The Fruitless Life

The Fruitless Life

Down a dark desolate lane
devoid of colour
forever grey
to a railway where 
no one comes
except the tramps
who pick at decaying crumbs.
The fruitless life...

The streams dried up
drought has taken its toll
and what once was new
is now old
and you sit in the cold
youth half decayed.
The fruitless life...

First fruit no more
that blossoms sure,
for all has been swept away
all perish.
The fruitless life...

Shall I Pour into Me

Shall I Pour into Me?

yuh eva feel like seh 
the way how yuh dry
not even a river can quench yuh thirst?

draw from my well that never run dry 

when yuh try plant something
and the grung so tough
every tool you use
end up inna the bin?

draw from my well that never run dry

yuh eva try to figure out
how to dig a well
so deep
when a pure rock 
anda yuh feet?

draw from my well that never run dry

maybe some senna leaf
rhubarb root
to loosen tings up
mek things flow
the right way?

Well anyway I will find my remedy.

As the World Devolves

As the World Devolves

As the world devolves
fueled by hate
I will wait
try to recreate
the Eden real.

As missiles are launched
to rock and stripe
each person of their humanity
I will preserve our sanity.

Do you see this?
This is the key
our adinka of peace
As I ride my Sankofa
to retrieve
a promise left to die.

I must outrun the
this rabid wolf
White squall yapping at its heel

tearing everything it sees.

I avoid the holes
that could suck me in
and avoid the hell 
that could eat me whole.

But carefully I must
collect those stones
that gives life and not death.

Know Your Truth…

Know your truth and not what the world tells you. To live and live well, means knowing who you are and what you can do. To be small does not mean you are insignificant, it just means that you are at your limit and your efforts are immeasurable for where you are. These words are easy to write but very hard to live out. We want to make it big, want to be something big and ignore that size does not matter but what does is impact. To be localized does not mean we are trapped, does not mean we are rooted, but that we can concentrate all our resources, talents and expertise in a space that needs it, where it will have the greatest impact.

Sometimes chasing a dream because it has been taught as the ideal does not lead to bliss but perpetual nightmares that carry us further and further away from our center. It is so easy to be decentered by our willful desire to be exceptional, but we can be exceptional right where we are. Too many are waiting on the opportunity to be themselves to live their truth and give of their best. When we wait we allow time to dictate what we can be instead of us determining how best to use time to our advantage. It is a slippery slope down the hillside filled with good intentions that were never properly planted. And so the roots are shallow and cannot hold our weight.

We cannot depend on someone else’s vision board to arrive at our truth. That truth is theirs and should never be measured along side our specificity. We must instead find our own course and ride the wave to its predestined destination. Similarly, the words that someone else utters can never be forced fed to us by us, or others. For if we are to do this we will surely choke on them, because we will not be able to fit them properly in our mouth and down our throats.

Your truth is your truth and nothing will change this. There is no amount of wishing, hoping or prayer that will change this. Instead take the time to focus on shaping it as best you can so you can reap good fruits from it and not rely on hand outs or left overs.

Song in My Heart

Song in My Heart

So faint and distant
it comes from a ghostly realm
where dreams go to die
and are no more.
It beats out of step 
behind a moldy door
left to fester and perish
no oxygen given
a place where no hope liveth.
But the song
the song is in my heart
covered under all the cobwebs
have almost pushed it out
into the cold...
Then sings my soul...
The song hangs on
clings to the last thread of stubborn will.
Or maybe a Spirit?
But I must bring forth this song.
Oh the song!
From generational curses
I must unearth this song.
Oh the song!
From death and hate
I must dig up the song.
Oh the song!
The song
the song!
It refuses to die.

It changes shape and space
but it remains the same.
A symphony of strange sounds
proclaims its immortality.
It rushes out from the dark places,
requires me to sing victory.
Because this song will never die
neither will I.
It is perfect
it is true
it is faithful
All this also I must be too.
I must find my new
yellow brick road
to claim my song.
Lost to me But never forgotten,
but able to be restored.
My song-
only I can sing it -
the right way.
Oh the song!

From the Edge of Doom.

From the Edge of Doom.

From the edge of doom I stand.
Flames lick and caress my face
I can taste its essence
As my face drips with its lingering scent.
Just one more step
into a black void of nothingness
welcoming me home.
To step over 
I must get by the jagged edge of my conscience
that rebels
reminding me of my commitments.
But how do I escape this pain
of loss?
I do not know
I cannot tell.
I look behind
I look ahead
also nothing.
But maybe this nothingness ahead
will give me rest.
Take away the pain,

"whether you go or stay it does not matter
it's all the same - "

I must shake it lose
this beast that tries to devour me
telling me to move forward
over the edge.
Maybe there is still hope
whatever that is.
Like Lot's wife I am rooted
but I have looked back - 
I cannot bend my knees
so I stand and pray - 
As the flames mesmerize and thrill
I consider embracing the madness.
Should I give in?

"Who must I kill to find redemption?"

No one comes,
no one answers.
So I stand -
until I am pulled over by the flames
or drawn away by saving grace.

That Island

That Island

There the skies are always
crystal clear
Turquoise blue

The breeze blows in one direction
fate is always with you.
No one blocks your view,
your progress is guaranteed and your path way clear
because you have permission to shape it.

You need no doors to keep you  "safe"
nor to lock the dangers that never were there.
There are no secrets to spring at you
tear your integrity to shreds;
to leave the ground covered with your entrails
your dignity seeping slowly into  dust.

On that island you can truly be free - 
be alone
to thrive

The cool healing rancid water
cures all that the world has unleashed.
There is power in those waters.
From the brink of death you are made whole.

There is no fear
no enemy
no hate
only you.

That Island is your safe haven
it is you.
That island gives you power
that this world has taken.

Memories are everywhere,
momentos lovingly left for you to find.
To tell the real story of who you are
not created by human hands
but fashioned
by that Great One.

There is no time to abuse time
each moment is precious
each vital.
Each necessary.

There you will stay - 
for as long as you are meant to stay.
Not cut down in a murderous rage
of jealousy. You will stay.

As the wind ruffles hair too dense to penetrate
a crown too powerful to bring down.
as it massages away the knots
there, in that spot you will know peace.