MYSTERY
OF THE FIVE HOUSES - Soonest Nathaniel
I
At the house of light bulb,
there is fog.
The man with the child in his eyes
has a cat which sits daily on his lap,
gazing constantly at the big sky,
searching curiously for Peter Pan.
In the warm room,
the Lord of the Reedy River sleeps.
Under the ivy,
The handsome cabin boy sips
his cappuccetto grosso.
there is fog.
The man with the child in his eyes
has a cat which sits daily on his lap,
gazing constantly at the big sky,
searching curiously for Peter Pan.
In the warm room,
the Lord of the Reedy River sleeps.
Under the ivy,
The handsome cabin boy sips
his cappuccetto grosso.
II
At the house of silence,
they pose riddles
that only the dead can answer.
The grave robbers
do the dance of the dogs
before unearthing secrets.
The wolf and the raven
play the peacemakers
in a debate over greed.
No evidence against the black sheep,
the alibi pans out,
and again the tomb becomes a womb
from which the fetus of truth is aborted.
The dead pity the living,
as slaves beg for the cadavers of other slaves.
they pose riddles
that only the dead can answer.
The grave robbers
do the dance of the dogs
before unearthing secrets.
The wolf and the raven
play the peacemakers
in a debate over greed.
No evidence against the black sheep,
the alibi pans out,
and again the tomb becomes a womb
from which the fetus of truth is aborted.
The dead pity the living,
as slaves beg for the cadavers of other slaves.
III
At the house of leaves,
the roads fall out of the windows.
the decomposing trees make for bridges,
bridges over the gulf of ignorance.
The children of rain
join the roots to their school,
underground.
Their chlorophylls have been extracted,
they cannot carry out the photosynthesis of their existence.
the roads fall out of the windows.
the decomposing trees make for bridges,
bridges over the gulf of ignorance.
The children of rain
join the roots to their school,
underground.
Their chlorophylls have been extracted,
they cannot carry out the photosynthesis of their existence.
IV
At the house of jealous lovers,
the keeper of storms
opens the floodgate,
and the rooms overflow
with the rage of angels.
The weather is an equation,
the weatherman altered the arithmetic,
and the victims of mathematics
are stranded.
There is no sailing away
on the ship within the bottle.
the keeper of storms
opens the floodgate,
and the rooms overflow
with the rage of angels.
The weather is an equation,
the weatherman altered the arithmetic,
and the victims of mathematics
are stranded.
There is no sailing away
on the ship within the bottle.
V
At the house of memory,
there is a shrine of madness.
Pieces of glass litter the floor,
there is a song on the lips
of the broken china.
The clock has lost its limbs,
no one remembers
the dance steps
to songs of the season;
the world is ill,
she suffers from future syndrome.
Dead children smile
from wind-kissed pictures.
There is a woman left brooding
upon the ledge,
it’s the gravedigger’s wife;
her lover is coming home tonight,
he is coming to attend his funeral.
there is a shrine of madness.
Pieces of glass litter the floor,
there is a song on the lips
of the broken china.
The clock has lost its limbs,
no one remembers
the dance steps
to songs of the season;
the world is ill,
she suffers from future syndrome.
Dead children smile
from wind-kissed pictures.
There is a woman left brooding
upon the ledge,
it’s the gravedigger’s wife;
her lover is coming home tonight,
he is coming to attend his funeral.
Soonest Nathaniel
Sometimes it takes four months and three hours before noon
to get offered a rejection fee,
a fee to have you quit dreaming,
a price to bury your passion,
a stipend for your honour.
You feel disappointed, but that's a good thing.
The hunger in the eyes of the disappointed shows no shame,
at least not in this city where the belly must be fed,
even if only with the honey spurn in the skull of the desecrated…
Yes, you too will feed from these skulls,
the craniums hung on poles,
poles used to mark boundaries,
boundaries between the living and the dead;
here or there are no standing spots for the living-dead,
you are either hot or cold, no god here to spew you from his mouth.
They say those who answer missed calls are lost in a flash,
but you are not afraid of mutation
you are not afraid to look back
if it is the only way forward.
You let your words take action,
forge verbs into machetes
to clear your future of its macro stench and venality.
