The window

By the window, she clutched the curtain in a haunted posture

 Waves of pressure and multiple distractions streaming from the unbearable torture by the demons

Pupils dilated, an element of psychological hostage by numerous ghosts

Mouth lips reaching for a scream

The tattered dress, exhibiting the haunted soul

Messy hair communicating disfigurement

Uncut toe nails, well claws, drawing zigzags on the dusty wooden floor

Little did she know the first step into freedom was opening the window blinds, let in the light

Because light speaks into darkness and demons dwell not in the light

 Light strikes out ghosts

Light brings forth a new wave of life fullness

Light conveys positive vibes

Light makes clear the view of the flower garden, fragrance flowing just below the slats, untying the pressure knots in the brain cells

Soon she wouldn’t have to be envious of the free bird in the air, she would be the free bird


I shall rise

Though wither, rain shall pour on me again, I shall rise

The fallen brown leaves shall be the manure to my growth

Flowers shall bloom and once again I shall shine

Though a captive on the ground, wings dead, I shall rise

Soar high like an eagle, past treetops and mountain peaks

  Neither the thunderstorms nor torrents shall be a setback

Though sunken in the deep end, I shall still rise

With my hands I shall find my way up

Breathe life into my lungs

I shall rise

Embrace heterogeneity

Standstill, I keep my eyes glued to the sky

Slowly I nod in affirmation to my inner voice, “What a beautiful scene”

Not the blue sky, it’s the rainbow, too much beauty in heterogeneity, the different colors

And so when you hate on color,

Be dismissive of different characters,

Remember there’s beauty in heterogeneity, magic lies there

Open your heart and be wonderstruck by the beauty

The past

The past is a powerful engine, one that never stops running

Some days this engine drives you across experienced battles, loses, pain and frustrations

But it’s a matter of choice, does the experienced unkindness teach you to be kind or mean?

The pain, one that awakens when you see a ‘pain-trigger’, something or somebody

Does this pain source negative or positive energy?

Do the scars remind you to be unforgiving and vengeful?

Does the drunken father nurture a sober daddy?

Choose revenge, cause more chaos

Choose forgiveness, attain inner peace, less chaos

For me, the past has molded an alluring soul

Hate has taught me the importance of love

Lack borne a generous heart

Betrayal planted fidelity

Sickness opened my eyes, grateful for healthy days

Accusations drawn me into honesty

For it’s a matter of choice, let the past create a better version of you


Political leadership is no longer a servant leadership, is a self-service, self-service of public resources, in their accounts they deposit public wealth

Deceit is a mastered skill among politicians, crafty they win citizens’ votes, promises in bold print, they are just food for bacteria, feasting on binned campaign banners

Promise white, offers cream

Promise black but offers grey

Promise coffee, offers black tea

Promise gravel, offers sand, blinds citizen

To some elects, politics is an investment, business, very lucrative, thousands bringing in millions

Silence-bullets loaded, ready to pull the trigger, bodies of critics dumped everywhere, an approach to safeguard the lucrative business

Leaders tarnishing humanity, cold blood circulating in veins and arteries, unlawful eviction, brutal murder, skin receptors too numb to feel pain caused

Deception flowing from deep within their hearts, discoloring integrity, honesty and sincerity remain to be just meaningless nouns

Strategies mere master plans, unnoticeably they suck blood from the citizens, like a tick they fill their bowel

Dispatching oppression fragments among the citizens, in citizenry ship they deposit consolidated oppression fragments, sink it underground, citizens struggle to re-emerge

I long for the old days when democracy was “Government of the people, by the people, for the people”

Today, the ideal definition of democracy is; ‘government of the political elites, by the people, for the elites’


Eventually, the zero rounds off into a one

The one feels so light in the pocket, heart aches for more

Hands stretch for more, mind swirls around more

I love more, literally more of everything, more of knowledge about God

More of fictional narratives, more of ‘pragma love’ and more of avocados

Here’s the truth about ‘more’

More is a catalyst, greatly influences achievement of a dream or goal

More is a solution, solves intellectual and economic poverty

More is a bandage, covers up shame

More love is a mortar, fixes unwanted reactions among mixed groups

More enthusiasm and criticism is a revolution trigger, sends home mean authorities


More is an artificial gene that turns one into an animal

A hyena, gluttonous, selfish and corrupt

More is a steering wheel for violation of human rights

It lures greedy bosses into underpaying and overworking their employees

More is a blindfold, hinders one from appreciating the rounds off into a one

Beauty in the Broken

Deep in the eyes I could read pain

Cover-up smiles fading away exposing the chronic wounds

Fingers too weak to artistically draw the perfect future, sketches on a paper, portraying struggle

Lips tuned to the voices of inner demons, vocal cords too swollen to whisper a proper ‘it shall be well’

Sound waves of loses echoing in the ear

Mind blurred in between shades of grey, no more black and white

Yes, I know, the broken soul, but I chose not humiliation or mockery, in lieu I saw beauty, beauty in the broken

Eventually or longer enough but at least not indefinite, the broken pieces would be mend

Threads knitted tight enough, emerging stronger, stronger than before

Stitches highlighting a won fight, patches, in all colors, creating a beautiful fabric