STIFLED

N
Need is what you’ve made yourself
I ride on you
…like a cross on a horse
And you gallop my thoughts
…to caves that save words to pave awesome ways
…for my muse
And create pain for my body’s abuse
Never nested in a nauseous novelty like yours

I
Interesting is your silence
Dark mysteriousness your gifting sounds
…crickety
…owly
…barks like cracks into wandering spirits
They lock me in your room of artistry
Though fear hawks its talks

G
Growling stomach
Eyes quickly blink and search
Nose opens wide at work
Neck turns to every sound’s direction
While legs use buttocks to pivot their turnings
You’ve got to be a myth in a quirky shift

H
How do I focus on God’s timetable
…to clean eyes when you’ve killed its rest?
How do I wipe the sweat of anxiety
When you’ve woven a hell of difference
…for my sole soul?
How do I slip in to flip the normal’s trip
Why am I the only guarding bird
…on this house branch
How do I see me in a be whose key
…has no known fee?
Just how?

T
To think that I cringe
…while the world sings
To think you’re a game many chase in a prayerful hunt
To think that I’m a Shero thanks to my resting zero
To think that I’m a stitch of abnormal norm!
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!
And the theoritical shouts that never fit practicality!

M
Mere men murmur my manliness
But know not the fire on which you have me wired
Mere mortals muse about my craziness
When the space of time rhymes my crankiness
I cry to have what they barely know they have
As they cry for what you and I know is a wrestling work
Will God ever be a happy creator?

A
Adjustment is good
…but eyes don’t lie
Appointment is emancipating
…but heart runs tired
Albeit I’m but one of your few chosen heads
…hawking provocations with their emblems
On night pans

R
Re-shake your options
…and help my directions
Remake your geniuses and change my classes
Re-pick your sticks to light your gifts
Shifts are needed in a kneading mould
…every now and then

E
Eden of the dark
Excellent inks that cuttingly mark
You confiscate my sanity
To elongate my humanity
You rusticate my norms
Just to suffocate my conformity
Won’t a blend help you trend in my impressions?

S
Ssssssssss
Shhhhhhhh
Serpents amidst sheep!
Fangs in angles!
Fires in cornered trenches!
Claws in reaches!
Whips for strips!
Wretches in stretches!
Shouts in bouts aiming clouts at the heat!
Save my soul
From these chains of coals!
For fame is a name which tames no body
…in rot race
I love to live and live right
…in this suitcase of transiency
Before I’m opened and pushed out
…to fall wherever
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © November 9, 2019