Maybe Eternity is just a concept, Maybe one day everything will end, Maybe in a couple hundred years, The universe will no longer be our friend. Everything we know we knew would be over, Can you imagine that, City lights and happy memories, Will all just fade to black. It’s funny how we think we’re so powerful, Yet we’re just hanging by a thread, By physics laws that if one day brocken, We will all be dead.
A treasure full of dreams A future wrapped in gold What our indecisions bring Within each box that life will hold Hidden in the square Amongst the corrugated seams Is more than just thin air And the light from distant beams There are memories we have known Within the box that cannot part Like the flowers that have grown Just to touch a gentle heart Upon these feathers within a box I shall sleep on them tonight And to the ticking of the clock I shall dance the angel’s flight Says the label dressed in red, “Never touch what’s in the box” So many thoughts run through my head Of all the moments we have lost Michael 8/5/2021
As she floated through the air She looked down on all she loved as if she didnt have a care Death betrayal and pain All emotions that drove her insane Her legacy she wants to instill in all to be better than most Now she is her own worse ghost You see she always did the opposite of all she said To her but not most her most valued accomplishment is that she is dead She was jugde by all as she tried to stand her grounds and be true to the morals she set As there stare grew bolder and there words direct and hateful she felt death was her only bet So she closed her eyes took the blade and stabbed herself in the chest Praying that god knew her heart best As the blood oozes from her white shirt all she feel is relief And now that shes gone she leaves thoses she loved with her beliefs Everyday she graced this earth with her present she was haunted by her memories that was drowing her in a sea of tear Her biggest regret is not that she lived but that she lived her life in fear As her body was lifed to the ceiling the darkness that once ironically consumesd her was replace with a light And as she moved closer to the light it became so bright There was a voice that she had heard many times beore Telling her this wasn't the end and choose the other door She heard the message loud and clear and vowed to do right And even on her darkest day she remain true to the light Because on that faithful day she died she really literary died however was born again Not to live a life of hell but to do her best and at the end of her road know that when darkness and despair set in she will always win
Everything around is spinning My head can't focus. My body is tired and my mind is crying. But I am still smiling because I know time will change and the silence in my heart keeping focus for a better day.
The time has come to pass. The hours sound the chime. How do you write such pleasing words that our time has come to rhyme? The smiles that show your heart. The eyes that calm the sea. How do you find the time to love all of the things that rhyme with me? And just like me your bird is free to spread your wings and learn to fly. What is the cause that makes you flee each time that life comes passing by? We are just a plan that life is making. The first romance that’s ours to share. The time has come to rhyme what matters, within the heart that bleeds despair. Come to me now and follow my dreams that uncover the pieces born of the past. The time has come near to make a new change, and untether the slave you have held in your grasp. With each moment I write I am thinking of you. And every word that I rhyme you are near. It is my hope to rekindle a time we once knew, before the heart of true love disappears. Michael 7/10/2021
Bullet for bunting. What's in the word, That the mouth fit not say. I wield my ink, bleeding words like fire. Fighting to shave off the frailty you plunged on me. You used to be unique, very ineffable. Never knew I was being deluded by wishful thinking. I fought your fight, abate your fears. Rather than return a thousand thanks, you fired me with a cacophony of bullets. You inhaled the oxygen of my love, While I search in perusal for answers. Your words, monotonous, left me in a muddled state. Like a bullet for bunting, I never saw it coming. © Ifediata Kosisochukwu
the santan dew crawls out of the stalk if you break it apart from the bush suddenly it burns brighter than dust small grand doors tiptoed to kiss their frames held by hinges, but try to reach north alas, their fates are back and forth there’s a somnolence to homes that are not yours holed with metaphors you never explored to tell your throat is for similes or possibly something else i wonder if wells hear wishes or if they are mere echoes of aired fulfillment perhaps that’s why the well water only gets to see the sky even if i bury my fingers beneath the soil, i am no root. even when i draw lines on the sand, i make no shore.
sycophantic silhouette stalks into the room and the woman who casts it brings death, immortal doom she bids disguise fall when the man sees her through never a dame, but bluegreenbrown eyes, same as you you, who lives their life by ritual, routine will never see the cold, red blood or the glistening sheen of sweat on the brow of a new, soft corpse or the embers of the flame that drive you north your cadence keeps you pliant, your rhyme bids you no further! what drove you to this, to poetry, to murder? as the blade bids adieu through the back of his skull and the red of his head grows increasingly dull and the light bleeds out of the sword in his eye ‘any woman can see him orgasm, but how many see him die?’
I feel like an empty vessel cast away The only thing that hits my hull is the slap of a choppy wave I have no crew on board they all found the challenge to much The cargo I have is overflowing from deep within my hull The milk has soured & the whey of the milk is all I am able to smell I once was loved in such a way, the strength of it filled me up I know it is hard to see not that I am old & withered up The way she pulled me towards her, like there was always a rope connecting us The feeling this gave to me is far too much to describe I know that is is hard to see now that my ropes have frayed away The sails are saggy, no wind will fill them up My rudder seems to be broken, around in circles is the only way it goes I fill with dizziness, that is all too much & reminds me of the day the love went away I know I will never dare love again, this old hull can not handle it all again So I will keep going in circles seeing the same thing There is no joy, no crew to fix me up. The old milk, in the old vessel has been left on its own The stench will never leave.
