THE DREAMER'S CHAINS



THE DREAMER’S CHAINS



You can chain up my soul please
But free the demons in me.
I am bound and yet I am free.
I feel trapped-unleash me!
Let me be the cascading waterfall that flows from the mountain deep,
The feather that contests with the whirling wind and the firefly that dares to outshine the blazing sun.
Set me free or I will cry a river full until it erodes the flesh of my vision.
My dreams cannot go putrid like poultry
Yes! Let my dreams flounce.
For what is the world without dreams?
Dreams that cannot ran wild
And bounce
And flounce.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

THE STRANGE TALE OF THE GREAT IROKO

The news of my father’s death hang heavy on our necks like the chains and shackles of a thousand Salaga  prisoners. The cries of twenty five newly widowed women pierced the thick darkness the moonless night brought, leaving it empty and completely dead. The only light that shone through the night was the happy flickering fire in Pokuya’s eyes. She was Papa’s youngest wife, and still in her prime. Perhaps, the sad news in itself was liberation to her forcefully captured heart, and as much as she wanted to hide how she felt, she couldn’t shed a single tear. She went unnoticed by the other wives who were stuck fast in a herbal bath of nauseating melancholy. Any woman who did not cry when her husband died was branded a witch per the custom of Nsuma.   I am an outcast. I am a griot. I am a loner who often sits under this Iroko tree with a chewing stick in one hand and my chin resting in the other. My bulgy eyes are pregnant with unseen and untold secrets of passers-by. No one...
Read more

SHOWER HEAD

Image
I cannot recollect the number of times I have found warmth in you… You understand my battles and you hear the echoes too The echoes in these walls where nothing ever happens Where hopes evaporate and happiness has fled And every day is a nasty war, bloodier than before. You have heard my chanting through the night Praying and crying for redemption from life’s sinking sands I find no peace here, I find myself in pieces here. So I run to you for comfort Alas I am weary and the tissues of my heart are worn out Worn out from the journeys they wished I had traveled in pursuit of love and the luxuries of life. Reignite my passion to live on without fainting Maybe I aimed too high.  Maybe I deserve the low I like how your waters burn my skin My skin reddens as I groan in pain But I crave your touch…It is the only reality I understand. Maybe happiness is not for everyone…. I learn this every day.
Read more

MY DEAR BROTHER, CURTIS.

MY DEAR BROTHER CURTIS I don’t remember exactly how he sprang up from a little baby to a toddler who was learning to take infantile steps. But I could care less. I was deeply transfixed in my own world of school, trying to keep up with the “Bookworm” title I had achieved. I never paid any attention when he would move around with his make-believe steering wheel, honking and pushing people out of the way as he drove his imaginary car. He would almost always metamorphose from the driver he was to “Buzz light year” and then to “Captain Planet” all in a day. But to me, he was just a little boy who was engrossed in cartoons, Legos and miniature cars – just like all the others. At night, when I would keep my feet in freezing cold water to keep myself awake so I could study through the night, I would watch my brother sleep on the couch and snore like a little pig who had had a hard day of bathing in sloppy mud. Like always, he waited for someone to whisk him off to his room. But that ...
Read more