A Little Bit Of Sunshine

I've taken too many elbows to the chest And received a stuttered sorry in return... until they turned around and saw me,  eyes almost dimming in relief  As if to say, oh it's you that takes too much space I found myself muttering in apology, arms folding in on me Not to protect myself, but everyone else from this scandalous sight.  How silly of me To believe that what grew out of my body of its own accord, could ever be inappropriate That my existence was by default, explicit  As though I was born with an R rating on my face Always tugging at my skirt and adjusting my shirt Why don't they adjust their gaze?  I suppose it can't be helped, one way or another I am after all, a miraculous wonder The beauty of daybreak  with the grace of nightfall  I don't mind your looking at all.  But herein lies your mistake: I am not for the looking.  My body is a machine with its own programme and priorities...  a biological system running on food, water and air Very last on the l

My troubles are not the kind  you can outrun with your feet They're attached to me like a weight Pungent as a fragrance, altogether unpleasant  Not that it stops me from trying.  I run without rhyme or reason  No destination in mind  Then, when I'm all out of road  And there's nowhere to hide I sink into myself like a stone I retreat, to the only safety I know  Somewhere deep and long forgotten  where no one can hear me scream And should you peer  in the windows to my soul Or trouble comes knocking  It would appear, that no one is home.

Of all the days of the week - I hate Sundays the least.  I spend my afternoon  soaking in simple pleasures,  like slow sips of tea,  slipping out of my church shoes  As jazz croons from the old radio station  I dance barefoot to 90s tunes.  There's nothing quite like taking off the weight of Monday from my shoulders  Unclasping Tuesday from my wrist  Washing Wednesday off my skin  Or quietly reminiscing Thursday evening  Regretting Friday For Saturday, seeking redemption  Then it's time for a warm meal  with the people closest to me.  If I had it my way, it's all I would eat - this tiny slice of heaven  at the end of the week. 

Qhakaza : An African Fairytale  Gentle star,  no one sees who you are You shine, not in the night sky But in the daytime As we go about our chores We all tend the crops by hand But there's something different  about yours There's a buzz about you  a subtle vibration of atoms we can't quite place  A warmth in your face unsettling to look upon Every once upon a new moon We see why (they behold you with fear) : You don't belong here In the darkest hour when all hope has dimmed,  Comes you   Incandescent and unflickering You glow Not up high, but in the lowest of lows places you wouldn't expect light to live Planted like a seed, one with the ground.  A heavenly body beneath our feet Our beloved star in the tribe     

" I am not the dancer I was   in my childhood days  but under your gaze   I have been emboldened to sway Along the thrum of your heartbeat..  I am quite light on my feet"     "My hands are too soft for  labour and toil    Yet I am compelled to dig     in the field of your soil    You carry about you a layer  of dirt....    warm, soft  and down to earth" Go to :  Conversations in a Deserted Diner Pt 1

Depends on who you ask, my bank account would say nothing My journal would say everything It feels like I've traveled back and forth between emotions and logic and rebellion Just to look down at my feet and find I'm still rooted in place.  I am overcoming challenges and facing my  fears, scaling mountains and returning forever changed.  Only to return and realize I still look the same in my Tshirt and jeans I am tired, with nothing to show for it Thus, is the life of a poet. And that right there, I can't help it.  My every conversation and prayer and thought is sprinkled with rhyme and metaphor without my intending it. I'm like a can bubbling over without a lid.  And constantly I am filled, like I'm due to burst any moment Birth some achievement or so is my hope Mostly, I just float day to day. I try to be good, do enough to pass inspection And I try to feel, feel good. I don't sit in one place for too long I linger on an amazing song And I talk to God. Sometime

  To you that heard my whispers  across the ocean Felt my turmoil in your bones,  I felt your conflict beneath my feet like a stone Like a crackle in the air were your cries to me Do accept this frail rope of connection Not long enough  to swing anywhere Not strong enough  to pull you out of anything Just to know someone is there.   I'll listen for you, when I take my evening stroll I'll listen for the song of a sweet little bird..  Wings worn and weary How long have you crooned without being heard?  We that are being set alight like an errant weed, recognize the sounds of agony When you are settling in for tea And aching for company Save me a chair Know that I am there.  And I like it sweet.

