Come on in you're running late
guess no one can stop time
I see you brought an end time date
have a drink, it's on my dime

I reckon you know all the others
no need to introduce
friends, cousins, sisters, brothers
that vodka needs a little juice

Times Square's on the big T.V.
the ball's about to drop
were Mayans wrong? about to see
is world and time about to stop?

Silent wind carried away the lost word
Not written ever since it was uttered
Ricochet reflected in conception

The word took form in myriad realities
Expressing an endless order within
Of an unending cycles of reunion

This obscure word, not heard by man ever
Remains a puzzle in a ceaseless search
Set to undo that which had been designed

Oh, your love has untethered, unbound me
Heart beats an intimate dance, called romance
Your gnawing need for me, and mine for thee
consumes, alternate reality, a trance
I'm floating on cloud nine, sweet ecstasy
Ah, can this last eternally? perchance
Reflected gaze I feel like a beauty
My feelings broad as the oceans expanse
Your my soulmate, my best friend, my happy
No formula, not an exact science
except one on one, may add upto three
I appreciate our dalliance
Flirting is the fuel that keeps love red hot

MAY and DECEMBER

I waited for your call.
It never came,
It was 2:00 A.M.
No doorbell rang.
My heart began to sink again.
Every time you walked through the door
and I saw you standing there
I thought my soul would never bear
the ecstasy
When you ran your fingers through my hair
the softness of your touch spoke fire
and your caresses whispered love.
but nothing lasts forever,

you are May
I am December.

jewelled studs
stretched to forever
in an endlessly encompassing
quiescent deep

a panorama
aglow

an intangible taste
of a vast breadth
with future in potential
that shimmers just out of reach
.

20th December 2012.

THIS MORNING

Hills delicately touched
with seeping light of morning
dawning in the east,
they lie like icing on the cake of day,
the heavens tinted pink and grey,
pale blue a back-cloth
peeping through the haze,
the temperature ten degrees of frost,
a buzz of traffic dully reaches us
through silent roofs and trees,
the trees,
like statues of themselves,
there is no breeze.

DAWN

there is a mismatch between the Mayan
and
the Gregorian
current calendars…

earlier on, life was lunatic
lunar based
now it’s pragmatic
that is scientific
Equator oriented

hence you all are welcome
for breakfast at Tiffany’s
at 8.30 am sharp
22nd December

In the end it’s all about women.
When men create it’s not to emulate the womb,
it's to impress women.
Yes, about getting in her pants
but more about getting close

There must be loss and grief in the parting,
because when men are all gone,
women will remain.

I listened to the year of songs
Wondered on what to sing
A song of choice and preference
From Africa of my childhood
I stopped to laugh at the sound
My baritone booming big
In dialect songs of stories
Of folk lore and moonlight tales

It is now a year of poems
I have a handful inscription
But none of them has got a rhyme
To decipher my native ways
Of African thoughts to English
Like the struggle of the hopeless
A malfunction reflects the dearth
This terra firma bereft of text

KEEPER OF THE FLAME

I am the setting sun
bleeding crimson-red
Into blue horizon.

I am the moon riding
In a midnight sky
shrouded yellow pale.

I am the Keeper of the Flame
with a prophet’s name *
and when I forever fall
I will have kept it written all.

*Jeremiah= Geremia