#ruddapoet

POETRY: My last script

From all the letters

I had the stage

after picking through every page.

There was patience

winking at repetition.

I phased out on fatigue 

chewed humor lines

I said some parts louder.

One character looked like mother

always patting my anger,

food served in a play

Eaten in my thoughts

but swallowed by satire.

Yes my last script for the week

Came through a broken door

with two of Father’s act.

I…

Long story in short words

starting from the time I moaned the hour clock.

My sinister pen chose a page

then took some actors and we’d them to the stage,

after a lot of bragging and paddling

they landed on some words as old as an aquatic horse.

I described this performance as yet to be done

so time wouldn’t fry its second hand.

Ha ha ha the audience would have clapped

but again I say it’s almost…

POETRY: Hold thy ground

Oh dear insinuator’

the father to vomitー

sons and daughters

sweet and bitter.

A synonym to shadow

unfailingly pure.

Righteously unstained.

Hanging on the wall

staring at my all.

I venerate at thy home and stead’

hoping you would say it as it is.

Life for life

Blood fore’ cloth.

Hold thy ground and share them high

spin my sun to look I’ve found it all.

I write about your taste in my eye

glowing…

POETRY: Poet’s Fee

Take my hands, dear words

free it from the pen’s burden.

Eat my heat, belch fire

I’m no longer dust from earth.

I am a pimple poem Read my lips, brick teeth

Keeping me here brings a gun

I am god, write death.

I can make and also take.

Ha! See how I use your mind

Dragging my hurried feet into redemption is not the way of my salvation. I have lived and is tired

my nerves itch as they’re wired.

Without soul feels my sole

Into the whole, I’d feed my hole Call my name about a hundred times

I will sleep without sleepers crimes. I am darn and done with the good ways

let the sun shift and put out its rays. I was made to enjoy this life

be it with a home and…

What do you know that you haven’t eaten,

having it all by your name

the wind, the dust, the sky and life.

You’re never satisfied like death,

always lurking with cricket sounds

hovering over the black dying mind of hate.

I know your type with choruses of poetry 

with sweet words that let you have it all

almost synonymous to God

Gone and gun down.

Two patriarchs in a winged angel

Taken

POETRY: Lock not my heart

Do not lock my heart with your key

This boat will shrivel and wet our fear

On this waters, diving in it will be a honey and a bee. I am a sailor whose soul is the fee

The goal is a love which we would share.

Do not lock my heart with your key The nights, the cold, those ones with only me

peering through crescent storms I always bear,

on this waters, diving in it will be honey and a bee. Open your…