BLOCK OF SILENCE

18 May 15:42

As time overtook age,a hidden constant within was by passing sound.

In time,growth was continuous for I and them that knew me.
In age,i met trouble and struggles older than me,but never bigger than this,

This vacuum of immense Thought Drop Silence.
I let it pervade my heart,watched it swallow my pride,roamed in it blindly as it shaped my mind.

That very dome of solitude ricocheted balls of confusion,
With every rebound the blocks crumbled one by one as sound occupied my cave.

Sounds of poetry,reality,love,patience,encouragement and Divine Guidance.
Now i pick up the speck of silence,on my finger tip.
And blow it away,in a noisy gust of emancipation from self-bondage.

By M.O.O aka The stringed harp

BIRTHDAY BOY

A lad so born,
Born, but first.
In some sense.
Though moments were tense.
It was a day, he shall.
Forget yet remember, all
For the stories on the events.
Still flow in his dormant vent.
But he erupted to what is.
He is so he searches for daily bliss.

Since its his day, he feels boyish.
Wonders whats the special dish.
He forgot, such days are no more.
Days of birth have become hard core.
Still he can afford a smile.
Laugh out loud hear able from miles.
Surmise the internal joy lives on.
Though stronger when years began with one..
Nineteen cheers for old birthday boy.
Ooh! Look! He's acting rather coy.

by Moses O.O

CURSED TALENTS

I dis-engage from reality,

Cast myself in written superiority,

Sea –talk to and with my pen,

Waving out sea lions hidden in the dens.

My imminent explosion!

Black palms of red pigmentation.

My loved ones cease

Motion when I sneeze

Words of reason,

Every emotion packed season.

They fathom not my intentions,

Real or mis-guided information?

I knock heads with them

Men care not, special women

Care most. What can I do?

This talent I shall sue.

Or wash it away with blessings,

Expelled by hearty in depth feelings

I’m cursed yes I am

I guess that’s why, I’m literally dumb

Ill swallow humility,

Vomit my poetic pedagogy

And for once be surreal.

In sincerity of being real.

By M.O.O

SMOKED

They LIT vice.

After sparking adulthood.

Between their fingers held white brown sticks,

SMOKED vice.

Filled their lungs with vice,

Polluted MINDS with vice. It wasn’t nice

Now they PAY the price.

The fumes engulfed their time.

No future or present.

VANISHING past vice.

Remembered good undone, by FLAMES.

That’s the skull, with the pipe.

The cigar. Pot, the smoke.

Viced latex, drinking spree,

Violence, murder, robberies, vice

Life… Smoked!

They smoked and lived vice.

I eat literate-moral white rice.

COOKED and raw, SEEN and experienced.

That’s why I detest VICE.

THROWING of casino dice, money.

Gambling novice.

Exchange of bullet caps,

Armory vice…

CCTV …tapes.

While I cast WORDS,

Saying no to vice,

In a day thrice.

They live/lived in vice.

I’m not vice… I pre-side-ent, righteousness,

In His image. The human way, doing good.

No vernier for my, MENTAL, pages.

By M.O.O aka Carswell Evol.

I AM THE LAST

I never knew life would find me.
Nor applied to be born in this generation.
Or originate from this tribe and culture.
Certainly not the first to echo my sentiments.

I know one thing,9th,1st,13th alphabets,
the final kind in my genealogy to poetisise my origin.

Forget the seeds,
I'm a tree of my own,
Branched by trials and temptations of life.

End of details.

Carswell evoL aka M.O.O