Unspoken Thoughts of a Man.

Unspoken Thoughts of a Man.

Be one with my mind and soul,
My spirit heaves from solitude and
the rapture of twisting and turning,
As inside me battles intensify and I
seal completely.
I have labored in the mines of love and life,
Presenting myself for examination of my vortex sensations,
That have shown my imperfections due
to my transgressions.
I have lived a life of rhythm and
dropping metronome,
After dusting my charred toes, living
and searching,
Trying to fit into what society has
molded as the accepted way,
But I have played enough,
Run through prayers and wailed
inconsistently,
For the verbalization of my feelings
has labelled me shady.

I have to write to sieve the totality
that runs around my conscience,
So I spill towards wicked revolutions,
temptations and revelations,
As the world’s rambling stomach,
hangs it’s bottomless mind on my
axis.
I’m a fool sometimes, but as yet
many times Hubble-bubble my insides.
I admit I’m ignorant –
I have personified my tracks,
Humbly falling in sessions of pros and
cons.
I seem unable to meet myself or face
the measure that defines a man,
Maybe I judge myself too harshly,
But I ponder …

Here I’m again, at the foothold of my
dreams and desires,
I can’t keep having this conversation.
In my tricky dreams-cape,
I have walked consciously and sub-
consciously,
Heralding the citadel of my vulnerable self.
I’ve been on love’s fragile and sloppy
fingers,
Chasing after girls who thread and
hung me by the noose in a well,
Yet I don’t find what I need,
For the woman I yearn for, lacks
bitterly in all the girls I seem to like.

I have heard the owls songs on long
nights,
And strayed once again to find light
in unknown places.
The consuming journey, burries sorrow
in the mouth of my failures.
I stand judged,
Interwoven in the mind and paralyzed
in the soul.
Seeking swaddled answers that I’m
not sure if I had asked the questions
first.
My slavery to whims has robbed
my faith,
Even as I keep fighting this cold that
mercilessly weathers me down,
Trying, as the pain shackles misery headlong into my source.
I have washed the devil’s feet,
kissing his cheek
While waging a personal, murderous
war against God,
But God has found me even at the
slightest rejection he camped waiting,
For me.

In my fruitless search,
My solitude frowned and with bitterness died in my arms,
As I was unable to fight for what’s
mine.
Having lived a life of watching and
walking away.
I need peace,
The sullen strings of music that skirt
around my talent.
My world has been cold but I prepare
for battle.
So I sing no more and string no violin
for others,
Rather this hush-less voice that
rummages my whole body,
Assembles and greases my joints for
there’s no more talking.
For none shall read these words, the
languid shell of my ignorant being.
I make an entrance that should have
been a grand return,
So I’ll fight,
There’s nothing left to be afraid off
and my efforts will bear proof and
fruits.

© Eddy Ongili

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