Chaos need not crackle and combust Or rage and shout It can ebb and flow like a river Silent in its destruction It splinters oh so delicately, unfurls like a spool of thread  It flutters just so  As a feather tossed and blown by the breeze, that from afar appears to be dancing  A peaceful calm sea That rips and bubbles and churns underneath  It's the tip of an iceberg It's in a fetching smile, heartbroken all the while It doesn't always glare and hiss It carefully caresses your hair Leaving you dizzy with a kiss Don't ever dain to think all quiet is peace.  Peace is not something you keep.  Scratch and yell and tear If you dare.  If you must shatter, take all the plates with you  Peace is not only philosophy and scripture  Peace isn't passive, peace isn't weak It's unyielding and stronger than anything  It can't exist, I think, without conflict You're not breaking the peace  (you can't break what wasn't there)  But defending it,  And allowing

I've set aside a few items Nothing fancy, but they'll keep you warm in the night... I do hope they fit. You may wanna sit by the fire a while, lest you catch an evening chill.  Let's not speak of tomorrow  Or talk at all if you please.  But here is an evening meal And safe shelter in the storm.  (subscribe to receive post updates)  Email address: Delivered by alilbitofsun

  A growing seed yet to be field So endure the pain, and frequent bouts of rain  The time is near  Your labour and toil will not be in vain 

"Did Shakespeare have a job?  ...are they still hiring?"  -someone desperate Experience  : I once worked a solid hour trying to resize the date on a particular piece, and then I scrapped the whole piece and started all over. Skills  : Oh, my skills? Well, you see, I suppose...you could say I have a knack for knowing where the comma goes Along the street where I take my noon stroll Should my path intertwine with an old woman, manning a stall of fruit She sits smack upon the ground I reckon, in more ways than one To behold her is unpleasant To be her, all the more Her feet are soiled Her skin hardened by many days under the sun If she did at some whimsical moment, choose a life for herself I know, with strange certainty It wasn't this one And what of the young man, standing by the butcher block Shoulders beset with gloom Chopping and weighing meat?  Had he sat in school one significant day Sat up in his chair and exclaimed,  There! That's where I'll end up Callous,

" Did Shakespeare have a job? ... are they still hiring?" - someone desperate Experience : I once worked a solid hour trying to resize the date on a particular piece, and then I scrapped the whole piece and started all over. Skills : Oh, my skills? Well, you see, I suppose...you could say I have a knack for knowing where the comma goes. Walking down the street, there's a woman  to my left, selling fruit She's smack on the ground I reason, in more ways than one  It hurts to look at her,  soiled feet, hardened by the sun.  This wasn't the life she chose, was it?  On my right is a young man, chopping and weighing meat Did he sit in school one day,  snap his fingers and say  That's it , that's my dream I am not callous  It occurs to me there are ends to meet And mouths to feed I'm just afraid, of my dreams dying  a slow and painful death The path of success feels like a subtle threat Of anguish, of regret And still, time is running out on me Very soo

It didn't feel like love at first,  more of an itch A restlessness in my salon chair I was nineteen  and my mother had just instructed the hairdresser to fix my hair.  There was something eerily familiar about this scene: The tools and scissors  Gloves A chemical smell And clinical hands  We sat in line like patients awaiting treatment And how I wanted to be healed, to look like the girls in the magazines.  For the boy I liked to think I was pretty.  And then, at last Silky soft and straight  It slipped through my fingers,  it flowed down my neck It did what I said But deep down I knew ,  I knew who I was.  Wild and untamed  And I couldn't be contained with a container of relaxer cream.  The real me, hiding in the edges,  waiting for safety  She'd creep out soon, by Tuesday next week It's admirable, really How she rebelled again and again It struck me then, she didn't want to be fixed I kept going to the doctor's office  when I wasn't sick.  Except ashamed,

