Naked are the desires that caress my eyes

separating me from my soul’s deepest connections

How anxiety feels like

He gave me this load to carry

it weighed heavy and left me winded

in my ribcage, my heart ached and slowed

all the while robbing me of my speech

It was several rough hands grappling at my neck

A reality that costed me my libido, my stamina, my cash

doubt was running down my face like sticky mascara

in the face of adversary, I pretend to be everything I’m not

It’s like my shadow was polluting the street

and my hymn was that of a debby downer

on one side life was handing out subtle coloured roses

on my end, I had sunk deep into dung

Cock. Screw. Trigger

eagerly waiting for a mail that ends it all

soon I realise, I can’t serve two masters

I’m left roaming like a wild cat

Today ends and tomorrow begins

but my anxiety stayed constant variable

realising how expensive joy is

even though I answer to it’s call

They said it’ll get easier, it hasn’t but i’m still here

how do you know when you’ve hit rock bottom?

when you can’t estimate the well’s depth?

It’s like a deaf married to a deaf and birthing a deaf child—– no really

That day will come, some day

I’ll forgot the worry lines that creased my brow

the tightening grip on my neck will vanish

the road i chose will become more familiar

Then I will be willing to speak.

People say

People said

the world is flat

has four edges and a strap

Gravity is only a myth

People say

life can exist without love

work all day and pay the bills

lest you sleep under the bridge

people say

it doesn’t matter how you lived your life

the day you die is more important

their insipid hearts glazed over

people say

work and till and earn your bills

go the streets and squander it all

all in a bid to fit right in

people say

there is only one way, ours or none

Only one god, ours or none

rebuke it and you’ll walk the plank

people say

wear mink coats and leather shoes

Your stone cold blinks must blind others

when you die, we’ll judge you still

people say

love yourself just as you are

and if you don’t, go under the knife

but when you die, we’ll judge you more

People say

all kinds of quatsch

pretend they care, yet judge all day

helping each other dig their grave.

People spend all night in the church

shake and tremble under the alter

roll around in dirt and dust

leave that place the same they went

People preach to you at end

You should live your life this way

then lock their doors and do the opposite

while you weep and wonder what’s wrong with you

People judge the dead for how they died

spit and dance on open grave

never mind the way they lived their life

then yell, I am christian.

I’ve learnt to smite what people say

their hearts overrun with wickedness and spite

smile in your face, judge behind your back

the only One to trust is Yahweh

The Gladiator

When the gates swung open

There stood a masterpiece

In the guise of an Alien

he hummed a soft hymn of hope

Tho’ the birds chirped awfully loud

he remained the center piece

lean shoulders raised proud

like a gladiator in Ancient Greece

The drums drowns out his voice

his calloused feet are weary

but this was his predestined choice

A final hurray before he was too feeble to carry

With all his might he raised his sword

like excalibur reflecting the glazing sun

That day, freedom was going to be restored

but he knew, this was not his day to win

The crowd roar louder like never before

The center piece’s hibiscus is wilting

The birds chirp louder, a warning of sorts

the sword hits the dust, the end of war.

Alas! the gates are closed

He awaits the satisfying singe of release

The gladiator’s heart is tossed aside, necrosed

brought to his knees by an unrepentant disease