Skip to main content

The Poem I didn't Write

The poem I didn't write,
it would have been,
an altar to my unappreciated talent,
a tapestry of words which my heart will lament,
it would be soulful and move you to tears,
and you'll say, “how did his name not reach our ears?”.
And I'd have called it,
“the shadows and talents”.

The poem I didn't write,
it was about how our motherland betrayed us,
how we went to the University to get an education,
and how we came back with just a Degree,
it would have been about job hunting frustration,
applications after application and updated CVs,
how our fathers had it cheap,
and I'd have called it,
“the Woes of a Gold Coast Graduate”.

The poem I didn't write,
it was long, very long,
it would have bridged
the boundless expanse that separates you from me,
it would be from the nadir of my anguish,
to the zenith of my pleasure,
about how we betrayed our love, many times,
it would put twinkles in your eyes,
and they'll call me a hopeless romantics,
blessed by Apollo,
I'd have called it,
“Bridges and Love”.

The poem I didn't write,
it was unapologetically fiery,
it would have lit up souls that were weary,
called to you live for what you believed not die,
for what good is belief when you in the grave lie?
It would have been a revolution,
it would have been an evolution,
it would have been only natural
that after reading you'd soldier on
though your feet were tired walking of to nowhere.
It'd speak against politician and their deep pockets,
it'd speak against men of religion and no religion.
It would increase your thirst for knowledge,
you'll drink it all in and you'd call it,
“African bush fire”.

The poem I didn't write,
it wouldn't have been full of Latin phrases,
it wouldn't have been full of Greek philosophies,
it would have filled the empty spaces,
created by indigestible knowledge
gained from learning and not knowing,
it would have made Aristotle, Plato, Socrates
and all those our parents learned about turn in their graves
for it contained nothing and everything.
It would have rebelled against conventional teaching,
it would have spoken against dogma.
It would have unmasked ignorance parading as wisdom,
and I'd have called it,
“Greek Philosophy is Dead”.

This is not the poem I didn't write,
that poem is lost in the dark crevasses of my mind,
far somewhere that won't for a while see light,
and yet from there its tormented howls reach your ear,
calling you to;
write that poem you didn't write,
sing that song you didn't sing,
stretch your hand and share that light,
take the next step, it could be your spring,
to greatness,
to oneness.
If this is the poem you didn't write,
then maybe you can call it,
“The Poem that I wrote”.

February 24, 2011

Popular posts from this blog

God is My Barber

The sickness that made the Vulture bald
would have killed the Crow.

It is because
the gods are petty
and would not be questioned
about who they show favor to,
That Crows live to,
Squawk hysterically
At Vultures' misfortune.

We have come to understand, that,
when a petty god is your barber,
Crows, who can't afford a razor,
with their benevolent destinies,
will punctuate our precious peace
with their shameless snickering.

the Vulture
pays any mind
wages a war of words
with mockers and scoffers;
for the cure for baldness
is not found in the laughter of Crows...

*****April 4, 2017*****
My Second poem about Vultures. I really need to stop this...😂😂😂

Finding God

The inexplicable
Is proof there's a God.

This, for me,
Is where doubt began.
For if we know today
More than we did yesterday
Then, God is
a constantly contracting chamber of ignorance.

Now if it is so
And God is the Lord of gaps
Then men of religion
May be forgiven
For their unrelenting battle
Against knowledge;
The God killer.

But if God is
the beginning of wisdom
And his people perish
For lack of knowledge
And if we know today
More than we did yesterday

Then it stands to reason
That the God to believe in
Is an ever expanding explosion of knowledge.

I have no faith
In the God of gaps
For God must be Omniscient
And ignorance is not
This, for me, is where doubt ends.

*****April 22, 2017*****

Bedtime Epiphany of a Pining Heart

I contemplated
On things that were and were not,
On why
Light retracts different, in your eyes,
Like rainbows randomly ricocheting
Off my intangible thoughts,

On why,
Words sound different, on your lips,
How you laugh,
How the sounds take a path,
Across infinite dreams,
Into all my incarnations,
Into all my iterations,
Into all...

I concluded
You are a figment
of my imagination,
You must be...

God is not so cruel
That he made a Heaven like you
Then condemned me
To the Hell of perpetual longing
Wanting, and never belonging...

*****September 14, 2016*****