The stream (all workshops)
I won't be buying £4 ketchup,
Nor any other over inflated thing.
I won't be buying expensive coffee,
Greedy people can go swing.
I won't be giving my loyalty,
To those who rob us blind,
I won't be lining the pockets,
Of the greedy and the unkind.
I'm not sorry for my opinions,
Nor the decisions that I make.
I don't feel sorry for the greedy,
Not the actions that they take.
Do you hear me?
I know you don't
Confinement, I don't speak.
I want to.
When I do, there's
Repetition,
Iterations,
A barrier holding me back
Words leak
I wonder when I'll explode
Or will there be silence?
An abandoned voice fading away
Out of existence?
Do you hear me?
For I did once.
An awakening joy
when it comes to see
for mankind to
foster prosperity
with harmony
present in a scenery
display on the sky
with the smile of joining
hands together in unity
through the sharing of love
from the spreading seed
to convey the message across
it needs to start with everyone
educate our youth and citizens
to build trust and understanding
with an open mind to hear
to let hatred goes free
instilled respect and care
promote peace here
to make this world
A stilled night
makes me to wonder
the chirping sounds loud
but esoterically and mustering
Sing aloud with kinds of tones
Cricket tiny voices
and big toad voices heard
Their joint coordinations so Amazing
But I ask who taught them
harmony in a group demonstration.
(C)Ibeawuchifrederick,2023.
Come to my mountain
And take what you need
Mercy and grace
Forgiveness and joy
Go to the valleys
Where death lays in wait
Where my child struggles
With pain and deceit
Where the lies of the devil
Seek to destroy
All I have given
To my beloved child
Speak to the dry bones
And bring down my life
Bring down my hope
My healing, my truth
So go now my dear child
In faith and new trust
Obedient in my truth
A servant faithful behold
I hear someone say this,
pointing to the random plants
growing free and wild along the trail.
These “weeds” have flowers of amber,
crimson and violet. Beauty that has much to express,
but maybe too faintly in a clamorous world.
But this is why we love this path.
All the raiment of flora is exactly this; untended,
free to find its way to where it will be
and what it will become in arrangements it chooses.
I wrote a song for the moon
But because I'm a jealous lover
I did not want the stars to hear it
So I wrote it on a note
And gave it to the breeze
Time goes on,
I stay alive.
But as the days pass,
I am standing still,
never changing,
What comes next?
I'm almost an adult now,
In all my prowess,
Yet my child-like mind remains
I find myself,
and I have, found myself,
Unrecognizable
Every reflective surface, shows a Lady without a name,
Picture frames, of a child alienated
I could've been smart.
I could've been something special,
Shaping up
to be an epic epoch
a descent both like
and unlike
others
fall from a promontory
promise so high
some hopes realized
too many more unrealized
knifed in the back
another empire
hacked from without
brought down most grievously
by evil within
spinmeisters driving sin as virtue
truth subverted for political expediency
crime dishonesty
craven behavior
regarded with leniency
to outright endorsement
She is the voice of my own soul,
my sacred, secret sorrow.
The only day for which I long
to dawn on me tomorrow.
As well as breath that beauty breathes
beside the deep blue ocean.
She is a wistful, wild gazelle,
whose grace evokes emotion.
In youth, when silver moonlit beams
all met to merge and mingle,
to form a precious pool of pearl,
she succoured me when single.
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