The Reflections series contains poems written on topics selected by friends and family.
The catch is, the dynamic of my relationship with whoever chose the poem is reflected by it.
Hope you’re blessed.
Shalom
A piece I wrote ever so long ago and only just realised isn’t here on the site.
Hope you enjoy it!
Let’s say we’re wrong,
Us Christians and what we sing in our songs
let’s say the disciples of Jesus
went all out to fool us
and the stories of the bible
were bedtime stories for the people
say it was all some sort of fable
a tale from a land distant and impalpable Continue reading What if?
As sun stood still till
war was won, May night not end
till my rest is done!
Much like Troy
His fall began with a woman wronged
And Peter took a stand like the hook of a romantic song,
Not many would risk losing their home
To defend a woman’s honour
In the moments before his lips ever lied
before his tongue ever tried, twisting truth
before his teeth tore through, forbidden fruit,
before Adam realised, he’d bitten of much more than he could chew
having ignored God’s advice and taking of the tree of knowledge of Good and evil
You are both rising peaks of the letter, U is perfect for you are ever rising, ever growing, ever new…
I’ve started far too many a poem this way,
where I’d say;
Most people think I’m actually more white than red, gold, and green
It surprises many to hear me speak in Twi
yet I’m far too black for the union Jack
And I mean absolutely nothing Racist by that,
but that I stand out in the countryside,
and have granny’s clutch purses, tighter than their gym trips would provide,
Is a fact.
in saying these things
it’s evident my identity can no longer be confined to my skin Keep Reading!
Watch me Cry,
like tears are but raindrops
from the clouds in the sky
of my mind.
Saturated over time, seeking desperately to find
a reason why, they should not fly,
they do not fall, they just sky dive
no longer held by the need to lie,
that I’m alright Keep Reading!
The true story of Benjamin Kyle, a man with no memory of his past, inspired this reflection.
May he soon find someone who knows what his real name is.
Benjamin Kyle
No one came to pick Benjamin Kyle from the Hospital.
There had been no one to notify
No next of Kin or in case of emergency contact,
The truth is, there were no facts.
Now if ur found, naked and unconscious, behind a bin,
And your very name is a tribute to the fact that bin had been behind a burger king
Then I guess you can’t be blamed for having never been
too surprised by that.
There were a few things in fact, tht Benjamin knew for sure
one of which was that he barely remembered anything at all
and what’s more
is after countless interviews and tv shows
no one in america still seems to know
Who Benjamin Kyle really is.
Now When you’ve not even the memories
of who you are,
to keep you company,
and you’ve literally no recollection of who the man posing as your reflection truly is
then you can truly say, you’re truly lonely
even in the midst of many.
and aside all this, and not having any of the required papers
to work, or rent or have a place to live,
Benjamin consciously avoids thinking of one thing
of how incredible a person he must have been
to have no one from his old life looking for him
to have his face all over the country
This 65 year old definition of lonely
and have no one in the world say, I know that guy
I imagine He doesn’t go there cos he rediscovered and remembers what it is like to cry
and have no one by your side
and one thing that really hit me about Benjamin’s story
despite having now received alot of genrerous Acts of charity
I think Benjamin still felt incredibly alone
Because when asked “Benjamin so what are your long term goals?”
He simply said “TO grow old and die”
and he laughed when he did so i know he must have said that with a smile
but i’ve seen enough people cry
to know what pain sounds like when it wears a disguise
and Pain stood out in what he said so uncomfortably
like a black member of the BNP
You see, crowded is the worst form of lonely a man should ever be.
Alternatively
We washed on the weekends
so Saturday mornings were marked out in basins
and bags of smelly clothes and school uniforms
Derrick, Stephen, James, myself and John
would move from house to house
and over conversation and washing lines and grass
we’d have our clothes ready for the week and our uniforms ready for class
It was a concept my agricultural science teacher taught me
about how farmers in the village would co-operatively till their land
Because though each farmer had an allocation they could refer to as “my land”
Apple had yet to teach us greed, and they all agreed that no man is an “i land”
so they’d all but hold hands
moving from farm to farm getting done more than each could ever have on their own.
Even Jesus didn’t send his disciples out on their own.
two walked into every town
and two walked out.
Isaac Newton said He could only see further by standing on the shoulders of giants
And you are standing and sitting next to giants
and they are standing and sitting next to you
There are some things only you can do
but there are other times when the best thing you can do
is help someone else do something incredible.
