Leftovers

Original versions of products are held at great value.
Your value as a human being is determined in part by society,
Associations, character.

You are a product,
A by-product of what I left.
You are my leftovers.

Who am I to value/devalue you?
After all, in a recycled world,
I have someone's leftovers too.
:)

And in case you want to get all gangster on me,
I may be someone's leftover.
Now, you can get it twisted.
:)

Adrift

We are drifting apart.
The things keeping us afloat,
Cherished memories,
Residual love,
Potential gossip,
Prying questions.
The sad part?
You don't even see it!
Then maybe we can do something about it.


*Inspired by Yaa's status message on 20th September 2010.

Foundling Father?

Your promise of a better tomorrow
Is today's sorrow.
Remember what your started,
What you completed,
What you scattered.
Promises of a brighter future,
With you at the helm.

You set if off,
Became more and more confusing,
You set yourself apart
And lost touch with the masses
You swore to protect.
No longer ours, you were,
Everyone's, you were.
Our envy knew no bounds.
Dreams were no longer ours,
We lost touch with your dreams, our dreams.
Away with you!

www.adinkra.org

So when you begged to come back,

We laughed at you,

And mocked you.

Not knowing we were dancing,

To a tune no longer yours.

A different sound

Belonging to other puppet masters,
Who expose you as a grand puppeteer,

Hiding the swings to which we dance.

So at this point of no return
We reminisce what we lost.
The people we are,
The person we lost.
We imagine the future as you envisioned
And go forward in many directions,

Looking back

Blazing Trails

Tread with care,
Lest you stumble.
I fall in your footsteps.
I place my feet in your impressions.

Tread deep,
Leaving a mark.
A sign to uplift me.

With wisdom meander.
The caveat is what I seek.

Grope with caution.
My light is dim.

Leave white stones,
Landmarks of your passage.

*Enjoy the weekend.  Leave a legacy to follow. :)

Fortress

A world untouched,
Still calm,
Gentle surface,
Silent echoes,
Sparse impressions,
Iridescent facade.
Words of hail,
Innate threats
To keep at bay
Everyone.

All existence
Contained
A minute box.
Was not always like that.
Brick here,
Mortar there,
Crack,
Quick fix.
Slow, sure,
The walls came up,

Layers made from
Tears shed,
Hurts,
Disappointments,
Worry,
Battles.
Bolts and boulders.

In My Mouth

I have something in my mouth.;
A spoon,
Made from copper it is
Because silver is gone.
Gold was offered,
But got snatched up.
I was given platinum,
It got stolen,
Not 'cos of lack of care;
Cos of too much care.

I know of someone who was born with a silver spoon in her mouth, yet she is the most burdened person I know. She has been brought up to feel guilty about the fact that she has so much and others have less. Hers is a case of sorrow in the midst of abundance. She is her own worst critic in the act of self-denial.

Your Invitation

I went off,
Walkways, highways,
Shops, stalls,
Homes, houses.
I say to everyone, Come.
Come with me.
Visit my home,
There is a huge spread for everyone.
Everything and anything imagined,
Come, eat your fill.
Come, it is at no cost to you.
Come.

Excitement, doubt, excuses;
Attire was not appropriate,
They had guests over,
Had prior engagements.
Sad.
They promised to make it the next time.
What if there isn't a next time?
Shrugs.

Those who came
Comforted me.
Joy, laughter, songs.
My heart is bursting.
Welcome.
Welcome to my abound,
Set your burdens aside,
Take off you what you have, owe.
JC has prepared places for you.
Your garments are ready.
No need for alterations,
They fit perfectly.
You have accomplished your purpose.
Your reward is ready.


This is a continuation from here. I sometimes refer to Jesus Christ as JC .

My IM

I have another friend,
He'd switch off his phone for weeks,
Sign in invisibly on social sites and email chats.
He sends an IM once a month.
We catch up on what's new.
He is not one to send a text or email,
And makes the occasional call, just-because.
I am looking forward to this month's IM
Cos I know no matter how thick I lay the guilt,
He will still not attend on-the-spur class gatherings,
This-time-I-will-come parties,
I-am-almost-there hook-ups,
I-am-traveling getaways.
All I can say is,
No matter where you are, namesake,
Don't forget my IM.

What We See

The toast of town they were called,
They are a match-made-in-heaven,
The ideal couple,
None was surprised when they announced,
At the end of the festive season they tie the knot.

An idyllic marriage they had,
At least that was what everyone thought.
When she turned up with a black-eye,
Making an excuse; not seeing a door in a blackout,
Much thought was not given to it.
When he attended events, once-too-many times, alone;
Excusing her of having a headache,
Seeing her a day later,
Wrapped in blanket clothes with darkened lenses;
Questions were not asked.

When we close our eyes to what is seen,
Pretending what we think is what is real,
We miss the signs.
An idyllic marriage turned out to be,
Nothing more than a charade-in-tresses,
Masking inadequacies, fears, and tears.
Cat-fights, fist-fights and jaded dreams.

Grand Party

I threw this awesome party
And no one came.

I invited everybody I knew
And those I had only been introduced to.

A banquet with all the trimmings.
Food and drinks aplenty.

People were kind enough to RVSP.
I was so glad.

The grand day arrived.
Here I was in my elegant gown,
Feeling like a soft breeze in the heat of day.

I throw my door open as the clock struck
On the 11th hour.

No one stood at the gate.
No one bothered to show up.

*Have a great weekend. Please don't chill without me. :)

A Day In Your Shoes

What will it be like,
To wear your shoes for a day?
Are they nice comfy Converse,
Killer heels, Loake, boots, flip flops?

A day in your shoes,
Will you have a good day?
Happy, carefree, pretense,
Salt, sloth, sleuth.

How will it smell like?,
Your shoes.
Like feet, death,
Aromatic, odourless.

Should we switch shoes,
Will it be a perfect fit,
Just right,
Tight,
Loose?

A day in your shoes;
Heaven or hell?