Monster in my head

His wretched claws grapple at me

they hold me back, my joy and I don’t meet.

His stare is vicious and clear

my little soul trembles in fear.

The stink of his filthy breath

drugs me till I lose strength.

For wherever I go behind me he remains,

my way to progress with his words he darkens.

For years hand in hand we walked,

of his sting and snare I had not heard.

In lack of knowledge,

and with a heart so naïve

I hugged him,

I cuddled with him

and yes, in close contact,

I held tight my own opponent.

How was I to know?

‘Cause to know I needed to grow.

And now that I’ve grown

with my whole heart I have sworn

not to look back

nor take one step back

to the rival who has had his claws on my skull

and his untrue and deceitful tales

hammering in my head.

No longer will he enter,

for now I know he is a hater

who only wants to tear down,

and then in an wicked laugh look down

on a soul that his own hand

has in disguise damaged.

27 Oct. 2008

Write through my hand

You have given me eyes

but they don’t see what i see.

You have given me ears

but they don’t hear what i hear.

For the things i see

are excessively gleaming with magnificence

seeking not to be seen by naked eye sight.

The things i hear rumble inside me

my nature does no understand what they mean

for they are beyond my mind’s uppermost imagination.

You have breathed into me

divine secretes of your eternal flare

and have made them known to me in abundance

transcending what i think i know by experience.

My intelligence is not established enough

make good judgment on the words you have lodged

in every breathe i take without deliberation,

your language goes far beyond my state of articulation.

Your Majesty,

Your words overflow beyond my wit,

so i write

what’s beyond my mind

because you write through my hand.

my head wrap

a vibrantly adorned fabric

covers my head in the air

until you see no hair

it looks slightly barbaric

to one whose sense is sick

yet i say it’s chic.

it covers my golden brown locks

that spring from my roots

and not just for my looks

for i refuse to lose

what drips from the deep

of the wells that have been

dug by the ancestors of my skin

it restores the brilliance

of my inborn grace

so don’t judge me of my mode

for the fabric on my head

is just one piece of the trend

that my land has crafted

-SenzyK