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Tears fall down as I look back and watch my life crumble before me
Like a glass thrown to the ground, shattered and scattered all around
Pieces unseen and blood drips from my feet
As I walk over the broken glass that is my life

Pain, hurt, strained, thorn, sliced open

Lay me down on a bed of roses
let its thorns pierce me deep
till death picks me up 
blood trickling down
to the root of the flower
stains the ground and
leave it as a sign 
that life was taken
At its will.


The lovepoet.

Death of A Poet

On that very day, I died

Laying on the bed, him on top of me I died

I died a slow and painful death

Death of the body soul and spirit

Death of innocence

Death of the mind

Death of my glory, radiance

Death of my beauty, brilliance

I died the death of my shining light

Death of my goals dreams and aspiration

Death of  my words

Death of knowledge and wisdom

I am nothing but a living corpse

I see darkness, void, and thorns

My soul cries out for help

Buried deep in the earth

My body lifeless

My spirit lost

I died inside of me

The  words that I once spoke

With life lay dead  on the ground

The words that once brought joy

Exhumes sorrow and sadness.

Slowly, my thoughts leave me empty

Death consumes my everything

My actions no longer have meaning

I am within spirits and the supernatural

I died a slow and painful death.

p.s     you can listen to Lana Del Ray's  "Young and Beautiful" as you read.

MY PEOPLE CRY

THE CRY

My people cry

they cry because they do not know who they are

they cry because ignorance has become their excuse. 

My people cry because they hide from the truth

they cry because they do not want to be themselves 

they cry because they refuse their heritage and language.

My people cry because they have been in bondage for my years

they cry over the shackles they wore for many years. 

they cry over mental slavery.

My people cry over the dead, then and now

they cry over the children they lost to the new world.

They cry  because they have been forgotten  as they forget their roots

my people cry over behaviours that show no respect, sympathy or love.

They cry over death that comes knocking every now and then 

my people cry because of animosity and destruction.

They cry for the lack of love between themselves

O my people cry!

They cy cause their women absence the African pride

my people cry over the past, for the present, and abut the future.

I CRY WITH MY PEOPLE

 

WEED

WEED/S.K./CANDY/KUSH/SKUNK
Sniff
Inhale, exhale, puff
This shit, this shit right here
Inhale, exhale, puff

This shit right here
This shit right here will
Takes you places
Puff, puff, pass
Burna’s Indian thing playing
In the background, yeah
I’m a Christian, not a Buddhist
When I inhale that grass
As the smoke travels down
My throat into my lungs
Inhale exhale puff
Fela’s image runs
Through my mind
Back and forth
Inhale exhale puff
This shit right here
This shit right here
Make me happy
Inhale exhale puff
This shit right here
Opens up my mind
I see dead people
Inhale, exhale, puff
Puff, puff, pass
Fela said so
I passed, passed
The fuck out.

the lovepoet 

Woman Of The Island

WOMAN OF THE ISLAND

skin as dark as cocoa

smooth as silk

the sweet plum lips that 

spoke the language of our forefathers

the way she moved her hips 

to the rhythm of the island

They way the grass skirt 

moved side to side

and the coconut cups

on her succulent breast

bounced back and forth

they way she stared at me 

her brown eyes piercing into

my heart, spirit, soul, and body

her movement mesmerized me

as she moved I followed

away from the crowd and

into the shadowy forest

the music began to fade 

now it was just me and her

right there and then 

she took me out of 

this world and straight

into heaven 

woman of the island

BIRTHDAY

                                               HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME                                            
                                                 I'm finally 21   YAY ME!!!!!
                                          

James Blake 'Retrograde'

This song just takes me out of this world and into another realm.

listen and enjoy

Love under the Full Moon

Love under the Full Moon

 Let us make love

under the full moon

and move to the

rhythm of mother nature

let our souls become one

as night breaks into day

let us be bound by affection

become prisoners of lust

let your passionate words

embrace me bare

swirl around my head

like a halo

as our hands knot

lips lock

skin touch

let the heavens open

and rain down blessing

of  fruitful seeds

let us make love

under the full moon

as our souls becomes one.

The Voice

     THE VOICE
A nation cries out
Loud in pain
For it has lost
One of its greatest voices
A voice of truth
A voice of patriotism
A voice of passion
A voice of creativity
A voice of strength
A voice of African pride
I cry out with my people
For we have lost a writer
An icon to be reckoned with
A man who fights back
Negativity with pen
And paper
A man of many stories
Who told the tale of Africa
In the right perspective.
I mourn such  a great  man
Chinua Achebe will  forever
Be in my heart and forever
Live through my pen.
                                           Wuraola Damilola

What Am I

WHAT AM I?

What am I to you?

Have I become a hoe you can call whenever?

Have I become your main trick who is at your command?

Has my body become a playground where you can deposit your kids

Is there an OPEN or All ACESS sign written on my forehead blinking with colorful lights

Is my leg constantly open for you to be tempted?

Is my HARD, IRON, STEEL GATES for you to open whenever?

Does a phone call represent a signal for me to know it’s time to please you?

ARE my Breasts for you to Cup?

My Butt for you to slap, smack and squeeze

My pussy for your dick to penetrate and fulfill earthly pleasures

Is my VIRGINTY, DIGNITY for you to take?

Is my INNOCENCE for you to turn into guilt?

Is my LIFE dependent on you that I have become your slave to crawl on the ground for you?

Do you see me as nothing but an instrument of SEX?

Am I to make you happy when your girlfriend refuses you?

Am I your last resort?

Am I not good enough to be truly loved?

WHAT AM I TO YOU?

Nothing but a trick, with open access written on her forehead.

the lovepoet

The NIGHT TIME SHOW with @bacardiB and @thelovepeot