I've been labeled, been tagged in a hurry.
Garments worn on me which were not flory.
yet none has cared to listen for my side.
Yet, have they not stripped me bare of all pride?
...
we stayed out late to count the stars
where maga men would park their cars
the cold outside we do care less for
where was charles then all along
i loved you but you loved him more
...
Home is gone, stolen by our enemy.
Home is broken, and nothing left for me.
Now I live in the wreck of an old van,
And my pillow is a soiled baking pan.
...
What is this thing? Are we married or not?
Only a nuptial bond will make meaning.
Yet passion binds us to uncertain lot.
Make us husband and wife or we're nothing.
...
far was peace and trouble nigh
nation east of Niger sought to split
for a new nation hope was high
as one nation they chose not to use
...
We sang proud in the choir of the Most High
Till the beauty serpent told us a lie.
How could we have placed on him all our trust?
On an angel with love for things unjust.
...
I will find my way.
I'd follow the cracks.
They are the
signs of life.
...
all I'd say in this rhyme is true
I'm a lover, I stand accuse
the sky be brown, the earth be blue
to bless you God can't refuse
...
See a butterfly emerge from its cage
Out from its cocoon, unto a new page.
Yet on both worlds has it dwelt, a native,
Birthing the house wive's twilight narrative.
...
Welcome to the end of tis my disease.
Of freezing shadows and ending their tease.
No, please. No, think not me as high on dope.
Sorely yoked but now high on dope of hope.
...
I have long known this roadside prostitute
In whom's life, night by night, down were the chips
Of what would you think her thoughts constitute?
Of yanked legs from whence falls her nightly tips?
...
If only I had not
left my courage on the shelf.
To embark on this adventure.
If only I didn't make a dash for the rolling mountains of my wishful thoughts.
...
What don't we know
that we don't know?
We can't know.
What is it that lies out there in the realm of human conscious intercourse?
...
I came on a plane.
I paid to be here.
I paid. Should my spine ache or my liver fail.
I paid to see a physician.
...
I had this dream.
Again.
I had this dream for the third time this week.
I had this dream for the fourth week this summer.
...
Ray Anyasi is the author of the thrillers, Poll of Vampires, To Live Again and Ujasiri. He writes poems as a way of relaxing while brooding on issues in his immediate society. His hobbies include playing tennis and surfing the internet.)
You Don't Know My Story
I've been labeled, been tagged in a hurry.
Garments worn on me which were not flory.
yet none has cared to listen for my side.
Yet, have they not stripped me bare of all pride?
I've been sentenced by a cold mass jury.
They have at my back written my story.
Yet none else was there to see how it went.
Yet it's from none of them was my life rent.
This is the crux of a loner's worry.
He stumbles and there's none to say sorry.
To tell my tale, I mount me on soapbox.
Shedding the light on it, a million lux.
You might guess that it's scary and gory,
But no, yes no, you don't know my story.
Love is sweeter when you're loved by a fool.
Whatever we are not willing to lose, we don't truly own.
You can't love people enough to be worth their peace.
If you forget what animal you are, you will challenge a shark to a swimming race.
Peace will find you when you're ready for her. War will chase you till peace finds you.
You don't know what is a gift till it's time has gone and it hasn't brought sorrow.
When heading to a meeting among the dark, bring your own light.