Lyrics: Verse 1 Hey, God  If I've any prayer to pray Any request to require of you this endless, aimless day God, I ask for nothing  but that you  Give my heart a song to sing Bridge Just to carry me through...  A gentle hymn A simple tune,  Of violin and soft flute.  Verse 2 Give my heart a song to sing It very well may be  that my worries continue to wage war with me.  And my enemies enrage me endlessly That anxiety attacks again And fears fight me fiercely  That my struggles are far from the end  Bridge 2 Still, on this I depend My face will not be bruised  so long as it looks upon you  My heart will dance So long as it sits in your hand.  Give my heart a song to sing    

As though I am likely to forget  not crawling on my hands and knees  to drag in a single breath, of fresh air  So much is pressing on me, weighing  down on my chest  What will I do with my life?  Which card shall I play next?  If anything, ask me to breathe LESS  Less .   

Strolling on the salty sea shore,  slippery smooth sand sinks and shifts As the tantalizing tide tickles our toes.  Lovely ladies laze on loungers,  legs laid low.  Beach bums bathe before sunrise.  Bright bikinis bustle in the breeze  as beach balls bounce by,  kicked by keen kids.  Fresh footprints form under firm flip flops.  Dock divers drop daringly in the deep wild waves whipped by wind.  Humid heat hangs over our heads,  holding our hats hostage.  Giddy giggly girls gush at gorgeous guys.  The guys gleefully gaze back.  Children chase the cunning crows that croon.  Pelicans perch upon palm trees.  All in all, an amazing afternoon... 

14 June 1966   Dear S You never gave me a return address.  The world is vast and beautiful  As you guessed  But you are no less Dear S I've hung your letters up on my wall As proof that someone ever  cared for me at all. I want you to keep this one  tucked in your pocket.  I'm sorry it took this long  to find its way to you. See you soon, L Go to : Imaginary Pen Pal Pt 1 Imaginary Pen Pal Pt 2 Imaginary Pen Pal Pt 3

Sharon ,  Do you ever think of me When you bite into something sweet?  I remember, you know, how you loved  your treats.  I remember our tired forms making our way down the street, backpacks full and heavy. I remember your laugh, infrequent And light like a tinkle Oh how we giggled,  till our stomachs ached. Between the dusty shelves of the library, we held something too precious to break.  I wonder if you miss me at all When you walk down the same street Is there a void where my arm used to be?  But more frequently, I wonder if you hate me...  If in my efforts to tuck you into my chest,  I made you feel less.  If in my attempt to keep you in my world,  I reduced your worth.  Maybe I lead the way so long I didn't realize you hadn't followed.  Maybe I spoke too much in my effort to cheer you up.  If I'd stayed silent just a moment  I could have seen you, really seen you.  Not as a needy soul. But a whole being.  With an identity and personhood,  unattached to my hip. 

Do you feel it through the pages... How badly I want you to like me? To think me cool, clever...worthy? Maybe this is all a ruse,  unknown to me still  To fill this hole of empty.  Cover it up with vanity To get a pat on the back, to matter   to someone, anyone, out there.  Maybe I am grasping at thin air Looking for a lifeline to hang onto.  After all, I have few friends and no plans for the weekend.  All the weekends.  My outfits are assembled by way of lottery system and well,  my hair could be pretty if it weren't for neglect.  No one is blowing up my phone  I barely know my ringtone.  How silly it is, to think myself better Enlightened, chosen Because I don't drink or smoke or post.  But it is here, tucked in my words  That I am a little bit taller, tad bit shinier So beautiful, so very beautiful  Here, in the confines of  this world  That I gamble, cheat, gloat My vices are no better for wearing a coat.  So, dismantle all the monuments  you've built for me. See how ea