He didn’t like the jungle.
He loved the speed
A two-legged wolf flying
– from vine to vine
– from swing to prance
His locks trail in the night light
Sprinkled with blue moonlight drops.
Above a pack of growls and blood-filled gaze
Planted on moss-stained branches,
stride across these rocks,
– water, splashing from beneath
These drizzles of light have
That is a smile you see
Wolves don’t fly
men don’t fly
He is a two-legged wolf flying
“We have made God
in our own image”.
My thoughts go out to him
and his family.
May he not weep for his blown-up
Or suffer under the privilege
“We’ve made God
in our own image”
Bear with me
while I ask.
What colour is he?
Does she eat bacon?
What are his dietary requirements?
Does she dab?
Then my fears found breath
and walked through the night.
Its wings burst through my shoulder blades,
stretching back to cling on to the low hanging moon.
It talons clawed out of my knees
and planted their roots in mud-stained roads.
Its hands held my breasts and pulled,
hoping to expose my heart.
I buckled and offered it
my gentle pacing blue heart.
There was no blood here tonight.
Not even a lake of tears.
There was only this spent knee,
ruptured shoulder blades
and vulnerable heart
wondering the dark street
of hope deferred.
She is five years old.
What does she know about Love?
She is five years old.
What doesn’t she know about love
She has innocence.
Beautiful as the first laugh.
Pleasing like the tears found in birth.
Her heart has found warmth,
a tickle in her belly. It rises
in the language of chuckles
and is planted as hugs and cuddles.
She watches me from her step.
From in-between a laugh, she
recognises the concoction of feelings
that have grown within her world.
This she defines as Love.
“”I love you too”.
In the wake of here presence
the night air sang,
the evening breeze cuddled,
the moon whispered her name,
the streets spelt her words,
the sun called out to her,
my footstep drummed her heartbeat,
the night air smelt of her,
the roaring cars called for her,
the sleeping birds dreamt of her,
the empty streets waited for her,
the crowded pubs praised her.
And the random man,
standing under the singing light
of the dancing bus stop,
paying no particular attention
to the colour in the wind,
the spring in my step,
the dance in my voice,
or the glitter that littered my steps,
My anticipation fills me,
brim spilling over, with impatience.
Time had not been our bond, my dear.
I am drowned in Joy.
as you walk with your smile
littering the streets.
You are very beautiful
my dear friend
There was a spring
in his step.
A string from heaven.
A set of wings in his back.
Another on his feet.
Propellers on his back.
Boosters on his calf.
Rotors on his head.
And birds lifting his shoulders.
a difference in his smile.
I smell joy.
I have four sisters.
I know how to treat women.
Yes. I am a feminist.
I have an asshole.
I know how to take good care of it.
Yes. I am a proctologist.
Inspiring a whole generation
Through snapshots and short films.
These lives are wholesome;
more complex than goal celebrations
crowdsourcing, runways and god crafted art.
I pray these little lads,
in their pony tails, grey jogging pants,
and spectacular free kicks set a’sail
on concrete pitches
and dust filled football grounds,
can stare a little longer at the blur
of victory pictures and snippets
framed for eternity.
I pray they find
in the blurry pixels
and within the muffled chants,
the whisper that sets their heart
on the diligence of the ordinary,
the tenacity of the mundane
and the perseverance
in the turbulent morning.
That seen in the washing of dishes,
sale of attention or the patience
grounded in the offering of a smile.
I pray you find
in the glory,
My streets were littered
with floods of conversations.
Pathways formed of a permutation of words,
thoughts and responses will sail through
on agitated rapids.
I was nervous
charged the air while your smile blinded my dark.
Suddenly, my streets once crowded, now emptily of words
The once crowded outside
now mimicked my company at night.
I was speechless. Again.
Your smile cut through my silence
filling me with desire.
I am caught in a good place. Again.
One of hope and sunrise.
Covered with peace and warmth.
Though trembling, I like it here
I was nervous but at peace.
I fear that I will ruin the glory of you.
Rupture the perfection and burn in regret.
But still, I hope for a sliver of you.
A sliver of your smile.