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Thursday, 2 October 2014

The Storm Within

She sits in the dark night with her eyes raised
Staring into heaven’s shadow.
She stares ‘til the black sky tenses.
The sky’s blackness morphs to a dark orange-red hue.

The disquiet of the heavens stirs the stagnant air.
Fuming in disgust and protesting to her intense stare,
The air morphs into wind.
Wind bursts out and awakens the earth’s crust;
Dust becomes a painting on all life.

She continues to stare, 
She doesn't blink
The sky squirms

Her eyes are the vents to her fury
Her anger tortures the innocent night’s sky
Her rage yanks out the breath from the wind

As trees fly, the heavens begin to cry
Its tears splattering as blood from a severed artery

Her eyes are stung by heavens tears; she blinks.
As the heavens weep, the cries of the skies louden
Every scream triggering a radiant steak across the skies

The boisterous wind crushes her down
As heaven’s tears cleanses her.
As the raging furnace burning deep within her is doused,
She turns to him and whispers

A Call From Beyond

Tears drench my hardened face
As you are lowered into earths belly
She violently pulls me towards you…
The clouds are a tattered lace

A call from beyond

…I hear your voice beyond the dirt
Memory is a flood inside my brain
Erasing all the sanity within…
The sun emits rays inert

In here, I don’t belong

…Lingering feelings within a lifeless soul
Your love, your care, you loved me whole
A wretched being, but you looked within...
Poisoned darts of rain

A call from beyond
In here, I don’t belong

Let me be as cold as you
To journey with you beyond the gates of life
For in this world I do not belong
In that world, you do not belong

Let me hear your voice call from beyond

In Search Of A Hero


Sun rises, sun sets
A day rises, a day falls
A year appears, a year dies
And my people continue to seek a hero
A hero to plead their cause; to understand their desires

Who will that hero be?
Where is he?
Where is our hero?

My people need a hero who’d bring justice to the afflicted
One in whose palm justice finds comfort
My people need a hero who’d dirty his hands with the poor in the field
One in whose mind walks a craving to understand their plight
Let the hero show himself by writing down the numerous wrongs
And with each wrong, apply a belonging right
 Our hero should not only be the voice crying out for the oppressed
But also, be the hand lifting off their stress
He shouldn't only feel for their heart-searing hurts
But also, be a soothing balm, calming their sore spirits
Let that hero accept the miscarriages of their fathers
And comfort their mothers with an assuring embrace
 Are you that hero?
Would you crush all defrauders with a chain
And shackle all destructive leeches till they bruise in pain?
Would you decapitate all degenerate and heartless hearts
And yank out the hearts of unkind and brainless heads?
Can you?
 Let the hero come upon us like the rising sun
And show his full splendor at midday
Let the hero be the mild rain that caresses our soil
Enticing and coercing unwilling seeds to germinate
Let the hero be the wind wandering the sea shore
Blowing away all worries and heartaches in that moment
Let the hero be a rose, whose thorn pricks a lover
Reminding us of love entwined with a scolding power

Where is our hero?
Where is he?
Who will that hero be?

We need a hero to plead our cause; to understand our desires
We continue to await that hero

A year appears, a year dies again
A day rises, a day falls again
The sun rises, the sun sets, again.