You use their rejection fee
to buy yourself an acceptance,
life is a citadel offering no degree,
you graduate to matriculate again,
now they hear you mutter this refrain:
"I was raised by a woman who sits like a man".
Soonest Nathaniel
REBIRTH - - Soonest Nathaniel
Every moment I close my eyes in sleep,
I pay by installment
I pay by installment
the debt
I owe death.
I awake to dreams,
life springs from the grave,
we are grains.
I owe death.
I awake to dreams,
life springs from the grave,
we are grains.
There is a path to germination,
the seeds flourish
when watered with affection;
but love is a file
lost when stored
In false memories.
the seeds flourish
when watered with affection;
but love is a file
lost when stored
In false memories.
Believes
and fears
pass for evidence,
liberty needs glasses.
There's an end to faith,
subject me under your hypnosis,
for I love the xenoglossy of dreams.
and fears
pass for evidence,
liberty needs glasses.
There's an end to faith,
subject me under your hypnosis,
for I love the xenoglossy of dreams.
We don't fall in love
by fluke,
hope is a stillborn.
Ours is an unholy war,
Won by heroes of sand.
Yours is a bleeding heart,
acid rain stream from the eyes,
cry no more.
by fluke,
hope is a stillborn.
Ours is an unholy war,
Won by heroes of sand.
Yours is a bleeding heart,
acid rain stream from the eyes,
cry no more.
The dogs
Have eaten the children's bread,
Yet our ship is sailing
On the river that flows forever.
Have eaten the children's bread,
Yet our ship is sailing
On the river that flows forever.
We have passed the dark fields of pain,
We are headed for the secret garden;
It's a one way trip.
We are headed for the secret garden;
It's a one way trip.
Breathe in
breathe out;
exhale all your delusions.
Trust me,
dispose of your suicide machine;
the rose grows from concrete.
There is music from broken flowers,
they become screens;
I mirror myself on the petals of time.
breathe out;
exhale all your delusions.
Trust me,
dispose of your suicide machine;
the rose grows from concrete.
There is music from broken flowers,
they become screens;
I mirror myself on the petals of time.
It's been a long day,
The stars say goodnight.
We'll rise again
from where the sun sets;
Wake me when I am free.
The stars say goodnight.
We'll rise again
from where the sun sets;
Wake me when I am free.
Soonest
Nathaniel
THE FORGOTTEN - - Soonest Nathaniel
On this day,
Thunder remembers
An abandoned town,
there
where
It snows all summer.
These days
No one remembers
The dance steps
To songs of the season,
The world is ill,
She suffers from future syndrome.
The living
Saddle themselves
with keeping the corpses quiet,
They say letting go
Is a form of love;
My mother loves books,
Particularly those that are gone out of print.
She says
There was a river
Flowing south-westward
To join that another flowing south
of four brothers pass;
It lost all its tributaries,
So the river died of thirst.
We too die of thirst,
we share our mother’s health,
Always trying to live it again;
We see the robed world
Through god's naked eyes.
At the prayer ground,
We look up at the rolling sky
Seeking for the seventh proof.
So tomorrow’s people get stuck,
Struggling to grope on loss,
Holding on to the memory
Of a yesterday
That never was,
That never will be.
We are fighting to keep our sanity,
We are fighting to prove our existence
Soonest Nathaniel
THE LAST MAN BOOKER - - Nathaniel Soonest
-
If
they ask you, tell them… -
If they ask you
the Finkler question
just as you walk down
Wolf hall,
tell them;
tell them it’s the year
of the gathering,
and we must return from
sea
to get our own
inheritance of loss.
Tell them we live a
life of pi
and only hope
on the gods of small
things
to give the last
orders.
If they say
the depths of our minds
are way too
shallow,
stressing the
need
for precise axioms and
definitions
to capture the ghost of
departed quantities,
then tell
them;
tell them we solve the
differential of our existence
by counting small
stones,
and need not their
almighty formula
to solve the equation
of our utter confusion.
Tell them we can fix
our stochastic systems,
and can find the roots
of our own identity.
If they say
we must go offshore
sailing on Schindler’s
ark;
tell them;
tell them we are
staying on
though we’ve heard of
the siege of Krishnapur.
Say we know there is a
rate of change
and can tell the circle
is bound in continuity.
