Category: poetry

Read Poem: Part Conversation with Homlo, by Bhekuzulu Khumalo

What are you doing here?
You don’t know whose cave this is,
I dwell here, I Homlo, a dragon guard
I dwelled here long before you came here
I saw them create you, a man they called it.
A man, what is that, one chuckled
Now you have buildings to the sky’s
Your mind reaches to the furthest corners of the universe, man they called it.

How did you find my dwelling?
Dwelling here since your first time, your first age as man,
Now I still observe from my dwelling.
How in all the powers of the universe did you reach here
Few men can talk with me
How did your mind reach my dwelling?
All bothered by something, what bothers you human?
You must tell me how you got here, your mind.
Twisting the body, the spirit, can you twirl your spirit?
Expand it, contract it, well for you, human,
Just feel its expansions, it’s contractions, imagine a mind controlling that
Not you human.
What can I do for you?
What are you?

The oppressed,
Mind searching everywhere for freedom.
I have shared a word with many such folk.
I can categorize you all,
From meeting your representatives, crazy isn’t it.
Who is denying you freedom,
Who cares it’s all the same, freedom denied is freedom denied.
If I could be you, I can’t,
I would hate the fact that freedom is lacking first above all else.
Then unfortunately, it is difficult to have a strong mind,
I have seen all these things.
Hate that there is no freedom before hating the opponent, human,
Eventually you will hate your opponent, nothing comes out of it.
Don’t hate him or her,
Your language is him or her these days.
I have been around man,
Your expressions change with the ages, but still a consistent bunch.
Hate,
How can somebody ever talk of freedom when they have hate in them, I have never understood that about humans. The thought I am free but they are evil, over come it that’s all I can say.

What do you want me to say, you are the magic,
Seriously
You are the magic, free your mind
Overcome it and take a step towards freedom, try it,
Don’t forget to fight for your freedom.

You not oppressed,
Hmm,
You have freedom.
Freedom confuses you, are you one of those. From the robber class
All elites are robber class, yes they are.
What boy do you think is the giving of privileges, money doesn’t make you elite
Privilege does, force you they do, force you to share with em
Ay boy, I was there when money was created,
Swear swear, swear on all the other dragons
I was there when idea of money was conceived,
Money was to go to those who serve society,
No, no, that is much later, now what where the words of Zonla,
Money was his idea, well to give you,
Humans love to share, have to share to survive, don’t worry about it, learning process
Learn what you don’t know, and money is perfect tool for sharing.
That’s it, money
A tool for sharing,
Evil, please you are evil, they take where they have not sown, privilege.
Don’t give me those looks,
What weak mind made it to my dwelling
Sharing man, sharing human
Think about it, or don’t waste my time,
Money, proper cash, they created for sharing.
No, you, what are you, who are you?
The searcher of knowledge,
Hmmm, you just want to know stuff
Where it all started, how it works, now that’s good,
Just know how it works
Forget about end of the universe, if meant to be you get there,
Just know how it works, everything you see.
There you are human,
Get to know how it works,
Share that knowledge, that’s how it was supposed to be, before hate,
Imagine that, a tool of hatred causing such madness, how ironic,
Wish I could see Zonla’s face now, look at your madness.
Told him humans are too weak, never listens.
That’s money, well Zonla’s idea, sharing, primitive shits, as if you could understand sharing.
Tell me what you want.

What lies,
Money can only buy knowledge,
It can’t buy anything else, a tool for sharing and by sharing progress for all.
Didn’t take long for you guys to corrupt it, it’s very idea,
What do you want human? What do you want with me?

Know how it works, oh man
Are you dumb, that’s it know how it works and go and share your knowledge
That’s freedom, that’s money.
Don’t forget to get yourself a nice mate and reproduce.
Money, money money, money, what are thinking about?
If you are oppressed
When you win
Make sure money represents sharing
Sharing that, sharing this, and that over there if somebody wants it
Sharing, understand it as sharing boy.
Oh you hurt
Don’t like being called boy,
Homlo apologizes, you listen well.
I am Homlo, I dwell here and aware of much
He wants freedom, he wants freedom, he wants freedom
I got you didn’t I,
You like it no, money, just a tool for sharing I swear, I was there.

Easy there human
I have been around talked to your wisest, well some reach me
Who knows for what
What are you here for, a conversation
Darkness comes, but morning comes
For ever darkness and light, constant cycle
Got you, no wise words for you
The light has more photons.
Been with your kind countless day and night or is it night and day.
Sang with your man of war
We going to bath in their blood
We swim in blood,
We swim in blood tomorrow
Stuff like that, a little bit around.
Thundering thunder
Thunder my second one
Always sulking
Always brooding
I love you boy
Lightening my first boy
When ever lightening says hello be sure my family is strong,
Young thunder answers,
You like that, you want to meet the very ancient,
There is always more out there, more ancient than the last,
Why bother?

