Tag poems with deep meaning
for shooting practice
by white skins who think
it wise to destroy
the devil -in black-
We didn’t beg to be broken
into breaking news
scattered into lobes of
juicy stories on CNN, BBC
like propitiatory kolanuts
This time he dragged her down, bound with him Clutching they spun inhaling, plunging in Needle tight breaths, she smacked and fought back Against his tourniquet grip, she slipped free in slack Necked gropes as he grasped her hopes and crushed As burning, they spiralled, kicking then hushed
Are our differences all we can see?
We’re similar in ways but we’re not the same,
And is that really a flaw, something to blame?
We think like that is true, but we act like that is deceitful.
And tell me this, is one gender greater than the other?
If so, what has your sister done to be better than your brother?
squinting eyes
behind curtains netted
faces onto the street
to snare a fresh gossip
smeared by a bad mind
carelessly harming
him or her
play – staged a small street
a clean name…linen hall
he calls out yet you pull the trigger regardlessly.
What bothers you more is his skin,
not how you live heartlessly.
Don’t shoot,
she cries out knowing her precious child did nothing wrong.
Now you can add him to the list of
lives prematurely gone.
twenty-six figures muddled together,
pieced until satisfaction is complete.
Words are nature with no sound,
for how can we appreciate the warbler’s song
when we do not listen to the lyrics?
Formidable enemies with intentions so unclear.
I am forced to sit down, to listen and respect
Their unceremonious chatter and values they reject.
One wears a halo, glowing like the future:
White robes, golden smile — heavenly composure.
This one’s got vows and rules that I must follow:
Ways of ensuring that I have a tomorrow.
Knowing that nothing in your life is real?
The world, and you, are just so fake,
How does it feel to be something that you hate?
Wake up and dread your existence,
(I know you do)
Burn all bridges to create some distance,
(Life’s hard to get through)
The whereabouts of your mind are anybody’s guess,
Wearing nothing but a smile, you look so well dressed.
Of populous populations,
Supply is often halted beyond the womb
And should a child make it
To the densely packed production line,
There are no lifetime guarantees
No best before, or after birthday dates
Supply outcries demand.
But demand increases should you move
Within the factory floor,
Be placed onto the packaged line
“First World”
Or stamped and wrapped:
“For Family Wealth”
is the first day of the rest of your life
Tomorrow is an adventure in the making
Yesterday is a memory of
a moment we cannot return to
Even if we wanted
What’s done is done
All we can do is learn to accept it and
move forward graciously
Time waits for no man
And no man achieves by waiting