Tell them that amid
life’s heat and dust,
we have learnt to play
the conservationist.
And if they ask
why all the patriotism?
then tell them;
tell them
for too long we have
plied the ghost road
where the phantom of
Paddy Clarke silently screams.
Tell them we’ve been
caressed daily by hunger
on this famished road
plied by old devils and bone people;
savoring the remains of
the day.
Yes tell them,
tell them we are
satisfied with dearth and death
in our possession;
for we are midnight’s
children,
observing the rites of
passage.
Oh tell them,
tell them we are poised
to cover the erotic
distance between dreams and reality
when speed and time
share a sweet romance.
Oh tell them,
tell them we are
natives of trouble
just seeking a good
name for bad sleep.
Nathaniel Soonest
Soonest
Nathaniel
EUREKA! – (poem of the
month)
My mother holds regular debates with
Newton
beneath the apple tree.
Free spirit
she knew nothing about gravity;
she won't be pulled to the earth,
her children's ambitions were reason
enough to defy dogma.
Life had always tried to submerge
her
wholly or partially in mud, urine and
feces;
but she remembers there will always
be an up thrust,
so she displaces her fears and acts
in the upward direction.
She knew only the righteous blind
with see the rising sun
at midnight.
So she kept trying to inscribe
spheres within cylinders,
kept trying to make perfect circles
of every given triangle.
Always solving for the exact number
of cattle
in the herd of the sun,
always counting the number of grains
of sand
that will fit inside the universe.
She will say: "we must acquaint
ourselves
with the objects of our fears,
we must look the worlds in their eyes
and say to them 'do not disturb our
circles'".
Mother will always remind us
that though our hopes dangle
like the testicle of the pendulum
clock,
still there will be sweet-marah
from the eyes of the crying rock.
The day after her last debate with
Newton,
I decided to creatively forget to
dress,
I decided to consciously unmask
myself.
That day, I hung old skins in new
shelves
and ran into the streets shouting
Eureka!
I knew my mother had finally won the
debate,
I knew she had to leave for she was
fulfilled,
she was convinced that she had taught
her children,
the Archimedes of existence.
SOONEST
1
I still do not know what you found
When you looked through the windows of my soul,
Into the hull of this sand castle.
I wonder if what you found
Was just my fear, or the truth
About how women become leaders.
2.
You say you will stay
Through the storms,
I say it leaks through the thatch,
But you remind me,
We cannot leave
Saving the plants to the environmentalists.
3.
I say it’s a season of grief,
You ask me to savor the salt
And see through the tears.
You say we must learn to walk
The Brazilian wilderness,
By seeing the world through Abrahams who never cast away their
lots.
4.
I say I cannot see through silk to silicon,
I say I cannot see through the eyes of innocents.
But you say I am a marooned child at the shoreline of time,
Searching through the eyes of Katrina.
You say I must learn never to rush through the early days of
childhood,
So I am learning to see through the crack, I am learning
through vanishing point,
The essence of space.
5.
You ask what do I see through flowers,
I say I have never seen through the eyes of an artist.
I ask if you could have your baby
Through egg donation,
You say it’s all anemophily,
Your pollination is through the air.
6.
Nne, my doctor who sees life through the patient's eye,
My teacher who teaches Maths through nursery rhymes;
At your foot I am learning to appreciate the music through the
dog's ear.
Mommy, I am learning to hear God through the noise.
I will convert myself through hymns, I will forgive my sins,
For through this sister's eyes, I realize that I am not alone.
Soonest Nathaniel
The Sacred Trail
\[Track]:
On troubled weekends,
I eat green pepper, put on my purple suede shoes
and ask myself; ‘Do you want to dance?’
I wait to see the evening walk down the sky
with the sun tucked in her hand-purse;
and at the exact monkey-time,
I steal away; get on the road again,
and take on the thousand miles of misery.
\[Footpath]:\
I too seek relief in the sacred trail,
so when the pressure of this complex city
thins my blood and benumbs my brain,
I join the seventh generation of children to come,
the new interpreters of nightmares,
those chosen to bear the burden of memory,
and we walk into the streets to hear angels whisper,
we walk into the streets just to have a chat with the god of
walkers.
\[Forest Road]:\\
We take in all that nature has to offer,
listen to the poetry of feet treading on grass.
