Skies in Perpendicular Angles

Skies in perpendicular angles, speak of days that have my heart in entangles.
With beauties that shine with whites flowers and golden hair, the heart of gold he will not care.
Blue, yellow, orange and black, he wasn’t looking to fall for love it was what I lacked.
Shadows go up against all ninety degrees, my heart shivers in the hot summer breeze.

Sailing Paper Boats and Flying Kites

I made paper boats as a child at the age of five, I threw myself into a pond to save it and didn’t know how to dive. Creased and soiled by the muddy lanes, taught me lessons of no pain no gain. You’ve been flying paper kites while I’ve been sailing paper boats, you coloured the skies while I watered everything I wrote. We both played and swayed by the winds, stirring thoughts of sweetness and sadness in our destined minds. It was on dry lands, that fate depended on the lines of our hands.Boats must be launched and kites must be flown, how long will you not sail for the fear of unknown? Up the stream and high in the sky, colourful paper make your eyes cry! It isn’t how big your paper origami sails or how high it flew, it’s how beautiful it looks even when it wrestles the muddy waters and the colour of survival on the skies it drew! Can you see the bridge I made from the mud to the sky, it’s getting difficult to keep my paper boat dry!

A Minion, a Lion and a Hippopotamus

When the road is a winding mess, the raindrops feel colossal no less, when the sun don’t shine and you’re waiting on the stars to align. You’d rather be inside the covers on your bed, refusing to listen to the voices in your head, getting off the door to the metro you dread. Why me? Why do you will feel like the confused hippo?

Then the world feels right again and like the friendly lion you will forget the bad rain, you will feel like a happy minion being you, ask yourself why me, then too?

The Sorry Umbrella

He held up an umbrella,
while the winds howled her name.
Whispers at the corner of his lobes,
sinked him further into its circular shape.
Her silhouette mirages beneath the stairs,
his imagination strikes down like lightning,
breaking everything in sight.
He stood under his umbrella safe and dry,
while the rains poured,
and heavens broke down and cried on his behalf.
His love was made of mistakes,
his love was made to be a crime,
they forced him to wash his hands after he touched her,
threatened him with fear of divine.
He was a sorry umbrella cold as the wet night,
tired of being tossed around by the harsh winds.
Wind rushed, trees swayed, recklessness filled the air,
he lifted himself thirty feet off the ground,
the bridge tried to cling onto to him,
but he let go.
Alone floated the umbrella on the wild waters.

3hirty Thr3e in April

She wanted someone to love,
and so she fell for herself for all of thirty three.
She made loving look easy,
finding herself amongst the lost.
She was a warrior by blood
ready to chase after what she bought.
An unveil for the ones who brushed her aside.
Enamoured for the ones that stood beside her,
yet she wasn’t bitter,
she wasn’t sour.
She was not all sad poems and broken lines,
she was the flower that bloomed only in May.
Every year she spent her birthday in different timezones,
worked her blood, sweat and tears.
Stubborn as a bull she drove her ambition,
the result only showed on her passport.
Celebrating her ever after she blew out the candles,
raised a glass of Sauvignon Blanc to all of her that night.
No witnesses, no pictures, no company,
she was a winner in all her stories,
she was a hero who saved the day,
she was a super human in every fairytale,
she was the giant who people wrote stories about for a change!
Cheers 33!

How Does the Sky Feel After a Storm?

Her dark coffee-roasted eyes opened into a world that vessels magnificence, it wasn’t the other humans that created on her an impact of difference. She grew up to love the wind, seas and butterflies, she caught the moonbeams when she closed her eyes. She isolated herself from the ones that commanded words to be spoken, no one listened, and without a single word she left the locks broken. What she felt with the intensity of solitude, filled her with meanings that multiplied in magnitude. How could she explain the pure lightning in her veins, she wore a pendant of the world map on her chains. She was made to do incredible things you can tell, surviving within four walls was never her place to dwell. Things weren’t handed to her and that’s what made her wonderful, street by street she discovered what it meant to be powerful.

Mocking her tattoos, “art belongs on the wall”:
the ones she built around was her masterpiece and never let them fall. In the end its the things that kill you that make you feel alive, sitting on the edge of earth on a swing, she lived until 1hundred and five. Time taught the darling, of things that were loved bitter and sour, she travelled through the countries and living by the hour.

She wore a wing on her wrist, to her acquaintances she didn’t exist. She loved cities that made her feel like home, even on the bad days they embraced her and she never felt alone. Her lust for travel was deeply-chained, friending soils that didn’t constrain. She passed through it all like a ship in its form; Beautifully broken, this is how the sky felt after a storm.

Old Park Bench: Where I want you to be!

The world passes by as I look across the courtyard, I stop to see the dry world passing by.
Kids riding their hoverboards, men and women making their way to their destinations,
all this with man-made machines shrieking the brakes to halt;
Funny are these DNA-embedded beings contending over who is richest, strongest and most influential.
This is where I am.

Wrapped up in your arms, fingers running everywhere;
The moist soft touches, blowing kisses in the air,
The warmth of your body that sets fire to even the cold October winds,
This is where I want to be.

The quilt that kept me warm has gone frosty,
The hair that ran like silk has gotten old,
The gentle squeeze on my hip stays forgotten.
Ripples of pleasure turned to pain, as I look back, that’s all I gained.
Looking at the dry world pass by; This is where I am, This is where I want you to be.