The boys were what they were
Boisterious
Their toys all over the ground
Their behaviour unsafe, unsound
Life is happening before my eyes
Life is living and changing
I am concerned with the static
most pray for a short one
A toy comes flying past falling into the office
Not knowing themselves
mimicking and emulating over the decade
I am concerned with static
The motorbike was so fast, the driver likely stoned.
Deliveries on his morning blast checking his cellphone.
The last message he read slow, life it seems so brief.
Before he knew it, he was fractures and busted teeth.
The helmet didn't really protect him this far.
His negligence sent him headlong into that car.
Smashing the bumper off with force and impact.
His whole body fell over the car then he pushed himself off.
The damage was done and the bumper sat in three awkward pieces
Random jagged fragments with little plastic shards on the roadside
The man didn't take his helmet off and turned around his bike.
Positioning it close to the road for the next possible strike.
He put his hands on his head and started some kind of plea
In the helmet I'd guess the man was crying underneath
keeping it all to himself as his bike wasn't working anymore
And there was no insurance for any of this under law
She touched his back before she sat down
To get his attention
But he would be too slow on the uptake
she would swoon over the table
He would be lost in his own deep thoughts on life
The meeting would begin and everyone would share their beliefs
But he would just nod and only start giving his opinion when silence arrived
Then he would start to express himself and they would just speak over him again.
So he would keep his deep thoughts to himself casting spells on his immediate reality
And overhauling pieces of the future to make space for something different
But was there anything different or was he kidding himself with a different color of gruel
Inside the same silver bowl that he once acquired and now uses routinely and ritualistically
She touched his back and said
I still remember your eyes from the past
He turned to meet her glance and they faced off quickly
There was nothing to report that night fourteen years ago
Despair raises it's ghastly neck like hairy hell goose
The tears fall and there will be nothing left of us
The depth is something you think will pass
But it continues down through
It drags you under
deeper
Down the long neck
of some hairy hell goose
Like you were a minnow
swallowed
a drop of salty eye
off a sky scraper
Despair holds you inside and out
It devours part of your heart
And leaves nothing in it's place
Except the seeds of the next day's despair
The relationship she had lasted two weeks.
Young Felipe thought it was his world.
It was just a whim from the young teacher.
She embraced her own grace.
She walked through their lives,
her soft touch and validation of her choice.
Her mind and heart argue and she breaks it.
The young man withdrawls for a month.
She continues as if nothing happened.
Flirting when the impulse appeals.
Inside the absent young man
is a wounded boy ashamed to lose
Drizzle breathes down
Sheet after sheet
droplets drag until they become small streams
The slippery pavement shines
A car adjusts it's breaks
Pulls to a halt outside the house
the wet pavement allows the tires to slide
The sound almost utters the word home
A cardoor pops open with a thump
A marron high heel descends lands on the tarmac
Then another with ankes attached moving
Steps muffled by damp concrete
Ogun came to me in his original physical body venturing.
Silence was his language holding the weight and pain of centuries.
His face blank without expression his skin the blackest.
True understanding of this strange world was his quest.
I passed and waved, the ambition and naivety, the stench of me.
He nodded his head slightly moving at the same pace freely.
Deep roots of his wisdom as if he'd relived this day a thousand times.
These hundred thousand steps he took more sacred than mine.
So much deeper than me, I could read his tapestry of suffering.
Imagining how this God threads himself through destiny.
His way forward is clear I saw his ethereal direction.
While I struggle as if drowning in reflection...
But there's no water, just a lack of gravity.
