Krystal Pen

Fiction, Poetry and everything Literary. Every voice should be heard.


Free men/ Poetry

Men live in twos but free men live without conflict. The conflicts are sands; enticing and without heads. The conflicts are when you want to be a seed, living on the surface when you want to travel with the wind. Men live in twos but free men live without conflict. Free men are the souls with no hide; seeds that abide. They are also the bodies without a soul, mere […]

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This is how a man dies/ Poetry

First; He chases shadows of coins and delicate things budding from Sheba’s queen dancing in the wind, bearing no compass. Second; He wears away from his vessel like woeful steam rejecting a black kettle. Third; He becomes hyacinth roaming Forcados; homeless, while his vessel wears away and finds a space among clays. Fourth; He becomes a memory. This is how a man dies.

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I want to die sailing/ Poetry

  Tell me about the death you bring I long for it At least, it brings a devouring pleasure And bolting streams of sweats Tell me about the lips The taste of five colonies of bees burnt The savagery of hyenas folded into the dark Tell me about these bumps Abandoned on corners carefully Soft fire that rolls peace from skins Valleys sitting like mountains Tell me about those sacs […]

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Ajuwaya/ poetry/ written by Famous Agu

Keen and preen for servitude A clarion call to this latitude Our joy, judged with bitterness Travelers trail across the wilderness Amid the amity with camp men And the quiet query from cankered men Our busy bidding service worth quid pro quo Quirky quid allowee status quo Stack of stock calling in prices high Then we squeeze and squirm, yawn and sigh Money became monkey making her journey And the […]

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The grays have turned dust and the heads mere skulls. The solitary brown tooth is now a memory and the mouth now made of milk. The boulevards now echo with a cacophony of empty sounds and the reproves of fallen trees now trodden by the branches that sway in the wind. I heard they once lived; bones that tell the color of life in their mouth. I heard they have […]

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Another Little Flower/poetry

There was a little flower in my head, with the color of the sun and bosoms resting on the stem like a full moon. This flower was once in my eye. In the day, it will tickle my cheeks and stain my lips with laughter. In the night, it will summon my own soldiers so that I rolled like soft stones caught up in an avalanche. I walked up the […]

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