A cup of admiration

A cup of loathe

A cup of hope

A cup of despair

A cup of security

A cup of lost

A cup of apathy

A cup of care

A cup of nothing

A cup of real

A cup of delusion

An empty stare

If I had wings I would unfurl

And soar beyond the ordinary

Seek new continents or worlds

Go beyond, explore the galaxy

But I have only cotton sails

Somewhat worn, now mended

And will instead spin the wheel

To rove the ocean splendid

Men have us cornered

With their darling

New World Order...

...I don't know, should I 

Die, or choose 

Hate on a stick?...

Raised to express

A deep-seated duress...

...There are issues 

With Manhood...

Expectations 

Of power,

That sour when

Tested...

...This attraction

To fight

Violence with

Violence...

Seen on News 

Every night...

...Flip uh coin,

And you'll see

There's a problem

With sex,

And the way 

That our world

Puts a prize

On our necks.

I WILL NOT

Play to cameras...

I AM NOT

Your soft touch...

...No Manchurian

Candidate,

With a button 

To push...

Just because you say:

"Blue, boys,

And girls are pink..."

Doesn't mean 

I'll

Believe you...

...Past the gate,

At the brink,

You will learn that

There's more to 

Your limited 

Views...

...If we run it

By clockwork,

Then we're all

Born to lose.

©

2017

Bunny Villaire 

                                Your Love was Like Snow:

               It made my world beautiful for a moment,

                                    then it felt cold,

                                  and soon enough...

                                    it melted away.

excerpt Midnight Memos about Love

http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B06Y6F3TKG

© Nokulunga Mazibuko

a bird flew to you,

asking why you looked so blue,

in reply you said you would rather be dead,

that it was all to blame on the voices in your head,

they'd never left,

not since day one,

it was of his life a theft,

he said as he lifted the gun

In Trying to make

me

Crazy,

Your created your own

asylum

and became

your own

and only

Patient.

Get well soon.

Nokulunga Mazibuko ©

What seek you amongst these broken stones?

He is not here

It is but boxes and bones

The carvings not even his own

Not his forms or even his soul

Go to the temple

That holds the hides and leaves

There is his handiwork

But will you find him there

Or just shards of his heart

Set in black ink

Where once it beat so warm

-Taliesin

only poetic when it

hurts.

only meaningful when it digs

too deep.

only important when your fingers 

bleed.

only true when you can't

bear it.

tried to touch 

that heart of yours,

and learning

that my fingers 

are not slim 

enough to fit

the spaces

between

your rib cage.