In trying to comprehend the truth outside ourselves,
we surrender all our fears and all our illusions,
for we know it is never too late to redeem the day.
We walk upon mother earth, placing every step carefully,
lest we trample and mar the faces of unborn generations;
we never forget those who stare at us from beneath the ground.
\[Holloways]:\\\
In the silence of diverse landscapes, we find a vast presence;
we go to places without a path, just to leave our own trails.
The desire paths were eroded with love,
so we walked the line between sacrifice and satisfaction,
carrying the prayers of the world upon our feeble shoulders.
Through the sunken lanes, we learnt the liturgy of seasons,
we understood the topology of affection
and we found the homotopy of greed.
//[Trail]:
We met the sleepwalkers at the garden,
they spoke to us in the language of the soul,
they taught us the cleverness of seeds;
we learnt how to pray to the god of small things,
and we fed the spirit of the land.
In seeking the richness of life,
we asked for insights as to where next we should go,
and they replied, let your thoughts make pathways in your mind.
//[Towpath]:/
At the bank of the canal, we unearthed a truth,
we discovered the trail does not end where we lose it,
so we journeyed on, walking rapidly and happy.
Contented, we enjoyed the scenery of a detour,
we escaped the actual confines of our flesh,
and became eons; we became one
with the light,
the air and the waters.
//[Bridle]://
Our final journey home was on the edge of the sword,
but we did not panic, for we knew that sweat-soaking days –
will end in a cool stream of achievement.
Ours was a rediscovery of the self,
an ambulation of the mind.
we began to think in rhythm to our steps.
In confidence we came back into the main road,
for we knew we had earned the right of way.
//[Grand Concourse]:///
At the intersection of roots and convictions,
we parted ways, an urban sprawl of trendsetters;
each one returning to cultivate gardens,
each one seeking a closer walk with the divine.
We all returned home to plant and shed seeds of new lights,
we returned to give mother-earth one more reason to live.
With the grains of sand in our shoes we built temples,
and by these monuments, let it be said that, we who are limp are
still walking.
Soonest Nathaniel
SOLILOQUY
The
silent night holds memories
Like a
little boy holds his cotton candy
At a
park where he feels lonely
Even in
the midst of his friends;
Nobody
notices his presence, not even when the music ends.
Tonight in
the silence of this house of dreams,
A
distant voice whispers,
It
says: ‘you can’t have my promises’;
It
says: ‘sometimes bad things happen for good’,
It
says: ‘the principle of pleasure is pain’.
Earlier
today, the world gave me a rapturous applause,
So tonight I
have returned to the mirror,
I have
come to stare into its eyes
And let
the man within the glass
Lay on
me his rebuke or grant me his pass.
He
doesn’t seem to remember me,
He says
there are songs I cannot sing anymore,
He says
I will never be enough;
I show
him where the sun lays buried in the horizon of my smiles,
But he
says even makeup won’t work their miracles.
I say
our love was born on the open water,
He says
every love was born to die,
I say
we took an oath before the silent witness,
He says
we love to rehearse minor tragedy
As
comedy for our comic relief.
I say
all my pathways lead to you,
he says
it is foolish to walk barefooted on broken glass.
I say
let’s go to the fields and catch the light,
he says
the sun doesn’t shine anymore
even on
Sunday.
They
say all good things will come,
but
nobody said how long we would wait in the storm.
In this
lonely hour, all I hear is the hiss of the night rain,
the
voice in my head continues to chant it’s infernal refrain,
and I
want to ask him: ‘can I have your life?’
SOONEST
NATHANIEL
BASE
– Soonest Nathaniel (poem of the month)
Refrain: Have your own way love
have your own way;
thou art real number
and we are the base.
1. Neo
Below the shafts of time,
we distinctively treat portions of our history.
Smear the baby's face with lanolin,
and find another use for the sullied bath water.
2. Realm
At the sixth link,
we take the sawdust out the square canvas sack
and draw a starting line for an already finished race;
who says there must be a perfect starting point to achieve a
logarithmic existence.