I hope we can use the rest of our lives to create a list of more and more people who
will come forward if any of us are ever to
wake up naked and unconscious behind a bin
then regardless of where that bin has been
our name will ring
on the lips of those to whom we’ve been friends, and mentors and acquaintances
unlike Benjamin’s make a dent in someone’s life
so they’ll always notice
and they’ll never forget your name
cos they’ll always have to say
you did this.
I watch disaster approach
like a tidal wave
I’ve no hope, of escape
And when death is as reassuring as Superman’s cape
I simply await
My hooded scythe bearing saviour
When fear’s so close I begin to mistake it for a friend
closer indeed than most have ever been
fear could have been a lover
It’s then no wonder
I’m so shell shocked stupid
Stuck still shot by Cupid
I can’t move
My feet won’t leave fear’s side
on a double date with Mr and Mrs Hope and Help Lessness
on the day I died
or rather on the day I tried
to fail at holding myself responsible for me
I’d sooner jump infront of a bullet addressed to another
but I simply watched as the blade went for my jugular
I waited, slowed my heart beat right down
like I wanted it to last
like I’d so much to review from my past
that though my life flashed
at the speed of thought
I thought I ought to have a bit more time
I felt the steel reach it’s destination, cold like a kiss from a lover just getting insde from the winter
Contrasting the hate, in the heat of the hand that had now acquired firm hold of my shoulder
The first time in my life I actually couldn’t be bothered
would be the very last, a red letter day indeed inked in my blood
My very life on the line
after days of feeling like I’d been left out to dry
With no pegs or friends holding me down as the winds of strife blew all manner of life out of me
I’ve finally let go
And as I fall to the ground I know
My Killer’s done me a favour
as I’d been beating myself over not being man enough to do this myself
He’d done it for me
spared me the shame of having to ask
my days were indeed numbered, my last approaches dusk
And as the darkness sweeps softly
carrying me away
Reminiscent of the way
my dad would every day
each night when I was younger
From the back seat of his car to the welcoming warmth of my bed
As time and death made me dead
I smiled
Then someone flicked the switch
and before me sat a ghost , a man and a God
staring,
right through me
and He wasn’t smiling
In His eyes…
….Fury
She stains my thoughts like baby artists do a canvas,
like their baby bottoms stain pampers,
it’s everywhere and it’s effortless!
seemingly circular in nature they become vicious, cycles of beauty
thoughts of her, they pursue me,
like a debt collection company.
yet I find spontaneity allows more truth conveyed instead,
So smiles stain my face as I reminisce lying in bed
as I remembered,
The feeling of Her hand held in mine like a handheld divine piece of the galaxy.
I phone her on her iPhone hear the familiar tone of the numbers as I dial them from memory.
Hello,
Her voice activates my recognition of the intensity of her beauty.
we might not always have the greatest conversations,
but the deepest revelations reside within the silence between breaths
and I am always left, Breathless.
Each question I pose, she with prose, provides a good answer for like Siri
but unlike the same she remains fascinating for much more than just a couple of weeks.
By the way the iPhone is weak
a galaxy note 3 is so much better
And she’s like an exclusive version of the just previously mentioned, with the endorsement of a Designer, No Dolce Just Jehovah,
Just like the moon she stains my dark nights with the bright lights of her smile’s presentation,
Just like the moon she reminds my night of the glory of the sun,
with her it’s the glory of the Son,
Jesus, the pure and holy one.
and Sometimes it feels like I got plagiarized,
cos God copied her right out of my dreams and pasted her into my past, present and future,
yet when I check the bibliography I see that of those dreams God was the Author!
So shall I love the gift more than the giver?
My strength alone cannot sustain the weight of the love that she deserves,
I alone, not capable of waiting on the table where she sits waiting to be served,
I’m shaking at the knees, at the responsibility
and it scares me,
I mean
She is Amazing
turning the very dictionary into a maze when
she redefines in her being
everything that may please men.
I mean
she’s an angel and I’m just me.
Then there’s
Sin who waits creeping at my door,
Trying to turn unholy thoughts into more,
trying to turn a blessing into a burden,
trying to get me feeling trapped,
like I’m in prison and the devil is the warden.
trying to use the flesh to distract from intimacy, ministry, and education.
She’s number one,
but she has gotta come second
she is a gift
so I’ll ask her Maker what He wants in return
And that’s my devotion.
Because,
if I receive His love then I can love better,
then I won’t just be a better lover,
then I can be better Peter.
I see all that she is and more,
cos I’m not looking at her,
cos my eyes are closed in prayer,
Cos I’m chatting to her Father.
You see I want to do this right wasting no time, not even a second,
so she’ll always be number one but she will always come second to God.
The Ordinary Amazing 