Woman

She's born of another
and to others;
a mother.
A friend like the rose
gentle and thorny
cultured and principled
free, like the living rivers.
All of her is beauty
inside and out
like how he desires.
She speaks truth
but in words;
moussed with fire
over a tongue that rolls;
whilst his kiss, is acquired.
She can foretell the future
from the feelings in her gut
that may have forgiven
the heavy soils of the past
but not forgotten its smell.
Inquisitive as a shadow, yet,
as mysterious as dark.
A conundrum, sunk in attraction,
as his approach
she meets with decorum
and a hint of seduction
watch you shiver to your liver,
tickle your spine,
like drops of frozen wine
as each eyelash, shuts against another
like; ka-boo--oom! -...
your brain capsizes; whooom!
you hear your heart drum,
as from her words she relays persistence.
Strong,
the power behind his very essence
yet gifted with palms,
that have minimal use of friction,
placed on your skin,
drives you to tumescence.
She makes him look handsome,
his ego, bigger than it is
her sanctum, innermost of which they both lay
site of eternal worship
isn't it amazing how she makes a house a home.
Yet all this she may
and everyday still hold her own,
is as a dove is, to the very core of her bone,
but her path if you cross as you may,
you'll find exactly,
where raging dragons lay.

Fimisola-Samuel

Schitzo's Note

The night is endless

the morning has no future

the day is blind

and at this point all hope is lost.

I stretched out my arms

they're pushed back by the bars of freedom

too much of it, left in confusion

a contusion of the mind

or yet maybe tedium

I find myself sitting in obtundation

and time cannot be contained

yet another day has walked

don't ask me how,

but it did just as it came; empty.
I cry out so loud
I hear it from a mile

Yet in my ears the silence rings

I have it all, humbled by my nothingness

what am I looking for?

if you ask me, its nothing I'm sure.

My thoughts racing,

like from morning through evening

sentences framed from pictures

of thoughts broken,
coagulated into colourful pieces

spilling out like juices of light

from the endless circling of a kaleidoscope,

bodily motions and gesticulations

to all of which I'm seemingly lackadaisical

you hear me and think;
"what a piece, so anecdotal
O! what peace it is not to care,
or know what the world thinks."
The grains of sand dancing in the wind
wondering along my lash
what a feeling of life

a gift I should be thankful for

a chance at normal, I pray for each day

though my ways unruly as they may

I'm learning to see peace in the eyes of the sun.

Today I took 2 tabs, with my coffee and tea,

as with each morning

but I walked down the bridge
read this and know,

so long I've been buried

deep within the belly of the sea.

Fimisola-Samuel

Picture by , Toon by