3. Through
We go in through the outdoor, travelling back into the future;
we have come to make salts,
we, free pairs of electrons donating ourselves
merging into a covalent bond of morphemes,
into a meticulously punctuated eternity;
and let no assumptions of guilt render void the alibi of the
veil.
4. Gaining
A fickle public's demand fluctuates the price of honour,
so we defy the old English law and tenants demand rents from
their landlords,
beggars stretch forth withered hands, snatch the wealth from
the jaws of ferocious lions.
5. Maker
Unbelief is the religion of cowards, so they make a god in
their own image,
and ask angels to fall in worship, but Jesus has refused to
die twice,
the wandering Jew has left the nursery bed which laid near the
wine dark water where he was transplanted.
6. Sending
We drink the blue sea and eat cakes of clouds
to make a statement over the hunger in the eyes of the
disappointed,
but even those who were sent to gather the bones of the people
we love were charged with infidelity.
7. Thankful
They say the sayings of a nation marks its character,
so with the monocles of experience
we have successfully carried out the alchemy of our existence,
purifying sweat and tears to become universal elixir of our
own immortality.
8. Vain
We do not laugh at our own vagary
for we know that even dirt can be made holy.
9. Conscious
We too have been taught another way,
we know that fiction bears a truth that history can never
comprehend.
10. Kindle
We have ventured into the unfeigned dark, there are no fireflies
to light the path
but in the heart burns a lamp, its wick is made from passion.
11. Raised
In our pockets lie our rejection fees, stipends to have us
quit dreaming,
but we are not afraid of looking back for it is now our only
way forward.
So with their rejection fees we would buy ourselves acceptance
and remind them that our mothers did not raise fools.
12. Base
And when the verdict has been read in the court of posterity
where history bore witness for prophecy
regarding the issue of our righteous apostasy,
may we, the new interpreter of memory
find in that era of incarnate apoplexy
a tongue to chant this symphony:
Refrain: Have your own way love
have your own way;
thou art real number
and we are the base.
Soonest Nathaniel
BUILD MY GALLOWS - - Soonest Nathaniel
The signs
are everywhere
everyone
can see them
except me
because
they are written
all over
me.
I have been weighed
in the balance.
are everywhere
everyone
can see them
except me
because
they are written
all over
me.
I have been weighed
in the balance.
The wanton
scribbles
beautiful blasphemies
with blood
on the wall,
the seer's mind fails him.
He can't interpret,
He can't understand
again,
the language of memory.
scribbles
beautiful blasphemies
with blood
on the wall,
the seer's mind fails him.
He can't interpret,
He can't understand
again,
the language of memory.
He is drunk
with the wine of novelties
served from gourds
made from the skulls
of prophets
before him.
The sons
will do the time
for their father's crime;
their tomorrow
died yesterday.
The light
is gone out,
cursed are they
with the wine of novelties
served from gourds
made from the skulls
of prophets
before him.
The sons
will do the time
for their father's crime;
their tomorrow
died yesterday.
The light
is gone out,
cursed are they
who are led
by their shadows.
by their shadows.
But I’ll rather be led
by shadows
into
the meadows
where uncertainty
certainly waits.
For
like a Christ
longing to die
to save a world
that craves not to live,
so I long for you.
If only
to touch
the helm
of your garment,
and fall off the
tapered-edge
of this flat earth.
They say
love
must be
given time
to ferment,
this wine is ready,
I have served the best
first.
So tonight we drink
from the eyes
of the broken man.
Today
I found
a long rope
to hang
myself;
so tomorrow,
I only want you
to build my gallows.
There is a city
in the eye of the needle
only the poor
like myself
can go in.
Watch
how I tread,
through the desert,
of course,
without a Carmel.
in the eye of the needle
only the poor
like myself
can go in.
Watch
how I tread,
through the desert,
of course,
without a Carmel.
Soonest
Nathaniel
BUBBLES - - Soonest Nathaniel
The promises
in my children's eyes
have been replaced
by a history of hate,
stones boil in the hearts of the disappointed.
The sun goes down
and tradition ends,
I watch them
consume their cultures,
the world has been fed poison.
My daughter paints
on her pillowcases,
ink splattered all over her shabby bed,
by the corner, a doll is looking for her head.
History is inverted.
