I’m sure growing up for those who love and studied art,
Have drawn objects which were termed Still life. Yea?
And even if it was alive she or he must be still in order to achieve the task at hand.
This crosses the boundaries to photography as well,
A frozen action caught in time when the subject was objectively still.
And this part of life capturing events,
Of people, places and things
To reflect on later in time is wonderful.
Yet time shifts with life in hand,
Even some objects are subjected to achieve this effect,
While others aren’t.
Stillness is essential as much as movement is,
Let’s be grateful to God for life still.
R A P
They said let by-gones be
Just like that and it’s history
But will my story tell you of I’wisha
Lounging in bars pouring rounds of I’coulda
Throwing back shots loads of I’woulda?
Stagnated in a state of drunken debate
And wallowing with the infamous I’shoulda.
All the while sand keeps slippin through my fingers.
Reason whispers, “I thought better of you though,
Time’s a precious commodity boy,
Way too expensive to waste or lose.
How much yours going for, these days?”
R A P
I look out and observe you watch in
Was your view of me, as I caught you looking?
Tell me who are you?
An illusion or a reflection of me?
Here at my mirroring fool
I ponder, I figit,
And wonder if this could be.
Are you me or am I you?
Or is this Fear groomed in curiosity?
One blink of a wink later
This person stays unphased
Here, tightened eyes shut
Open wide to review but
Your intense gaze persist to peer me through
This dazed sight as I stare intently back at you
What’s undeniable I think is knowing sometimes who you are
So I do realise this is just my mind at times playing tricks on me,
R A P
We often recognise definitive signs
When others recall daring senarios
Which opened reality’s door, swiftly
With opportunities reached doing so
Why obstruct reasoning’s deficiency soared
Wastefulness!! Our resources dewindled sadly
Where otherwise readily decisive,
R A P
With contact he became what he constantly did
An inward contention with conscience
during this condition.
Was he coerced by outward forces to collaborate and leave his chartered course breaking his commitment?
Lacking control he continued yet desired a second chance.
But the conclusion is this, it always begins with a choice and one not
commonly separated from its consequence.
No longer coarse after chastening, he has come to learn constraint,
And he was me.
R A P
Of course many of us encounter serveral layers of adversity
Sum wish to minus them all away.
Yet it isn’t the number of failures equating pain
Which count in the end
But the total of faith, determination, patience plus a willingness to change
Adds up who we are after the math.
R A P
Kettle fills her tank up at the tap station as is her custom,
Sometimes to the brim and other times half or there about.
She has an operatic performance tonight and during the am as per usual.
Bubbles in her stomach, a little nervousness isn’t bad she reassures herself.
As she performs better under pressure in all circumstances.
Warms up and off she goes towards full steam.
This time around, an awareness of timing has dropped like an octave inside, that valuable last inhale before her crescendo.
Wait for it……that second or two of pure, silent anticipation.
R A P
“I brought flowers for you!”
To say the thing that words should do.
Why is it so hard to give them birth,
Sentiments rolling off tongue sweet like myth?
How can 3 little words carry so much weight?
I believe it’s by them we seal our fate.
So I’ll say it with flowers as the syllables wont come out
Just don’t understand what the fuss is all about.
“How long we’re together still you
lack to know how I feel?”
“But I do, it’s with my actions and that’s the real deal!”
Better yet next time a plant is what I’ll get
Watch it grow with us being the muse we never forget.
R A P
Childhood memories…..takes me back to a place
Within four walls
Huff!! I meant wooden sidings.
See where I grew up,
There were plenty more ‘board houses’ than concrete then.
Some said they wete cooler specially cause the pitched roofs,
Trapped the hot air.
I remembered it did ‘fuh real!’
Above wooden floors which gave ‘back chat’ from all the heavy walking,
Or maybe it was because as children we use to drag the chairs and exfoliated its varnished skin.
Caribbean life brought the bright roasting sun to toast our flesh, some ‘half baked’ others well done.
He soon realised he had rivals with all vibrants coats
These happy ‘Chattel houses’ would wear
Some being purest sticking with their favorite hue
While others weren’t partial at all
Spinning round in a colour wheel.
Looks like they’re a dwindling lot but if you have the pleasure of seeing one
You wood understand what I mean
Just gotta love a ‘board house’.
R A P
Please priorities pursue!
I pitch my pointer, my preferred plea
Posed upon and purposely pure.
Proposing penance on persons who plunder
And place power before people.
It pertains plainly to the poor exploited
By a plushed pack preoccupied with polluting pride,
Protraying publicly a pretended pledge
Is it premature to perceive a path of perpectuate peservation?
It puzzles me, the piles of pursuing probes,
Painfully prying for a piece of personal property.
A prayer to pool participation
And prepare the population for pellucid policies
Pause, push panic aside, have a peaceful poise
While pulling practicality and prolonged
privileges into perspective.
Permission to preach,
“No more palmed mouths, paled face we pant
Planked, politely we’d poled, then were patiently played,
Pawned by perted phrases,
Pinced and poked, padlocked by pressure,
Potholes puncture tires, police on pavement passes to see plight,
In need of repair.
Now partially paralysed and pleas for a paramedic
Pores pour perspiration, pulses partly present
These particular pains are party pangs
Perhaps my patchy points prick your ears.
R A P