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Poetry and I


It keeps me sane when I tether on the edge,
Soothing me and fighting that dark urge,
That morbid urge to become one with the night,
So yes, you can call it my guiding light.

It lifts me to new planes of reality,
From those dizzy heights, I look down
And I see my actions are not futility,
From the mundane to the monumental,
They come together in a stunning mosaic.

It is the rose-colored glasses, through which I see the world clearly,
It is the deafening din in which I find true serenity,
Stripping me of all pretenses it leaves me clothed in truth,
So you look at me and my nakedness is just an illusion.

It is the place,
Where my nonsense finds meaning,
Where I can call you a fool and have you smiling,
Where my sins are virtuous because I’m rhyming,
And where it is truth even when I'm lying.

Through its words,
I've traveled to places only I can imagine,
I’ve gone back in time to write many wrongs,
I've stood on shoulders of giants and seen the future,
And my hope in humanity was restored, well, a bit,
I've spoken against politicians who milk us dry,
I've spoken against religious dogma and shackled minds,
I’ve spoken about love won and love lost,
I’ve spoken about fair maidens won at great cost,
And you listened and you awoke from your trance,
You matched ahead not giving our shame a second glance.

In my mind, I see myself on the grandest stage,
My voice, crystal clear,
The crowd hangs on my every word,
Each word worth its weight in gold,
I hear them screaming, my name,
They bid me not to stop,
Flashing lights everywhere,
And at the curtains call,
The applause seems to reverberate forever,
My ego swells exponentially with each heartbeat,
And in my mind, I know it’s all in my mind, yet, it’s real.

Poetry and I...

*****March 31, 2012*****

(someone recently asked me what poetry meant to me, I couldn't really put it in 'normal' so obviously I had to write a poem about that)

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Bats at 37

When bats at 37 take to flight, At a quarter past four Or, whatever time Accra heralds the night,

When bats at 37 take to flight, For me, there's not a more beautiful sight Of creatures, imagined or real, That lay claim to these glorious skies.

When bats at 37 take to flight, With fevered screeches that punctuate the night When by sheer numbers they darken the skies And, below, people of a superstitious disposition Can not be bothered, I am reminded that, Given enough time all things cease to be strange.

When bats at 37 take to flight, Devoid of vibrant plumes unlike most things that fly, Rising like Legion and the hordes of hell, In defiance of extermination attempts, Above the Hospital in elusive figurativeness, Haphazardly, in sync, over constipated traffic There is not a doubt who owns the peppered night.

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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*****