PAINS AND SCARES, Shalom Akaelu [best fiction books to read .txt] 📗
- Author: Shalom Akaelu
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HEART
When my heart
is smashed in a thousand pieces,
I stand up to face my fears,
but my mind sinks back in.
I feel like I’m suffocating
in the middle of the street,
and no one can see me dying.
Teach me how to breathe.
It seems like I’ve been shut out,
shut out from the rest of the world.
The silence stinks,
and the brooding hurts.
Everything is on the standstill,
although my heart remembers to sound,
to remind me of my endless commitments;
to living, at least, to existing.
I speak to those dear to my heart,
but they listen without their ears,
decorating their care-less faces
with provocations, as smiles.
I think of giving up, losing hope,
but there is nothing left to lose.
Both heart and hope,
Have been smashed in a thousand pieces.
VICTIMS
VICTIMS
Through life’s unpruned path,
I walk with a crowd
that cuddle the fear of being victims;
victims of sharpened ecstasy,
threading on the paths of “Never.”
They burned our bridges,
we crossed their lines,
but we still bottle our fears
under the tree of pain.
The vegetation is not green,
our lives, bitter.
Our faces seem to burst
with expectations of the worst.
But on this unpruned path,
our hopes would see us through.
SHADOWS
SHADOWS
When the arrow of self-pity
punctures the very essence of dignity,
I fall behind myself…
I wake up to
Angels of dark shadows
with broken voices,
hidden faces,
under the façade of triumph,
envoys of distress,
tied down in painted faces,
beautified with dangerous mirage,
of unquenchable fire.
With broken voices,
these angels tell a story,
a story of pain and despair,
Clothed in appealing shadows.
ESCAPADE
ESCAPADE
With man’s avalanche of thoughts,
intertwined in harmonious array,
flowing swiftly with desires,
pruned with no mean efforts,
like the horn of a unicorn.
Its depth and height,
prominent in the wave of the typhoon,
all gathered together in unison.
Of all man’s travails,
his soul, too wide to bear
these gushing streams,
from an overflowing heart,
poured out in fine filters.
His soul, too wide to bear
these thoughts and tears.
INDECISIVE
INDECISIVE
The tattered lines of my heart
Break through my tinted face,
Revealing bluntly, nothing but pain,
Proud to unveil the dark patches on my soul.
Forgiveness pleads to be forgiven
As my blotted belly carry the weight,
The weight of undefined anger.
I have been exposed;
Alas, I hide no more, my pain,
Which forms a cloud upstairs.
My head ready to pour like the rain,
On the evergreen mountain.
Mount hatred and Mount betrayal
Play a game of chess within,
Betwixt and through my veins.
Conflicting thoughts overcrowd me,
Corrupting the very essence of my being.
Indecisive, I stand, waving flags,
Flags of justice, void of prejudice,
To rid my heart of dilemma.
Sprinkles of hope, I envisage,
To counter this feeling of glorious loss.
MY PAIR OF GLASSES
MY PAIR OF GLASSES
The mask that hid my true self
The façade of truth
Being ignored in deep breaths
Happiness becomes a crown
with a price tag of a clear heart.
When the mind refuses to let go,
This happiness, this crown, is never purchased
Smiles; these become games
that must be hunted
My mind, too sickly to hunt them,
become dampened in sweet bitterness.
Praises depart from my lips.
Thoughts, they even depart from her, my mind.
The flow of my narration;
The state of my mind.
Confused and in no definite array,
Trampled upon by zero self-worth,
Scattered, evident in my pain infested face
Being masked,
By my pair of glasses.
RESIGNATION
RESIGNATION
Once again in my head,
I hear the growing bang,
thoughts of retreat
and harmony,
all mixed up
in an unholy matrimony,
feeding my heart
with uncircumcised food,
a call to be the bait.
Unspoken memories,
untold dreams,
filling my aimless vacuum,
a heart that thinks on nothing,
Nothing but history.
Splatters of the fountain,
rushes of the wind,
these thoughts perform alike,
on this punctured soul.
In the theatre of life,
play me the music of sorrow,
that I may perform,
a melodrama, dear to heart,
to remind me of my stolen dreams.
Unfulfilled, I lie,
waiting for mother earth
to claim her treasured possession.
DARK
DARK
The white apparel,
flowing and sweeping the marble floor,
swinging side to side…
I watched them dance,
showing sets of teeth
eluded of whiteness,
contradicting their pure white gowns.
I watched them intently,
scanning through the white gowns,
gowns of hypocrisy,
wraps of lust,
which the world sees not.
Sin and purity,
married under the shades of white
behind the poor pulpit,
which is void of expressions
to condemn such unholy righteousness
Eyes reddened with falsehood
lips broken of words untold,
The sad realities of a forsaken cross.
I see them match on,
with cassocks of pride,
robes of injustice,
milking the innocence of their congregation.
The altar weeps
for the careful brutality
of her damned sacredness.
ON BENDED KNEES
ON BENDED KNEES
When the guns blew up the delicate walls
Under the bridges of solitude
We seemed to forget all our deflated balls
As our hearts cried out; not in gratitude.
To end our thoughts of agony
We took to our heels, bodies dangling
We moan and detest the acrimony
Oh! What a war of no mingling
With blood; splattering, people groaning
Our hope is lost as our knees find their place
On the ground; for mercy, pleading
How can we solve this? No space!
Yes, in our hearts, no space left to bear; to forgive,
On bended knees, the victims, we pray to live!
CRUSHED
CRUSHED
Sparkles!
What I see in every lightening.
The thunderous brooding of manhood,
fear soaked in pain,
melted hearts and rolling heads.
Freedom!
the voice that weeps
when Mr_ plays “catcha,”
her lips telling nothing,
eyes pleading
for the mad fellow
crushing her.
She dissolves into him.
Fear and pain in a fair game,
her body, the chess-board.
Groans and moans-
arrows of molestation.
He blends his skin in hers,
tearing the essence of her being.
A plucked flower,
rudely exposed to the scorching sun!
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