Tuesday, March 03, 2015


You bow to the storms bumping into the sinews of your heart, you’ve babysat injuries of your ideologies from the start, the washing winds punching the firm frame of your face make you forget all the sweet smelling quotes about better days and inspiration from your mama’s good dinner plates, your chances of getting away from this lock of desperation you dread are limited, you’ve thought of being a Rastafarian but you dread the constant locks, you want to pork, this vehicle of restraint,  but it  looks almost impossible like a robot’s respiration, you end up wasted- it’s only a weekday, lethargy hangs over your weak ends, lecher-deep hangover before the weekend, you walk a world where everybody talks 6 feet, under your feet you feel the earth calls, you almost feel defeated even before you start a feat, your echoes hit dead walls, if success were a basketball dunk, you’d be throwing air balls, you entered the mall with tears as currency, you window-shopped all day and forgot to get doors, to your emotions, you’ve always been called an ocean, because you feel you’re sure but you wave in when you land and quickly retreat because you’re tide, the graph of your progress is a roller-coaster ride that runs under dark waters, the gradient is far from radiant and you’re that bothered, you almost want to drop your black converse and that crooked smile that pulls up most of your face into a punched pudding or after-effect of 6 shot alomo, you’re in the midst of people you call friends but feel that solo, you walk looking like the letter C crawling compressed out of Hitler’s concentration camp, your conversations are damp  like concerts wasting gushing fluid of faith from your bowels and turning you inside out, contemplating, you puke your wish-lists, your heart and your mind are at war, you try mopping crumpled opportunities smeared on the floor, you’ve many a time been called a misfit, if you were clothes you’d be fit for Kanye’s torn fashion business, you’ve started carving unknown hieroglyphics right on your wrists, you’ve thought of seeing a psychologist, next time the thought of suicide hugs you you might not resist, same suicide shadow you sense moving your marrows shows you a drop dead delicious pout and you might wanna kiss, you might want to stop to exist, you tight balled your fists, you eyeball the mist, you might want to strip, all the fabric fantasies of finding a future, you’re failing and that fall is swift,
But yeah you’re an ocean, you rise and explore, you surf  ashore and you soar, you break through when you land, you have a lot of beauty deep down in store, you look up to the sky and swirl and dance even when you’re blue, the whole world needs you, everybody wants to touch their feet to yours, you’re a bowl of wonder with a lot to share. You are an ocean!


  1. Excellent piece on the journey of ambition where the terminus is just one more journey away. Should one reach the terminus then one faces the dilemma, how do we attain satisfaction?

  2. Kwame Write -The Cubans in EEUU ...

    Dr.Ciencias Joan Francisco Valdes Santos te escribe desde EEUU.Espero puedas participar en in evento que preparo te enviare las bases eres el escritor que impulzara el movimiento de figuras jovenes de Africa y otros no tan jovenes pero de Corazon tranformador ....Reparte las bases centro Du Bois , Universidad de legon
    Universidad de lenguas de Accra. Hay otras maniferstaciones mas alla de la literature.
    Responde y escribe a dr.jfvs@ gmail.com otra jfvs@Arteyoruba.com.
    Africa dentro y fuera .Afrodesendientes hijos de la gran Africa.