clzover: Ray Caesar

clzover: Ray Caesar: "Last week I was surfing the net on my trusty ergonomic split keyboard (I can type like a hopping demon, but no one else who comes over seems..."

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Drop a tear of love upon my whoring heart
and i will find bleeding conviction to glue my scattered emotion
upon your dusty traveler face.

You find me ,on the shifting cliff of old wounds:
Bucket in hand,
frantically scooping remaining clots.
A poisoned whirling sea beneath me
Dark , ugly and twisted

I asked you to stop walking here a long time ago
...this sea will take you now

RE: on anger, timing , change and truth

In this place: where truth be not told for fear of loosing the lies that have come to be our bedfellows.

You are the victim of my fallacy and i, my conscience.

But through the veil, i find a way home.

Home to my brick conjugation of safety.

Home. To where i can approach you without a scald.

I may pass again, a stricken stranger on your path of citizenship.

Leave a sign so i find it quick enough to stretch my hand.

Will you take it? Or will you be again a a man of honor? and draw pins through these emptied veins?

Your Diary In My Hands.

Your Diary In My Hands.

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You hold my hand in flight
each time my spirit flees this settlement of reason.
It happens at full moon when only the wind can  follow
and bend the path we blaze.
...come with me.

WITHOUT ROOTS

through the journey i rode behind the jolting bus and reminisced.
soon...
soon...
and my heart smiled.
soon i would glimpse Keta,
the jewel of the ocean that sired me and many.

i could barely wait to see gleeful children in tattered clothes rush to
greet me,
mouths wide with grins of anticipation,
old arms of aunties around me.
to smell fish, baking in the sun, smoking on fires, sizzling deep in hot oil.
to stub my foot on forgotten fish bones in the sand.
to laugh with Enyonam about my adventures in the city.

but when i alighted from the bus,
i found rubble and stone buried beneath huge waves of water...
in the stead of our house.
where is our family house?
no one to greet me.
only a cradling fire in the distance and an echo of bewilderment in the
stillness of the night.

where went our land?
after the bare bottomed children have swam and played, to where will they
retire?
shall day and night be spent in the embrace of foreign soil?

where went our land?
the tide came and went.
when it was gone, so was our house and land,
sucked into the hungry, roaring belly of the sea.

i drop my bag and begin to walk.
to where?
i don't know.
where does a girl without roots go?

FOR ALMS SAKE

We went to beg for alms,
so they called a roundtable of vultures 
and passed round a basket.
Each dropped in it a metallic coin with glee.

I peeped in the basket: 
It was the same old basket 
lined with the grey of age,
the straw at its sides ripping slowly apart.

When it got to the end of the table,
it was barely full.
So they called their butler.

He stood before us all and, 
pouring pressure and complexities, 
he filled the basket.

We wanted to leave then.
But the sound of metal life against itself
in the basket weighed down our pants.
And so with our heads bowed, 
we reached deep in our pockets, pulled 
out our few gold coins,
wrapped them delicately
in white handkerchiefs 
and handed them over.

Then the tallest among us cheered.
We all prostrated and gave our thanks.

The most leprotic of them lifted his glass 
and everyone accepted his toast.
The deed had been done,
the deal closed.
Sitting back up and looking from face to face,
I saw men become swine.

From the centre of the table,
there was a loud noise then
I saw spider webs push out,
rush in all directions,
and bind each beggar 
'til we were forced to drop the basket.

But we could not have our Gold
nor our white handkerchiefs back.

So in the end, in the end,
we went home with only 
what the butler brought 
clinging to us

Gone mining

Underground is where i live
because its where you fail to look when you search for me.
Beneath the earth. Thats where i dig my tunnel.
Like a creature of the earth...in the belly of the earth.
I heeded to run with my head low.
Till am ready to see how much ground i covered . Then i will shield my eyes and straighten up.
So next time you meet with ama and she wants to know which way i went.
Shrug and pass on by.
It is not yours to say.
But fret not on my tunnel
nor call out at its entrance
in it i find my minerals...underground is where the mines are
if we meet at the end of it, i will smile and mouth all the hellos i missed
so till then my friend

The apocrypha . 'wisdom of solomon'

For in wisdom there is a spirit intelligent and holy, unique of its kind , made up of many parts: subtle
free-moving, lucid, spotless, clear, invulnerable, loving what is good
eager, unhindered, beneficent, kindly towards others, steadfast,
unerring, untouched by care,
all-powerful, all-surveying and permeating all intelligent, pure and delicate spirits...
The man who rises early in search of her will not grow weary in quest , for he will find her seated at his door

Fickle feet

So i named u my dream and made u so.
Spent my moments building a tomorrow to look forward to.
Made the promises that i now boldly break.

And while u stand in the astonishing transition of time that echoes after my hurrying feet...i hear ur questions and though i have me a book of answers, there is a consistent summary running through.
love is not enough.

mud

There are many things we do in life
that are fueled by reasons
Work, play, addictions and sometimes even religion.
they pay the bills, make you belong or fulfill a need.
But they will leave you dry at a time when you need deep soul watering.
Reason: they do not nurture your soul
What nurtures your soul, is what i call MUD
It is the earth the creator set aside in you after he breathed life into you.
The raw untouched and perhaps alien part of you that you are yet to familiarize with.
The mud in you, is your ultimate essence.

We are all pieces of mud. Breaking down in time to complete the whole
What will make you at peace with the final inhalation?

whatever you do, you cannot transcend the mud
Do not seek. Simply be.

You need to find the path to breath it and feel it
because one day the whole will inhale you: permanently.
to exhale you...eternally

awandering i went

Goodmorning...(mid morning to be precise)
so i woke up today wondering : sade's 'soldier of love' really should have been 'soldier of life'
cos its so apt in a non-love related way.

then day progresses and i start wondering what to do with my day. i have no excuse to go to work.
i keep wondering and this leads my mind to wander ...and woman in words is where i ended
:)