Monthly Archives: July 2016

AYODEJI

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The sun smiled not on this crooked path; 
the one you had chosen for decades,

when barricaded smiles fluttered within

your hearts’ bars.

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Ayodeji, Let me walk this mile with you,

for the world to sing our daily songs.

Let not our tender palpitating hearts squirm

at the sight of tomorrow’s journey.
Let our voices trace paths like ripples

on melted burdens; 

and our fingers pointing towards fancied dreams,

that will rest; chauffeured on the rainbow’s colorful smile,

after years of teary downpours.
I want to behold your coupling thoughts,

birthing new generations.

Boundaries, diminishing at your splendour, and days

blooming like orchids in a field of greatness.
Ayodeji, let me be the reason you studied Geography,

and the purpose you chose this rock.

Let me see you travel around your past; shovelling,

and burying every wrong memory till they become

fossils irrelevant to the bellowing wind.
I want to cup your present with hands of care;

and cause other men to stare,

beaming jealously in unclad shame.

I want to rest, forever, nurturing little replicas of you;

when laughter and joy finally own us.
For you, my world will be rebuilt on honey tears.

Tears that will flow as an ocean; rowing your boat

towards my heart’s tunnel of overflowing love.

For you, the earth will tremble at our conquered feat;

a vision written on dotted sheets.
 
©Edwina ‘Neofloetry’ Aleme

BACK FORWARD 

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He was old enough to be my big brother;

The simple one who’s true self is cloaked

Behind the curtain a caring unsuspecting wolf

His craving for the sweet things of life lured little girls like me

Into his arms without the prying eyes of another his age; my parents

Neighbors call him names like, good, kind and compassionate

But to me, he was the big black wolf that lured this girl into his den

A den not filled with Daniel’s lions, but this Lion that wore the face of a sick man

This sick man who loves little black dolls

The kinds he can play with behind closed doors

He was the devil’s tool stirring my future’s pool with his magic wand

Sprinkling dusts of negative cravings for dark colors coated on this staff

The one he used to part the red sea like Moses, before Egypt’s hot chase

Chasing me swiftly like the wind to fall into that dark hole,

Falling slowly, headlong into the pool of my own blood

Like a flood ready to gush, I swam in the sea of my tears

His hands misdirecting my thoughts, he said “Do not tell”

Those words stuck in the darkest room of my heart

A room where this devil hosts regular rave parties for years

Having a co-tenant- the big black wolf

I can’t tell; his last words still rang in my head “Do not tell”

Like a ding-dong bell; an alarm, a reminder

Never to give in or never even falter

But I faltered; fell like a scale off the promise I secretly made

Let’s call a spade a shovel to dig up the buried blade

The one that tore my V; taking away the fore-skin; hymen

This craving for that touch from myself secretly whispering “Hi Men”

Yes, these high men made me high

Owning the secret pathway in between my thighs; I loved it

Secretly hated, but loved the pain that ripped my heart

My emotions separated from my conscience

Trying hard to mix the oil and water; lost my essence

Lost the future to North poles, that always stuck in holes

Trying to cover every one of my footprints for fear of evidence

Nothing helping, so I lived in pretence

Wearing a makeup to cover the foundation

Shunning the good girl; befriending temptation

For it was my closest companion; always in a union of lies

I listened to this lies told; I had to be bold

To take a journey into the line of constructive destructiveness

Diverse metamorphosis like my PMS

Someone save me, I can’t get passed this raping

This rape of my conscience, intermingled with the one who fled with my voice

Swimming in the waterloo of breakups

Always fixing time for touchups

To pad up the foundation and ready for makeup

Making up scenes in my head; a start up from the beginning

Reeling the pictures back to when those cold hands touched me

Stealing my innocence; planting thorns around my flower

Tearing and subduing my power; I cowered

Creeping back into the day I was born,

Merging my heartbeat with the tick of time,

Wishing I was back in my mother’s womb as seed form,

To be given birth to a new me; not smeared with this crime
 
 

© Neofloetry, 2015.