PLATTER OF REGRET

Pains from cradle; felt after conception

Dark pots of white inns; a king was born

Strokes, whips of pain; stacked agony of pains

There are pains of sadness and sorrow...

Pains that replace pain with painful pains

...

There are pains that exceed throes

Pains that chokes breath and lungs

Painstakingly embraced pains

Tall towers savages beauty in pain

Then, pains that cribs corners of hell

...

Women kinged by darn weaklings

Muttered pain in strings of solace

In stroke(s) of one, two, three...then multiples

Petches grains on pitch without enough

Left in pain; agony of destruction

...

If refused; ears are dent with tint of lashes

Offsprings like hair tuft; responsibility piles

Trails and grails in bout; exceeds indigence

Wrap of unclad kids roam they; notched madness

Sane but shameful; effect of aftereffect

©Tex (2017)

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I'M A LONE NINGER

I'M A LONE NINGER I saddled my cradle in a lone way Yet, comfort zone seeks I My beddings laid fallow on bed My rail wallowed without trails Wherefore do my pain born from? ... Perhaps, a vessel channelled me on Back on track race, motive to trace My ancestral origin behead nowhere For I lost grand and ground of care Yet, cracks and strokes at befitting future ... The fight fought, such beyond sought Presumably, pre-seeable; seen before then Now my heart heralds soothing breeze Without hope from hopeful points Yet, my bones wax stronger to life ... My bond, my half; mentored mine in me My origin stimulated independence My ancestors simulated I, such to grow For my (he)arts are borne of hatred My heart burns, born of confusion ©Tex (2017)

DISCORD IN OUR CORD

DISCORD IN OUR CORD On this day 1960, our freedom became free; Our rights became encapsulated, rights reserved. In sorrow we laugh; in poverty we ravel Of whose opinion was this idea; whose idea was this coined? Our well arranged room is visibly scattered, Box of books shattered; shelves lack notable stands. Yet, trolls of woes made in alarming tones ... This is our nation, like strangers we live therein. In our fathers land we were proclaimed bastards. Our rights dwindling as brain deteriorates. Yet! Giants we boast we are; of great intellects we suppose, Bopping on foreign materials as our sole hope. We're arm-ful, yet arm-less with vain-ful hope Like daunted sodiers in repeated failed wars ... Independence we celebrate; in-dependant we wallow. Like withering flower we derail; dryness obvious. A day to bulge woes; a day to celebrate. A day to ponder, meditate; to savage fresh fruits. Emerged a fixed day for undefined chaos, All in the name of freedom; we wra...

A BIT OF ME

A BIT OF ME I've got a clean face, yet kept a rusting one I've carved shoes that call on heaven To lessen my turmoiled havens Enchanting aura I carry around Like hawkers great deal of goods I know, you all wish to be me I know you wish to stay around me.. If not with me Perhaps, wallowing in laxities of time Emerged to be reason behind my enchantment Tumultuous points I've stamped Gave me the most fancied shoes You can barely differentiate between Sun's hotness and my head Can you relate to my rusting face now? I don't care what you label this Whether tale, story, prose or even poetry What you name it connotes nothing Likewise, bail me not from what, oh! who I am! But like you got me through in joy You've not seen a tad sorrow around Like I rightly said.. I wallow in God's laxities Only, if He never want me on till now Will He live to see me leave on like this ©Tex (2017)

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