"Oh, weep for Vietnam! The sick dreams Of passion-winged Ministers of War Who sent boys in, who never living streams Nor ripe rice paddies crossed to get their star. Their Draft which made men fodder, blundered not— Wonder no more, tho' sixty thousand slain, But fly there, where they fell; and mourn their lot Round their cold hearts, where, after their sweet pain, They ne'er will gather strength, or find a home again.'' ~ After Shelley, ELEGY TO KEATS
Often at times, I find myself at war with my own mind, Unable to accept that that I'm unable to accept that I am but a speck of dust, Wandering aimlessly, Crashing into everything that I'd eventually grow to love, Then wandering off in search of someone who would eventually break my heart into a million tiny pieces until I'd convince myself to just give up, But our species, For better or for worse have an unwavering ability to persevere, So I tuck myself beneath this dirt seeking only solace from that which left me questioning everything, Until one day I push past the debris and rubble, a stock with a shadow, And with each and every passing day, I feel the life and love growing and shaping me into a stronger version of the person I abandoned in the grave I call these sheets just the day prior, For no pain will silence me, No discomfort will ever extinguish that which sets my heart on fire.
A doctor told me ten years But You will have all of mine
quite literally they cannot spill out of my mouth into the toilet bowl fast enough green, neophyte, insensate swirling around in the clear, shallow water, they almost look like they are swimming ancient, ferric, turpentine its midnight on sunday afternoon and the morning never felt so far away verily, salt, halcyon pulling the lever, they swirl away, the letters sloshing together into a murky soup gestalt, vermilion, fear they turn into equations with no solutions when i bring my hand away from my mouth, wiping ouroboros, nineteen, baseless i know better than to brush my teeth golden, gale, corridor i know better than to go back to bed right after demilune, murmur, mirror linoleum, throat, nightgown listless, lucid, dreamer
holding the box between two fingers so it does not fall the hand is not pandora’s; she has been dead for centuries inside the lid, an amateur’s attempt at a cumulonimbus the sky behind them greener than the clouds before a tornado the clouds themselves whiter than the dust after what will become of the box? will it house bangles and bracelets and small forgotten memories? will the hinges rust and the sky become separated from the ground? will it ever find its way home?
Obsessions What power you hold over me... Every action, every thought Is just a push in your direction Feeding into the obsessions, Lost connections, misdirections, Absolutely positively coerced into these affections By a brain constantly seeking tiny moments of perfection. Though you kind of must admire this curation of adoration, All the mental efforts required to keep up the constant cultivation Of this undisturbed fixation, The impropriety and distraction of a single-minded meditation, All these mind-numbing, pacing, clock-like rotations Theoretically leading this obsessive mind to pure elation, The uninhibited fruits of this persistent dedication. Happy sighs and exhalations... But then... The sobering realization That somehow life existed before this shrine’s erection And perhaps the cracks start to show, Unexpected but apparent imperfections, Initially denied and resolutely rejected, The shattered shards of a crystal ball that disagrees with my projections, The deflation, depletion, extortion Of my vexation, Maybe leading to complete and utter exoneration... The disintegration of my fascination. Maybe someday... But for now I prefer to float in my comforting contemplations, Giving in to the infatuation, These happy delusions of my mind’s incarceration. And if the worst this should cause is These false exhilarations, Then I shall stay here for a while And enjoy the scintillating sensations Of my obsessive ruminations. A Temporary Salvation.
Writing one hundred pages, It turns out to be permanent makeup, Not exactly an act of nature, Rather products of one's labor, Tattooed to the skin with lasers. Other people, Other places A number of changes, fables; One's mind, the world adjacent. Fine, just fine, Never find time, Why bother in the prime of life, When eyes stretch beyond the tide.
When you touch the water, Do you feel it's wetness? When you make art, do you ask, How far is the sunset? Like a squirrel along the fence, I hope I never dash to the end.
If you Really Saw Me What would you do if I told you all my secrets? The ones pulled from deepest trenches, darkest corners. Scraped them like the drippings of my innermost self Onto your proverbial plate Would you push them all back? Demand a reverse regurgitation Of all that was ugly in me And pretend you never saw Would you sift through my soul? Stir a fork through all that is me, Looking for the parts you can use, Discarding the rest Would you shatter the plate against the wall? Shards of me on display for all to see, Lay me bare in front of the eyes of the world And laugh at the tears streaming red down my face Or would you love me just the same? As my inner enigma bleeds over the porcelain edges As you see all the sides unseen Would you smile at my uncloseted skeletons? Would you hold my empty vessel self and fill me with the light, the love, my soul needs? What would you do if I told you all my secrets?