Brilliant obituaries ask questions,
my daughter is thirsty for answers,
but my mind is a well welling unwittingly;
I'm trying to re boot my memory,
I want to be ready
For when this city
Begins to have sex with itself.
Soonest
Nathaniel
AFTER MAKING LOVE - - Soonest Nathaniel
After making love
we hear footsteps,
familiar thuds;
bodies entwined,
souls departing down
the hall.
The bed is a battle
floor,
children spoils of the
war.
There is something
romantic about a lover’s snore,
but who goes to sleep
while strangers guard
their door?
So we hire a goldsmith,
take the lavish gold
out of the empty bags
and weigh the silver in
the balance;
we make idols.
Love makes men afraid as grasshoppers,
so at noon we
make noise like dogs
going round about the
city;
and at night we make
our beds to swim
and water our couches
with tears.
In dreams
we bare the legs
uncover the thighs,
pass over the river,
but there is no one to
answer when we call.
She left
and Eden became a
wilderness,
no tree to be desired
to make one wise,
we die to make old
friends,
we kill to make peace.
Light so bright
it becomes darkness
the diviners have been
made mad.
We drank of the wine,
we drank from the
prophet’s skull.
Make crowns of thorns,
Jesus will die twice.
Lay her, that perfect
sacrifice
at the altar of fame.
We’ll make God in our
own image,
we want him to change,
we want him to feel our shame.
Soonest Nathaniel
COFFEE MEMORY - - Soonest Nathaniel
The coconut hits the floor and mothers wean babies on
spilt milk,
Gods drink cheap wine as they watch Venus decomposing.
She never wanted to dance in her evening wear,
She asked, what will the neighbors say?
The day after, three birds began to sing by your windows,
They cry on the panes.
You lose your religion,
you drink the potion concocted in her
mystery.
She left her longings when she got off the boat,
She left barefooted, her shoes lingering at your door.
In your closet still hangs her favorite coat;
You searching but can’t find you pride on the floor.
You urine begins to reek of coffee and antibiotics,
You are drowning, river deep;
You stretch your hand to find your personal Jesus
But she has refused to bear your cross.
The cockroaches make babies in your bed,
Porno movies begin to play in your head.
But you swore, you swore never again
to go skinny-dipping with apparitions.
So you eat green onions,
Put on your blue suede shoes
And dance with yourself.
You get on the street again to stalk shadows.
Two turtle doves lead you,
You follow their trail to where the ashes lie.
The dog with a wet nose
Narrates the tale of how angels die.
You stop by the dockside
awaiting the return of the tides.
Fear is a gondola; you sail away into the stream’s heart,
Hoping this small boat will founder beneath the waves of
dreams.
You are washed ashore,
No rest for prophets on the sea bed.
Sometimes moving ahead
Is returning to where you have been before.
You get on the train homeward bound,
That which is not willing to be lost is easily found.
She’s sitting right in front of you,
hair so soft, so succulent, the ferns were nurtured by the
dew.
You breathe, buoy your spirit
Perceive the smell; it is her you can tell.
You touch but she can barely feel it,
She’s deep asleep, you can only pray that she hears you weep.
Soonest
Nathaniel
SYMPHONY OF DREAMS - - Soonest Nathaniel
On the outskirts of town
lies a spoonful of dreams,
at the crossroads
the troubadour will find
the true shape of things.
I’m on my way,
they say love is spreading
over the world.
I listened to the radio,
they say clothes don’t make a man,
So I go naked
to the old town
to fetch a bowl of summer sunshine;
to begin again.
lies a spoonful of dreams,
at the crossroads
the troubadour will find
the true shape of things.
I’m on my way,
they say love is spreading
over the world.
I listened to the radio,
they say clothes don’t make a man,
So I go naked
to the old town
to fetch a bowl of summer sunshine;
to begin again.
Dreams call out to me,
they call me into the ocean
of your smiles.
Love is a lonely harbor,
regrets are ports;
but this is no song for injured love.
This is a symphony of the forest,
the wayfarers passage to life.
The masquerade is over,
tonight is a Moondance
at the garden of remembrance.
Tonight is for wandering of the womb,
for walking the clouds of unknowing,
for seeing with broken eyes.
they call me into the ocean
of your smiles.
