FLUID She asks me, How do you do it? And I say, I wear myself, in and out, Like a winter jacket. Fluid, Malleable. I yield, Perhaps too easy. Resisting stasis. I’m not my own, Feeling, Flowing, Not being. At dawn, I binge on Azure, and roam the open skies. At dusk, I merge with the stolid earth, Becoming a busy mall. I am different bodies, All in one lifetime. […]
UNSAID FEELINGS First, I gasped for those lips, like the warm air I needed. Then I set my eyes at the back of these house, on the hills, stacked like mother’s yam tubers. then, I was salivating, losing myself at the front where the two oranges hung freely. Then everything was gone because I was a boy with no mouth. Later, I stood in front of father’s house and sewed […]
Empty heads opportunistic Doctors of philosophy Bent to ruin a system Taking quid as sorting behind And damsels naked in tears To tolerate scholars passed The whirling wind pushed The genius cried aloud Knowledge was abused Opportunistic pedagogue Fight, hate and feign Here I launch you -your nicknames Among myriad appellations The chamois and doom masters Tattered sires of adultery Adenbolistic, Akanistic and Dogmere Adenbolistic held the rod in tight […]
Following messages and pleas from a lot of persons, complaining, that the submissions period is too short, we have decided to extend the deadline. To this effect, we will keep receiving submissions till the 18th of March 2018. krystalpen spoken word poetry contest is a new contest initiated by krystalpen to rekindle and to celebrate the beauty of spoken word poetry with a prize money of #15,000 for the winner. […]
Don’t tell her you love her because your lips are sewed with too few days and greased with oblivion. Don’t sing her a love song because your voice was borrowed from the wind and is wandering in a faceless storm. Don’t give her the dark chocolate as love’s emissary because your heart is made of feathers and guarded with baskets. Oh gentle sojourner from the mountain towns! Love is the […]
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 […]
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.