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.

Family bonds

I don’t know when I stopped

being my father’s daughter

perhaps I was tired of grappling at expectations

of using my blood to paint someone’s incompetent ego

I don’t know when I stopped

being my mother’s friend

perhaps I was tired of accommodating excuses

of staring at an epitome of disappointments

I remember when I stopped

being my brother’s sister

We ran and played till a fuse went off

I worry that spark may never connect

I don’t know when my prudent sister transformed

she says it was during Grandma’s death

Her light went dim as if she were dead too

she could only come out a different person

all I know

For as long as I have lived

Family has been the strangest bond

It runs deep only to evaporate like butane

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.

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.

Beard eye

Captain Beard eye is not like any regular pirate you’ve heard about before

He’s not a scruffy vulgar scallywag like the other sea robbers in the high ocean. He didn’t steal treasures or have an eye patch. He didn’t even have a seagull that gawked on his shoulder from sun up to sundown .

He didn’t squander his nights on laudanum and flute.

No beard eye is not like any pirate you’ve ever seen

His sailing ship was the whole earth. He’d would sail the earth through stormy waters. If sailors fell overboard, he’d send a rescue boat . With intentions purer than the fresh water he sailed. Sometimes the sea was foggy because the sailors disobeyed his commands, but that didn’t distract beard eye from his goal to teach them to love each other and him.

A night came during his adventure in the North ocean, A whirlwind struck the water into a violent storm, threatening to drown his crewmen. The sailors cried and whimpered and wailed. “Gather your courage men, the Lord our God will save our lives” Beard eye commanded. Some of his cabin boys hid under the rescue boats, while others contemplated drinking mercury.

But Beard eye held the wheel firm in his hands, and his tobacco pipe firm between his teeth. He sailed the boat as fast as his could, even though it had begun to sink. The crew had lost all confident in him. But soon, the ship was gliding from wave to wave because of the speed. Beard eye neither slowed down or wavered. And just like that the sails could touch the clouds. The sailors couldn’t believe their eyes. Perhaps we are dead, they mummered amongst themselves. But Indeed, the ship was flying over Africa. It landed somewhere in the Indian Ocean.

Hence, Beard eye became not only the most famous pirate in the heavens and the earth, but will be the most respected name for generations to come.

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

A Sinner’s Prayer

Forgive me o’ Lord for I have sinned

You’ve heard this a million times

it could be tattooed to my lips

I head right at every possible turn

even when I know volcanic rubbles lie awaits

I’ve condemned my self all my life

better me than you I always say

better to start walking the grave than hope for life

for what has hope ever brought to the hopeless

what has life brought to a begger

I am a refugee at best with sticky hands

I know how to stop but I don’t know when

I think today is the last time but it never is

what has hope ever brought to a sinner?

I head right at every crossroad I come

Past the forest, deep into the woods

running up the hill that snakes at every turn

Forgive me o’ Lord for I have sinned

unfortunately it won’t be my last confession either

I’ve heaved and whined and rolled in mud

I say “it is well”, we both know I don’t mean it

I’m thankful for every chance of redemption you offer

and condemn myself every time I fail

better me than you I always say

what hope in life is there for a person who may know left?

Earth’s art

It is impossible to read a book

whose pages have never been opened

some of mine has got sands between the pages

and shaggy dogged ears

because I scribbled words I couldn’t speak

and watered-down thoughts I couldn’t share

The song of my dreams is but a cacophony,

a mixture of voices that drowns purpose

sometimes a ghost serenades me with karaoke

other times I’m enchanted by a siren’s hymn.

I scribbled dried blood on my sleeves

you’ll need a kaleidoscope to view my art

It is elusive even in umbra lighting

But it is enough the way it is

because I was made in Earth’s treasure chest

where no two narratives are the same

Keeper of Peace

I’m like a daisy in a pond

nourished on all sides by an ever-flowing waterfall

feet rooted between the vegetation

unmoved neither by smallest algae nor the largest predatory

Troubled water silenced by peace, piece by piece

the air is densely saturated with the truth

the pollens on my skin are like an armor of righteousness

and faith is the music I swim to

I am like a plush bear on a playground

with one button eye, the other digesting inside a kid’s belly somewhere

still the smile on my face is in-erasable

when I think of the shield of the holy spirit i yield

you see this world outside is harsher still

like med school, it’s never easy

but we’re still fighting

because of a father who polishes my replaced button

and it is so, we’re still and waiting

praying for grace and strength with each waking breath

The prints we made yesterday guides into tomorrow

enlightening our journey into sanctuary of the keeper of peace