Love is a lonely harbor,
regrets are ports;
but this is no song for injured love.
This is a symphony of the forest,
the wayfarers passage to life.
The masquerade is over,
tonight is a Moondance
at the garden of remembrance.
Tonight is for wandering of the womb,
for walking the clouds of unknowing,
for seeing with broken eyes.
Tonight,
the cursed,
withering and wishing
shall gather fragments.
the cursed,
withering and wishing
shall gather fragments.
I’ll sing for dinner,
savor a drop of silence,
and drink the midnight mist,
for I know the solace of shadows.
Tonight is for fleeing the bloodlust,
to plant a seed in the womb of fertile fantasies.
Tonight,
I go,
searching,
seeking,
reaching as always;
tracing back roots,
of fire,
flesh
and bone.
savor a drop of silence,
and drink the midnight mist,
for I know the solace of shadows.
Tonight is for fleeing the bloodlust,
to plant a seed in the womb of fertile fantasies.
Tonight,
I go,
searching,
seeking,
reaching as always;
tracing back roots,
of fire,
flesh
and bone.
I’ve been around for too long,
so no asking from broken statutes,
no looking into mirrors,
I’ll find directions in your eyes.
Tonight,
we dance,
we dance
to the symphony of dreams,
we’ll let the music set us free,
So at dawn,
we can sleep,
when we are dead.
so no asking from broken statutes,
no looking into mirrors,
I’ll find directions in your eyes.
Tonight,
we dance,
we dance
to the symphony of dreams,
we’ll let the music set us free,
So at dawn,
we can sleep,
when we are dead.
Soonest
Nathaniel
A NOTE FOR SMALL MOMMY - - Soonest Nathaniel
The day I called you mommy, I knew like the 3
year old boy in primary who won't let his mother leave for work, that I won't
leave you, I knew like that boy I will wait brilliantly in class, half the time
relishing the joy of a mother's warm embrace; and my lust will fuel my legs
ready for that race into your arms again after the closing bell of joy is
tolled.
Did you fall asleep mommy? Did you drift as I
tell now the tale of a boy whose eyes were always on the clock, urging it to
tick away the light of day, to that time when he like a sheep long gone astray
may return to his mother's fold.
And the world will wonder how he passed his
exams, but who will tell them that at the school of his mother's thighs, he
often recalled in love all he had learnt only just to behold the smiles on her
face and the glint in her eyes.
Who will tell them that for every correct
answer, he got a kiss, and often some dry fish to show he scored a great
point.
Small mommy, I am that son, who would outpace lightening itself, just to be next to you, with palms stroking my hair, while i purr lost in your care.
Nne, I am that boy who your love made into a
man never afraid to cry, who learnt from the slate in your eye, that for every
woman loved, the earth finds another reason not to dry up and die.
Mommy the day you called me daddy, tears seeped
through the crevice of my heart and welled in my eyes, for I knew that the
baton had been passed from girl-to-woman, that this child who must father the
man must drink his childhood; to womb dreams whose reality the world earnestly
awaits.
Adanne, I knew that in the school from which
graduation is impossible, I had found a teacher, whose motherly care will keep
me in class; I won’t be shy to show the world my report card, for you score the
sheets, and love is the pass mark.
Soonest
Nathaniel
THE EXTRAS - - Soonest Nathaniel
They come
in a second skin,
these passer byes,
ever seeking a second
chance
at first place.
Drunk on caffeinated
dreams,
fed fat on bowls of
memories.
Wishing is a skill,
they wield it best,
but
only dogs know
how to be happy,
it is human
to believe
in that heaven
which we will never enter.
The lizard learns
from the chameleon
but
only cats know
how to be sleek,
only snakes know
how to be sly,
these bats cannot
comprehend
the value of their
darkness.
Theirs is the other room,
built with accidental
geometry.
They understand public
grief
but must laugh at their
father’s funeral.
And when all the mourners
go home,
They rise and make love to
silence.
The morning is for
disguises,
they says peace is up for
sale at the mall.
but for the extras,
their is a glass fence to
scale.
Who will pick a pebble
to unravel the riddle,
maybe these
window-shoppers
can go in
and buy themselves
a chance
a second chance
at the first place.
Soonest
Nathaniel
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