Happy to announce that I have officially published my first book titled HIS WORDS. HIS EMPIRE. HIS REIGN – now available on Amazon. Few words can truly describe the feeling – of being so raw and honest and vulnerable on paper – but that’s always been the beauty of poetry – it speaks for you and through you. Years of writing summarized in a few pages. Emotional roller-coasters and flowery sentences. Personification of the human soul and experience.
All on paper.
Get yourself a copy 🙂
I saw them burn him alive!
I saw fire latch onto his clothes as if it belonged to him. I saw smoke enter his lungs, denying him of life. I saw them throw petrol on his body. I saw his eyes intensify in pain as the fire grew. I saw his eyes tell a story no one listened to. I saw his body drop to the ground. I saw his hand reach out to the sky, as if heaven would open, and God would latch on to his soul, like fire did to his clothes. I saw his blood become one with the soil, as if it belonged there. I saw his body turn to ashes, except for the bones. I saw life and death in the singularity of a moment. I saw the police drive by, with sirens on their white Toyotas. I saw them salute the man who had started the beating. I heard the police say that was the rightful punishment.
For anyone that speaks against the government.
Piece inspired by: anyone who has fought for truth and freedom.
Recommended book reading: #1984georgeorwell
Wear my poetry.
On your skin.
Recite parts of me.
On your stretch marks.
Carry my sensuality.
On your tongue.
Speak.
Only about us.
Of my Ubuntu lips.
Sun kissing.
Hot.
Seductive breathing.
Breathe in.
Our moments.
In every line.
Surprise me …
Tell your father you aren’t his.
Anymore.
Pack your belongings.
Recite me.
In every crevice.
Unwrap time.
As you fold.
Bags.
Heavy.
Like my body.
Unpacking sweat.
On yours.
Drown in me.
In every rhyme.
Wait for me.
On Beale Street.
Trace your ears.
One last time.
Whispers.
From me.
Sweeter.
Than honeymoons.
Tell your mother.
I am coming.
To take you home.
Reading challenge – I
To whatever gods inspired this list, I am forever indebted.
Progress:
– Currently reading ‘The Thing Around Your Neck’ – Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie.
Read the first of the series here.
She walks through,
Roads filled with street signs and scars,
Of graffiti and tattoos on walls,
Sex symbols and misery in red,
RRUUN,
She knows not to stay,
She knows not to become one with the darkness of the night,
She knows not,
Of prostitutes and pimps that turn their hustle into songs,
And force strangers to sing,
9 p.m,
The streetlights flicker,
10,
The silence falls,
Schizophrenic,
Yet the voices go,
The clicks of heels hitting the ground,
Sing me to sleep,
Baby,
1036,
She paces,
Not slick on the gas pedal,
He notices,
Through the rear view mirror,
Through the iris of a sinner,
Through instinct,
He reverses,
Slick on the gas pedal,
She falls,
Legs confused by the pulse of fear,
Legs confused by the head games of her stilettos,
1035,
He steps out of the car,
1036,
His steps are quiet,
1037,
The stillness of lust masquerading as innocence,
1037,
Heavy,
The weight of his presence on her skin,
1037,
Heavy,
She feels undressed by the ghosts of his hands,
Heavy,
She feels herself shaping into the arc of his desire,
And breaking,
Sing me to sleep,
Baby,
Chills of the devil’s voice,
You are one of them now,
You are one of the girls.
