The Loss.
the overbearing loss
of innocence' power, fades
into victorious failure
blinded by
The Brightness
of the finite,
and the vastness,
of broken things,
until
The Scuttled Shame
coasts intrepid
across fearless seas
wrought with nativité,
vainglory,
and....
come what may.
Category: Olorun
Strutter Step
juking & jiving
your damn way through, but
stickin'
to the script like
you were bred to do.
life plays you tight-
this ain't no zone D.
but there are so many ways
for us to get free.
no matter
how
you twist,
turn,
or fade away,
home waits for you,
right now,
right here.
so,
walk your way
and remember
to play YOUR game,
and we promise
to welcome
you home
once again.
Take Me Home Again
albion mist
clouds my heart.
I cannot hear the drums.
the might of my fathers washed
away in the myth of history.
I cannot feel the drums.
empty children, wandering
without soul, eternally seeking,
try to guide me through their hell.
they have never heard
the sound of the drums.
they cannot know
the sound of the drums.
the sound of the drums
that will take me home.
the sound of the drums
that can take us home.
to be free
crashing vengeful
against the whole
of time,
History wails fierce,
and impotent.
dreams fall
so gentle
upon the future, waiting
for you.
a masterful novice
a
master
of comedy
scurrying this way
and that,
provoking
divine chortles
which lace the evening sky,
as I forever seek the truth
glowing inside.
a
master
navigator
venturing over baobab
and through acacia,
leaping under
the sound of the drums.
steeped in earthy aroma,
I find myself here,
waiting.
a
master
of seduction
leaving behind desire and ecstasy, as
the ghost of longing slips
unfathomably close, leaving
in its wake a truth that
glistens
with tantalizing delight across
naked skin,
fulfilling a hunger that wants
for naught.
yet
the whispers of loss still
tingle in my ear.
my apprenticeship has only just begun.
changing lanes
long have i waited
for opportunity's spiked embrace,
as portents of struggle
flooded my soul
with a patient kind of love.
and fear arrived to nest in my heart.
fear stilled these capable limbs.
fear stilled all hope,
leaving
me
in a broken moment,
until fear stilled my fear.
and so I am here
now, fearless
& alone,
wrapped in this cloak of destiny.
soulitude
floating,
through epiphanous slumber;
plagued with wizened hopes,
the wanderer seeks
the lingering promise of
a dream deferred.
trudging
deep under bowered wood,
missed
by mystery,and
dissed
by destiny,
he sets forth again,
on a journey
not yet begun.
Fate,
faithfully fickle,
but often true,
yearns,
to once more warm her long fingers
against the
glowing embers
of his hearth.
"Harken
to the song
rising
from within:
a chorus
of miracles
calls.
will you
submit
to the
deepest wonders
of your soul?"
Tyrant Supreme
ripped asunder
and
split,
into a thousand
wants, flagrant
in their desire,
the thrill
of loss
burns vengefully,
like
an orgasm
leached artfully
from an unsuspecting lover.
yet,
the dance persists.
urged on
by singed memories
of those stolen moments,
we sacrifice still:
soul
and fire;
magic
and gold;
all,
to the false gods
of hope,
destiny,
and
love.
come with me,
angel
of the night,
and let us be free
of this misplaced oblivion.
Awakening
so called clarity
begets this
mindless wandering.
I yearn again for
the simple dreamtruth
and
fantastical wisdom
found in that wild place within,
where cruel innocence
and
devout desire
writhe together as one,
intertwined;
ecstatic.
sinking once more
into this fog of knowing,
i drown my soul
deep into primal memories
of a union more true
than purest oblivion.
finally,
I am free.
waves
gently scalded
by
a star’s loving mercy,
i slip again,
down
into the shadows
where (my) truth blossoms
furtive,
and safe
from expectations and love.
yearning for absolution,
yet fearing
dissolution into a greater part
of me.
so i scale these peaks of despair
and slide into the valleys, grounded in solitude,
all the while,
avoiding the stagnant tranquility of constancy.
theDeprevation 