Stranded Poem by Kebe Iwara

Sleep blindfolds you first
before he takes you to the zone.
Nothing in life is free. There is interest
to every granted loan.
Time is what sleep keeps
and it is shown only to who sleeps.
That is where the secret ends.none takes
it to wherever he wakes.
That sleep would remain vapour
and take credit for every favour;
the soul that becomes
at ease
and the one that gets a fantasy kiss.
All must call on him
expectant of a sanguin
whim
for each day that he is low
all his dependants follow.
As so does a good whore
so does sleep, that we call him more.

Sleep is lost
and for such i count the cost
where i there now
or if i knew my way around.
I turn you miss, you turn i miss
and none knows what's amiss.
Number doesnt cure blunder
though it can make stronger.
Restless, hopeless i yawn and yawn
nearer, closer, the unravelling dawn.
I must sleep before the hour
when lateness makes love sour
the clock nervously ticks by,
closing in.what posture more to try.
I toss and turn
seeking to be one
with time and with you
could night lie to me, to some true?
This calculating heart must be eluded
i must take my chance or remain stranded;
how can true love be yet so near
but so false the atmosphere.
How frightful is insomnia
when time is yoked with you, sonia.

(c) kebe iwara,2012
all rights reserved.