Take care to share
Arrogance and deception will bring human race down
Money can bring out best, but usually worst in many
Don’t doubt me human
I take gamma baths and get stronger
I dance on gravity
My very thoughts create heat.
Thunder and lightening are sons of mine mothered by Fontali
Princess of the dragon lord himself
She was a love
Wonder where she is?
You cry human for loads, even the ancients have loads
What ever happened to Fontali?
My Fontali

Read Poem: The Promise, by Aston Writer

“You promise?”
Aged only six years
A promise meant trust
Strangers meant no harm

The night had descended
Silence roamed the eerily air
It was dark, blinding and unnatural
Grass sounded brittle in the coldness

Sudden fear ensnared her vulnerability
He held her hand with an iron grip
“I want my mommy!”
She screamed at him

The tight grip hurt her
“You want to play?”
“I will show you a game.”
Pulling her into stretched shadows

A pale moon hung just above
Sprinkled stars surrounding it
The sky appeared velvet black
As if foreseeing impending horror

Stormy emotions circled her
Helplessness
Confusion
Fear

Tears rolled down her cheeks
She tried to free from his grip
Power was with him
She couldn’t

Nights like these transformed him
Drove wild his animal instincts
Hunting for naive fluid beauty
Obeyed demanding sounds

Subdued in the stretching cold night
Flames leaped within her body
Sending sharp sparks of pain
She couldn’t scream
Not anymore

Read Poem: Winter, by Frank A. Ruffolo

Sunlight breaks through leafless limbs
Silhouetting sky.
Jack’s breath numbs the diamond dew
As south the birds did fly.
Winter’s grey will take its toll
On the unsuspecting few.
As sunlight ebbs from lifeless limbs
And Jack’s breath numbs the dew.

Read Poem: What causes you pain but brings the greatest pleasure?, by Aysha Harris

I keep falling for these false allegations. Mistaking fucking for love making. God told me this is what I get for my impatience, for looking for love in these late night cravings. So he introduced me to my Saten. I should’ve known but how could I? When everything I hoped and prayed in, he came in. He was smooth like pavement. And boy he was my worst nightmare and greatest pleasure in the making. Thought no one would get passed my caged heart but he slipped in. I won’t forget how he did it, asking all these deep explicit questions trying to unleash my inner demons. He knew my biggest fears and deepest secrets. We talked about our exes and quite the messes they made. Told him how my ex gave others a home where I was suppose to lay. And he was heated saying how he couldn’t believe it and how I deserve much better treatment and how he would be that nigga. I fell deep in, he kept me on a high that kept me feenin. Never thought I would be this woman when it came to a man got so weakened. And I was so intertwined so it was always less of me and more of him so, I would ignore the signs when even my friends showed me proof that he was cheating. Only willing to accept the love I was given. Still had the screenshots in my hand, still tryna find the truth in all the bullshit you saying. Oblivious I didn’t realize you had a knife until I started bleeding. And I still refused to see the truth until I seen her carrying your seed and what happened to her just being a fuck and wasted semen or that I’m the only one you seeing? I should’ve known again that the devil never comes with good intentions. It was red flags how i didn’t see them? It’s starting to make sense .. How I could never see your phone not even to just play a song and how I could never come to your home you must not really be there alone and don’t you wish you had previews so you could really see how they move? Then I came to the conclusion, You was never praying with me but was preying on me and Stay tuned for part two.

Read Poem: WHEN SUGAR-SUGAR DANCED, by Jack Peachum

(420 lbs. & counting: District,1976)

When Sugar-Sugar danced topless in DC,
the neighborhood shook– cracks ran in the tarmac,
Senators on the Hill hid under their desks–

Old ladies cried, “The sky is falling!”
And if she broke wind, trees toppled,
rats in the basement ran for cover!

There were earth-tremors on her belly
– tides of the sea rolled in her armpits–
The suburbs– Arlandria– was flooded–

Her hair– a great storm– rolled through the midwest,
up to Moline and Rockford where her breasts were suns
bouncing off distant stars.

Her nipples captured the light of solar explosions–
and her hips were whole continents colliding!
What a woman!

