learn ya.




I keep trying to teach you lessons I have not learnt

and mentor you on principles I am yet to master.

Still, empty vessels may inspire you to stay full.

don’t you think?


Bis spater.



Small and beautiful.

City on a hill, my city. my home.

Although temporary, I have formed bonds with your streets.

I watched the sun rise and set on your lanes.

danced around your squares and had my heart broken in your corners.

you have been kind to me.


Quiet and serene,

your calm has taught me peace.

I have found myself in you and found allies too.

Still, in you, I have burned bridges.

I have roamed your walls at 2am when my heart could not settle.

I have laughed and spat, and ate and cried.

I have loved you.


My city, my home, small and beautiful.

Sadly, I must say, the time has come, we must go our separate ways.

I must find another love even for a while, I must try.

There will be no other like you, none cosier, none simpler.

none who knows me like you do.

I’m ready still, I am not.


City on a hill.

my city, small and beautiful.

I will always love you.









I am calm.




the food in mouth has lost its taste.


This substance hovers, unknown,

It sits in my chest heavy and wouldn’t bulge.

My belly churns but my heart sits cool, it is used to this pain.

My mind holds a riot but my head is calm.

my bones need to protest but I have no zest.

my exhaustion is heating my skin, yet I am cold.

my members cry in commotion so I stand still.

I am tired.

I am done.

I am frustrated.

Then I am disappointed

I do not know what to do with this anger.


Its, handled ,its great, I am fine.


der Lugner


Bare foot I stand, under the weight of your hold.

recklessly I bend, with the wind of your lies.

easily I pardon your rubbish against the will of my wit.

bold, amusing, slick. you have always been easy to love.


you speak apologies, my strings come alive

you, master of puppetry

love-manipulations, both of one bloodline.

nobody tells you this.



I am my mothers daughter, I love you till my dying breath.

I am not my mother, I choose to live.




I wonder, who you go to when your members fall apart.


I hear you fix beings

do you ever run out of oil?


I’m told everyone leaves you better

still, where do you keep your garbage?


they say your light brings wounded bees

does your fire ever break?


love, they say your  chi is soothing,

you mend the broken, seduce lost beings…

the gods gifted you this at birth.



I wonder,

who heals you?



I wonder ,

who will lift your curse?







Young blood…

skin and bones….

waiting for a jolt, wishing for a spark…

something dances on clouds in my mind…unclear

soul aches, for a splash of ecstasy, excitement, something…

Body riots against cold water hoping to start a fire,

I am confined to this lazy life, painfully conventional.

young blood begs to burst free from vein gates,

heart aches for light, fire, storm, thunder, anything…

where is my mind ?







My mother has mastered the art of doubled edged dictions.

she has perfected ways to weave wounds with threads that bring you healing.

you are just like your father’  she says to me.





come, lover,

take your clothes off,

let us forgive our selves for all the time lost.


come lover,

shake my roots, rip my soul,

let’s delve into galaxies and  oceans of ecstasy.


look lover, 

the universe blesses us

your bitch is gone, my nippers are away.


quick lover,

now, sow your seeds.

my mate will be home soon…





Everything I never told you.

There are parts of me I have not yet discovered. Other parts of me come to live only when the sun slips Into its grave. There are days when I shock myself and days when I am irritated by how simply ordinary this soul can get.

Something about my space  brings me joy,no intruders just me. Still, something about crowds makes me almost glad, to be lost, feigning sanguine, wearing my extrovert perfectly.

I am my fathers daughter. I have no time for frivolities, sentiments, fervours or headless carelessness. Time is money ,it should not be wasted. Space is personal, it shall not be invaded. The head is the only organ that leads governace by any other is futile.

Logic is my foundation and trust is a fools delight. Still, something about you leaves me damned. love is for ignorant schmucks but you make me crave ignorance.

I want you in my space, soaking up air, intruding with no apologies, wasting time I don’t have,folding clothes you haven’t bought.

I want to fight over nothing and everything.

peace is paramount but for you, I’d start a riot, send my members to war and bask in their wreckage. With you, my logic quivers, head looses its hold and my heart attempts a coup, all of me slugs still, I’m willing, ready,I surrender….

when you do eventually break me, pray you leave flowers by my pieces, a funeral befitting.

There would be no recovery here..







tell me,

where do you go to escape?

Do the tales in books fly you swiftly enough?

drift’s on a spliff maybe?.


Tell me,

Do the chaos in crowds bring your soul calm?

brown liquor? does it whisk you away quick enough?

or me maybe?