Your Nose - My Business

My people call it "amebo", for your non-familiarity sake ; lets call it "longer throat". The phenomena whereby your neck so elongated, it's disconnected from the reality of your body. You can neither see the pit you're falling into nor the foul stench coming from your armpit. But you're the case officer of her life, often even self-anointed counsellor, therapist, judge , jury and verdict; and you're not even scared to play God. With all those judgements you dole out, it's safe to say we know why God 'rested'.

In this your play of chameleon, you justify your hypocrisy with false righteousness, but I can not condemn you and become you.

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The minds who fell out of time

To you what is life is to me where death awaits. Slow is to catch where the fire smoked. But to burn brighter than the forecast . A Sun sets slowly and lowly a fiery ball of doom. Steadily stealthy the night comes. Death awaits. But we are a people without time.

To my lover.

Photo by: Anjelicek on DeviantArt 2010 "Lovers by the river" You are the prayer that exceeded expectations. The reassurance that restores my life An unknown that became my guide Soul Tears that never came to pass You're misery that never actualised You are life, my life. To be by your side , life and death the same My beautiful hiba .

Aphorisms: critique of a poet.

Short , like our trust I can't even find comfort In the wriggly mind of a poet. A lost lifeline Reducing the seductive embrace of words To a few miserly tidings, Aphorisms. Promisingly put in the middle of a blank page Disappointing like phantom lover Haste. Noisy. Missing. Giving me no solace or thought Meaningless , like the love we hoped Only a poet could cure.

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