Read Poem: ALONE IN THE LIFE, by MANTRI MARI

O my lovely Soul
Give me my last life memory
Get my last life relations
Put my things in order. O My Soul //

O Dear Soul, show me, Where I was
O Dear, show me where my people are
O Soul, You Knew Well All These Things
I Know, You’ll get my memory //

O Soul, Tell me, How did you leave me?
My Dear, You can’t hide the Truth
Tell me, What transpired you to leave me
My Lovely Soul, You know these things well //

I am struggling for memory
Am worried about my old people
Want to meet all my people now
O My Soul, give me my lost memory //

I don’t know, what the life is
Life looks to be miserable for some
Life looks to be enjoyable for some
I don’t know, where I fit in this life //

I am alone in this World
Don’t know where my family is
What the life means for alone life
Leading the life alone has no meaning in life //

Life is like a Rose Flower
Rose Flower reach the God’s Feet
My Prayers touch the feet of the God
A day is sure to reach the Heavenly abode //

What is this life in this zig-zag World
Life is live with hurdles in the life
Can’t know the destiny where my life to go
Adventurous life leads the life to the destiny //

A man needs class and mass
Needs shelter and water
Needs education and income
A woman needs good hubby with character //

Lovely Nature needs green farms and water falls
Nature needs birds and animals
Nature needs life and pleasantness
The Universe has all elements of life //

The life has hardships and bottlenecks
The family has troubles and problems
The couple has quarrels and understanding
The surname has all these ingredients //

Don’t leave me My Dear Soul
O My Soul, You’re me
My Dear Soul, Me You are
O Soul, I and You are life in this World //

Poetry by Brandon Ezzard

In this day and age we’ve messed up, having unlearned the true history,
but meditating on God’s Word will make you a new person mentally,
physically, spiritually, emotionally, morally,
give you the courage to fight ignorance through informing others
who would stay warm in their covers, starving themselves of truth,

if a man walked on hot coals it would result in melting shoes,
falling asleep, leaving the one in a coma that’s medically induced.

But Jesus came to wake us up. He went through hell to give life to the walking dead,
endured a living nightmare to wake up those living with insomnia,
who’ve been abandoned by parents, and are spiritually indoctrinated,
taught by and raised on TV, lonely socially like they’re locked in the basement,
given gaming systems, controllers, and a shelf where all the videogames fit,
which they’re rotting their brains with, leaving them emotionally plagued, sick,
vices forms of idolatry, going by cycles and they’re not
bikes equipped with training wheels,
yet are riding on the highway to hell,

develop a dependency for such to not depart from such vodka and Jager,
become psychologically wasted,
high-minded, hooked to alcohol, snagged by the bait, dragged away,
then taken captive by streams they’re longing to break from,

mobile cells, hand-cuffed, bars that they’re chained too,
taken under arrest by society which swallowed the key, put cement blocks attached to metal on their ankles and threw them into what they want to be their watery grave-pit.

So they’re kept up at night by what they do, withdrawing from what they should have withdrawn from long ago,
thoughts a drip-drop, tossing and turning like bobbing and weaving while boxing with a brawling woman.

These activities are like weapons that draw blood,
and are aimed at your sons and daughters,
who are looked at by wicked men and satan like a lottery they can win,
who want them spend to their lives having them spend their life like the money they’re making.

Thus, to get what they want they come at you like a man robbing a bank clerk,
with no care for their safety because by that time they already hate life.

Talk to them while they’re preoccupied; yeah, they’ll nod but they can’t hear,
headphones on, looking at you but through you like you’re not even there,
inwardly, filled with anxiety, outwardly, calmly with a blank stare,
lacking spiritual breath, sack-lunch paper-bag not in the hand but by this time over the head, depriving the body when taking breaths
of oxygen they need, which is why they’re always blue.

Truly, those who are broken want to break all the rules,
don’t know how to cope with life, in turn take guns to school,
stay in an awful mood,
facial expression like they ate awful food.

Self-destructive, walking with anger,
ask them why they do what they do, even they don’t know,
it does not even make sense,
but whether jogger or rapist, we all need His graces,
Jesus died for us all, He’s longing to save us.

Read Poem: OUR MOMENT LONGER THAN A MOMENT, by Dionysia Tudor

Some trees are lonely, some are not.
What difference does that make?
When how they’re hit, and how they take it,
decides whether they’ll last or break.
I, I have been hoping for the best.

Some moments last, some moments don’t.
The former are more than moments.
Yet how they feel, and how they end,
decides
whether there will be an
‘again’.

Nostalgically
short.

A few encounters, a few days;
Much banter;
Masking,
almost,
creeping feelings –
perhaps.

Then, a fast return to before,
before even an ‘and after that’.
Truly damaging the other;
for their sake though?

I am glad there wasn’t an again
to our moment longer than a moment.

—–

Dionysia Tudor has studied law and is good at logic. She likes literary arts that focus on the beautiful and the aesthetic. If to a clean heart all is clean, she treasures art that shows that. Her heroes and inspiration are the saints.

Plus a website in the making:

https://dionysiatudor.wordpress.com