If I Died…

What would change if I died? What would be different?
How many would be sad? What would be the population at the riquelm?
Would the sun still rise the same? Would the morphology of laughters change?
Would anybody even feel a sense of guilt? Would there be pain? 
What would change if I died? Would my family have dinner that night?
How long would I be mourned. How many would envy my plight? 
Would my siblings go to school the next day? Would they learn? 
Would I be buried with my grandpa, where would I stand? 
If I died today, what would be different? What would be odd?
How I made an impact on lives or how people couldn’t wait till I met God? 
Would my classmates be sad? Would the school be quiet?
Who would give the eulogy? Would there be more than a minute’s silence?
How many will really miss me? How many will remember? 
Who would keep the date in May if I died in September
Who would not care? Who’d say “he deserved to die”
If I died today, dear friend, would you ever cry? 

Imagination

I hear a voice just behind me, but I’m certain it’s a figment of my imagination. I feel a hand touch my skin, but I’m sure it’s all part of the fallacy. I see your face,  your beautiful face, but I’m certain it’s one of your lies again. I feel like you finally do love me as much as I love you, but I know it’s all a front. What is ever real with you? When can I ever trust you again? 

Daddy

Baby, I hope you’ve not fallen for someone else
Baby, do you still love me like you should?
Petals rise and rains fall
Grounds are hardened and petrichor exudes
After I’m done and we see again, would we be spent like money?
If shit hits the fans, baby would you still love me?

A Time To Die

Hypothermia is what I was diagnosed with. Definitely promised death by my physician. I knew he was lying ‘cos all I felt was nothing but the warm September air around me, still colder than I was on the inside. But death wasn’t supposed to be warm unless you were heading straight to Hell, right? Laying still. Bed ridden, but still lying. Lying to myself. “I have a reason to survive”. My mind taunted me as my voice failed when my eyes beheld my petal die. I hum the tune I remember so vividly yet sounds so strange to my vocal cord. My grandfather’s clock…it was bought on the day that the old man was born…so it stopped, never to walk again when the old man died. My alarm goes off. I check my wristwatch. It has stopped moving. It’s time.

Normalcy

Men screaming “freedom” while paying taxes. Women wanting equality by thumping men. A taxi driver walks back home. A transsexual wins woman of the year award. A teenager is paid to tweet. An oil producing country lacks oil. A black man in the White House. A bankrupt banker. An unemployed job analyst. A pregnant nun. Dead poets. Holy wars. Pornography. A child with homosexual parents. Chaos. Order. Crises. Peace. Twenty first century.

PS: I almost just got bit by a snake. I feel like Jon Snow. Like I shouldn’t be alive. My leg tingles. I feel nothing. Fear. Tranquility. Brought back by the red woman. Lord of light. It was night time. Chaos. Order. Crises. Peace. Frankenstein.

Psalm 8:4

There’s a light-house across the hills,
There’s one across the sea;
Have you seen the Light-house?
Behold it, yes I can see;
Jesus is the Light-house
Given to us by the Father;
Grace that we’re not even worth,
Bountifully, God gathers;

Even in my distress, God saves,
Though I’m a sinful man;
He puts His eyes on me, though,
I’m me, simple Sam;
Though the way be narrow,
Be there turmoils and troubles;
God guides me along my path,
O, blessings more than double;

Jesus first loved me forever,
At night, noon, love that’s norcturnal;
I pray to meet Him in Heaven,
Where my praise’ll be total, even lyrical;
So much love I wish I could return,
How can I learn to love Him so?
So much love He has for me,
I’ll take some to give Him back, I’ll borrow;

Jesus, O He loves me without distress,
And doesn’t ask that I repay;
And to make Heaven which is my interest,
I just have to do as He says.

PS: I just came across this piece – which I don’t remember writing – on Facebook from four years back.

Numbers

The skies darken. It reminds me of that night. My steps quicken. I cannot bear to have another male species of this wicked human existence follow me through a narrow part today like one did two months back. My heart races faster than my legs. It’s palpitating. I can literally feel my heart beat. 120 beats since I started counting and I doubt it’s been a minute. Is that normal? My eyes are leaking tears and my brain wants to only leave this darkness. How did I stay out this late? I suddenly miss the warmth of my usually despised home. Where’s Richard? I need his heart right now to fold myself on. It gets colder. It gets windier. I hear footsteps. I run. My thoughts race faster than my legs and heart. I might fall anytime. I feel something touch me. I scream. The number of touches increase. This is it. I calm down to breathe. I realize it’s only rain. I see Richard afar off. Haah. Woosah. Calm. Petrichor.

RPG

I think most girls are stupid. No offence if you’re not. Y’all would get a perfect guy who’s willing to be anything and everything for you, then you’d rubbish him, turning him into a dark monster. And you’ll go ahead and say all men are wicked. You must be very daft.
Yes, this is not a poem. It’s a rant. I feel better now.

Dire wolf

I like you sometimes. Sometimes you make me smile and not regret still being friends. Sometimes you remind me not everything in life is as bad. Sometimes you give me hope. When I wonder at your beauty as you smile. Damn! Your smile is beautiful! Sometimes you give me reason to abhor laughter. It reminds me of evil. Your masterminded evil masterly pieced hurtful acts hunt my soul each time I think of happiness. Sometimes I am suicidal and you are my instinct. Sometimes I hate you with everything I have. But every time, you remind me wolves cannot be tamed. Every time, you remind me wolves cannot be tamed.

Gravedigger

I’m not meant to get over you. What’s there to get over? Stop telling me to. Because maybe I was just a phase of your life, you were my life. What do I do without a life? I hope you give a eulogy at my burial at least.

Arya

He never liked her. She was always creepy, running into him at weird places and grinning like a mad dog that was given a barbeque row for breakfast. He never wanted to talk to her ever. She stabbed him with a knife one day till he died. She was never mad. She just wanted a smile back.

38

The worn out beaten up gray haired face of a man stressed after a long day. The tiring drive from his workplace back home. Rigours of traffic jam and honking cars. The thought of an Angel’s face to greet him at home. A smile. Marriage.

Letter To My Dear

Dear Rose, do you remember at the start when you said all you wanted was to become a mechanical engineer even though all your friends insisted they wanted to be Barbie princesses, but you didn’t care about what others wanted or thought? Do you do throwback Thursdays? Do you reminisce of old times when you liked your hair better cut than plaited? When you played football with the boys around against all the warnings of your dad.
Dear Rose, that’s really what you were. Ironical how you died and never rose. I’ve put much thought to this but haven’t still decided if it’s an apology letter or not. I really regret my actions, but fate always takes its course, right? I never meant to hurt you. You know that.

PS: How’s the little beauty you had in your womb doing? Did she turn out to look like me or you?

         Yours: The-guy-you-loved-who-yet-left-you-inside-a-burning-house-to-save-himself

Slow Down

Look at us.
Always in haste, always in a rush.
Seem to be lost in the concept of time, always late.
I guess that’s why they call it the “Human race”.
Some lead perfect lives, and others are not really sure if they live.
A few are born to make changes, while others are just here to breed.
They say humans are the most intelligent animals, and some make me question that.
Signs of stupidity in science, and foolishness now considered an art.
We forget to live, in a bid to find our reason for being alive.
We keep driving ourselves crazy with theology, each time forgetting life is a cool ride.
Learn to enjoy the slow walks, the power cuts, the poor network.
Smile through the poor weather, the bad leaders, whether or not corrupt.
Life is about the memories lived, the anger when your friend flashes you and it’s a missed call.
You realise then and there, the human race is not really a race afterall.