Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
My actions can no longer be defined
As I dance across the catwalks of my mind

I dare not let myself slip

Gazing down I see a faded clown waving back at me

Mouthing words that sound so absurd coming from a painted expression

''Descend so I can ascertain your motives'' it cried

Climbing down I see it's merely my reflections sense of humour and I screamed

''Suspend my silence for the sake of nonsense I suppose you have that
right!''

Startled by my outburst I watch myself begin to crack and falter

I panic knowing this is no place for a showdown

I fall at my feet and hysterically shatter for stability

Gathering up my pieces I mumble my motives

''How dare you disturb the cleanliness I have brought to this madness''

Putting them in my pocket I make my way back to normalcy
I stuttered for solidarity when I ate the plot line

A functioning madman said help myself because he can feel confusion

Shrill sounds of motion in colorful backdrops
Sometimes plastic faces make easy friends
But what does that make me?

I feel flesh when I inquire into my existence
But how do I know this reflection is mine?
Is this me?
Is this you?
I wait for an answer
But these walls echo anxiety

Shattered jaw logic solidifies fluid motion

It's stagnant intrusion makes minds break

Who can sustain a scene filled with such artificial means?

Quite the sight for a blind man's guide

Who in his shock let his master wander into traffic

A scream and a screech
Burning rubber for the nostrils
Broken glass for times capture
Watch it all with rooftop perception

Quiet relief inside a freak show
he says beauty builds inside
Shakes a snow globe
time stained hands
Sighs at the momentary show

monotony rules glass confines

Paper bag sneakers for a broken traveler
irony makes him cozy
No glory in starvation
he fell under a first worlds shadow
Broken by nutrition

Suited fiends
high on God
Demanding dollars for salvation
I only have pocket lint
But they take it anyway
Creatures of habit I suppose

I've never met a talking snake I didn't like

Stop
the
ride
please
Remember when we buried a stray
dog under the old church bell
in your backyard?  You said

the dog belonged to the *******
mechanic  south of the school
& his mom set the animal

loose because she was jealous;
it did not make sense
then, it does, today.
Morning Sunlight keens like a mother
cries for her dying child & leaves
abandon their trees

while fall presumes winter
will glower like black
ice

hard from
preceding
months,

where the promise
of spring seems
unattainable.
 Oct 2016 Ngamau Boniface
Leeann
The chariot of lost hopes
clatters down the cobblestones
of broken graves and broken hearts
Flag fluttering listlessly down the boulevard
The horses weary and drooping
their hooves heavy as air

The chariot of lost hopes
drifts unmoored
Its weeping driver long gone
faded away into the dark mist
headed to lands never sunkiss'd

The chariot of lost hopes
never makes a stand
Hopes dreams ideals slip past like sand
The whistle of wind itself
is never heard where this chariot lands

The chariot of lost hopes
is always near
If one listens carefully
with growing fear
The sound of empty hooves
gradually becomes clear
 Oct 2016 Ngamau Boniface
Leeann
You* would have to smash their skull open
Gouge their brain out
Scatter it into pieces
Reach out, reach in
Climb into their skin
Wear it; take it
Breathe the air they breathe

Feel the blood coursing through their veins
Feel every beat of their heart
Reach through their ribs and grasp it
That thundering, pounding heart and
Make it beat with your own hands
Ba-bump, ba-bump, ba-bump with every squeeze

Inhale every gasping, shuddering breath
From lungs crushed by every compress
Snap their wrist with the force of your grasp
As you take their pulse
That thrumming, faltering pulse
And make it your own

You would have to dive into their head
Step straight through delirium
Into the twin windows of their soul
Take those lovely, lovely eyes
Between your fingers
And hold them up to look through; each
The ultimate magnifying glass
Pierce their clarity straight through
As you refract the light away from you

Aqueous humor, vitreous humor
Flowing down a waterfall of tears
Tears of emotion? No
Tears running through flesh
Perfect fissures of imperfection

Can you hear it?
Thudding spasms
As they leap; a drowning fish
Choking on their own life
While the red crimson scarlet pours out in rivulets
So thick you could wade in it
Fanning out into a surreal image
A ****** halo
A renaissance painting reimagined in flesh
A living, dying mural

You would have to listen to every whisper
Each shaky inhale
Every wheezing, hoarse exclamation
Every shuddering gasp wracking
Their frail, jittering frame
As you pump air out
As you force air back in
Push down hard and feel; memorise
The rush of air as it leaves their straining lungs

Because then, only then
Will you be able to see through their eyes
Breathe their every breath
Feel their heart beat
Make their life-
A wrapped present so, so fragile
-your own

Yet
For all that you try; all that you do
You will never
Never
Understand their mind
Never
Understand their view
Never
Understand *them
What do you see when you only read the italics?
 Oct 2016 Ngamau Boniface
Leeann
why don't we slow down and watch the tempest
whirling so bright
the shattering of refrains
and the dimming of light

let's leap together through the beat of the drums
and tap our feet in merry dance
as we tumble and laugh
may we ourselves stumble upon a chance

as the fallen don't rise
and the risen begin to fall
let's sway together in step
at the haunted dinner ball

while the wind stirs the silent rushes
and the weeds sway from side to side
watch the ends of the reeds dip into the water
rustling slowly as they hide

listen to the tune of the grasses
swaying slowly to the beat
bending down over backwards
to make way for our feet

why don't we slow down our pace
watch the sky fly by
after all, it's never to late
to change our weary fate
the pieces fall into place
&
sometimes
the place falls into pieces
And always making mistakes
so I have to wait for someone
who understands and knows
that mistakes are human,
no matter how long it takes.
I would search instead
if I only knew where to start.
I have to wait for one who
will not only realise that
I'm a fabric of faults
but also find some perfection
in that tattered fabric
one with a heart in the brain
and a brain in the heart
Next page