Showing posts from December, 2017

Uncle John and the marshmallows

Yeey... It was winter

Ding! Dong! Ding!

Hooray! Here is Santa

Christ is born

Candy, gifts and toys

Bunnies and outfits

At least for today more Macon on my plate

And rum too, just not for me, though..

Long live  Christmas

The wimp villain can now live again

As Sunday is here soon too


Johnny… how could I describe him? He  was a young white boy born in some old Celtic town. Some typical white you know,a gruesome pointed nose, blue eyes, restless hands and a burning tongue with a pale skin and blue eyes, the likes of Scotland, wales or Ireland. He loved spending time with his main, "old bruh"..its grandpa actually, who  stooped from the resistance of time to let him grow younger forever. One could actually literary count the wrinkles on his smooth forehead. The old mans under lit den looked like a magicians corner or a witches hut by the forest edge. It was stacked with all garbage, old books, magazines, gramophones, records that he loved playing when granny was cooking pancakes  and other stuff that cockroaches knew better than I .I guess he did this to remind the old lady of  the days she used to sway her hips down the walk way and in her long pointed leather bootsstepped magically like she was in no mood or sane i…

Ooh pain Who are you What is your name? Where do you come from? Are you to be understood beyond just an emotion? Say death, a malady,  blood on skin
You are a wound, a wound to the soul If I gave you the world would you stop hurting? If I gave you life would you be happy? Do my tears and wrinkled heart give you the joy? The pleasure? This spark of happiness inside, why does it irritate you?

#NB #writer's_thought We curse pain, even God because of it. But do we really understand it? I tend to think it is to make us weak and then stronger than ever again. If their s happiness sadness is not an exception.

       I wanted to change the world at 9 but maybe I hadn’t known what it was yet . Yes, time flies where it got wings from no bird is lucky to have known as arithmetic confirmed I was 19 when I wanted to write this. Still all those years after teenage euphoria I didn't, but now I am lucky am doing it. I hadn’t known that this was the age the whole world was looking at you. Yes it was. I thought I sat on the world but ..heck ..who even has ever done that? The world sat on me. This floating soggy ball in space was on my head with its big hinds. The age of freedom had ‘dawned’. Illusions and beliefs all had got me into this cells. Practically living other peoples lives.

        Who am I? Self identity searches crippled in and reality too sent its chilly whispers down the spne. Like a drunkard sobering up from a heavy stupor by the dirty roadside from the burning sun, I started to pick up myself. To unlearn the learnt and to remove this tattoo…

If I could write, I could do it for Buddha The godly  essence,
as if I were reading from the ancient lost codes
or the undiscovered underground scripts... Peaceful as nature without humanity The doth glance from heaven Shakespeare still wouldn’t contemplate A seer blest because ego is awake And the soul in ink in this owl feather, fresh Dark as dark Not faded. The white suit and tie lie, I was too poor to buy But if time gave me wings, I could fly WITH MY POOR RICHES Maybe not on a plane But to unseen islands of the gods Where there's no nickel to feel its ugly weight on my thighs
neither its absence to anguish the blithesomeness nor religion, power politics to blind the eye. Where I hear lost souls roam the universe freely Ravening High over the snow caps of Kilimanjaro Macklemore, glorious.... This spark under the puffball skull The eternal fire, the burning spirit The fragmented realities,.. welcome to the optician on the mountain