(a dream) Recurring

Before it took its various shapes
I felt its presence
along the way
it's had bones
and once in a blue moon
a little flesh has grown.

I begin to believe, each time,
but like the passing of a season,
it will rot and fade
till only something faint remains..

Just as I doubt it was ever there
bones grow anew

The skeleton has taken form once more.
Flesh may grow and who knows
maybe this time It will endure,
long enough for its wing to unfurl,
and take flight

Protect ya queen

Without pause for thought

(the audacity)
he throws his queen 'to the battle
with alacrity. 

Does he,

a) lack experience.

b) not respect you.

The answer is both - he will soon be regretful.

Tempting it may be, 
to weild your power supreme

She cannot be deployed

Like a mere side piece. 

Unleash her too quickly, 

without pawns for cover

you invite your foe to a chase

that surely ends in her capture.

She who haunts every pawns dream

ever posed to take one for the team. 

The safer approach,

advance the minions first

out harms way,

you may quench your thirst.

I tell you as uncle Ben told pete, 

deploy her power responsibly.

what means maslow to you

Lost time

They come every second 

and without intention

he will attend to each whim.

Dissecting 

Scrutinising 

extrapolating with a story tellers precision

The gears of his imagination grind out scenarios

he believes may play 

Out in 

Parallel planes of existence 

Seamlessly 

His attention quick shifts with each passing tic

toc 

one thing

to the next. 

Can't help but notice, everywhere, cotton 

bearing the contours of ripe fruit

and wrinkled veg underneath

Everywhere, windows display bait; a hard back best seller hooks and draws him in. You can never have too many, he lies. A steal at £2.

 

Wishful, he thinks he can pour time into each thing.

Underneath, he knows, there is never enough

Attention offends repeatedly 

held captive

time is lost.

art of pain

Your sadness is not sacred
that it may be pimped is no secret

It is iron to be manipulated
you must silver plate it

See how it inclines,
points to a goldmine

It is top soil in spring
whose crop nourished by tears

It is cattle waiting in the abattoir
It is cash in a clenched claw

It is raw
potential
festering
leaking
releasing spores

It is a deep well
to draw from at will
imperishable,
it is many, many things

except sacred.

Nigeria

Buried under the prison
of twisted religion
lies the conscience of killers
that say God willing

A nation mourns the slaughter
aching
slowly moving on
In fear of tomorrow
there may be a fresh one.

Blue Magic

You soon learn
your true best friend
be a shade of blue that unlocks your pen

With grim gratitude
build on a mood
food's only fuel
pain be the food.

We bathe in dark
liquid currency
lathering up
before rinsing the art.

Dirt's prized product
we struggle with our strings
rebellious puppets
discontent
we brood on things.