The Poetry Marathon

Actors are strange souls

We study life

My job is to become you

In a most authentic way

I study, I memorize my lines

I exercise and meditate ,I laugh, I curse,

I cry

I listen to the wise men speak, of things to do and not, I  have discovered that being me the best I can

Is

The gift the life the journey of crea

Like a roaring tide caught up in my blood

Like a raging river overflowing from a storm

Like a volcano erupting from the earth

Spuing forth boiling lava, with every cough and jerk

Holding on my life, as I struggle to give birth

May The Lord bless us, protect us and lead us to everlasting life

May his Holy Spirit fill us with the courage to bring forth holiness, never strife

May his Grace envelop us pour into us and allow us to never stray

May we always remain the light on the hill guiding all today

May his goodness always be in us to show others we care

May his gifts overflow in us to spread love joy and peace everywhere.

Eyes are blurry,l ights are dim

Ears stick up but hear nothing

You cannot get up the stairs

I have to carry you everywhere

Sometimes you struggle to get outside

Your sad look says, forgive me, I apologise.

You are still happy to ride in the car

Just go, I’m with you, you’re with me

My old pal ,saying farewell to Biggie.

Spider quickly glides across the ceiling trailing it’s sip my web

Flies, bugs, faces, getting stuck in the sticky trap

Small, medium,  taranjalian, hiding in the walk in closet

Crouching tiger under my bed

Wait in silence

Creeping along the covers

Tin toy drummer high on a ledge

Tin toy drummer boy you’re an antique,

Little boys in your day would play without end

Using their imagination fun had no end

I wonder,how much I could get on on eBay, inbox me!

Swirling around, invisible sound

Heart beats, heart beat, heart beats

Rainbow colours back and forth

I’m skipping, dancing, eyes closed

Laughing, giddy

Singing songs

Love you

Blessings

Peace

Joy

I am Kinte, Ghanian by blood, related to Kings, divinely loved

I am a Kinte Ghanaian you see,  Abrahamic kinswoman, royality

I am a Kinte Abraham’s seed, roses, all creation is subject to me.

I am a Kinte, I’ve been dragged through hell, my vision is might ,I am beautiful , I am Kinte, My blood flows through your veins. Our mother is Eve, unlike her, be not deceived.

Searching for a little girl, skin black ,she doesn’t matter

Searching for a her in the midst of the clatter of missing white guys ,searching for a high, led to death

Found Abigail behind her home tears in her eyes, bruising on her thighs .

Laying uncovered on the ground, all alone no one around

Suffered death at the hands of a friend? Who knows, who cares, no teddy bears ,no prayers

Thought it looked good, fresh clean, in a glass bottle, know what I mean.

Cold to the touch, hoped you’d like it so much

Cut a huge piece of cake chocolate of course

Poured into a glass, check date and the hour

Drank a big gulp, caught a lump in my throat

Gagging I screamed yuck this is sour!