Moods Of P

A walk through my words


January 2012


We stand on hills proclaiming our doctrines are pure and full of virtue while we lust after and seduce the sons and daughters of Man when we have our back to the world.

Image by Just2Shutter

We castigate the sons & daughters of Man who are caught by the Public Eye with their pants down soon after we’ve coaxed them to unbutton, just this once, for us.

We scold & chastise the sons and daughters of Man who deign to be true to themselves, rightly or wrongly declaring that they are & with a constancy that makes us ill to our stomachs they communicate and for that we serve punishment.

We taunt the sons and daughters of Man who, when placed before the Public Eye, confess the sins we nurtured in them & commit with our minds if not our bodies with careful planning and no regard for the vast differences between our words and our actions.

We raise our noses at the daughters of Man who walk with swollen bellies as a testament to a love they perceived was shared as the undulated their hips in tandem to the thrusts from the hips of a son of Man and sniff as though our hearts were never hollow from rejection of a son of Man and though our wombs were bare, our greatest gift we could also no longer share.

We glare at the daughters of Man as they parade lithe figures and breasts that are full, pert, aching to be touched. We accuse them of loose morals forgetting when we also allowed a son of Man to taste and see the goodness of our flat bellies and firm thighs.

Image by Ambro

We scorn the full-figured grown daughters of Man who take pride in having no more flat bellies and pert breasts but full, soft curves that remind the grown sons of Man of the fullness promised at Harvest and the sweetness of mangoes picked at just the right time as if we no longer feel the desire in our loins to become one in a dance for two that brings us back to the heavens, even if for a moment or gives us reminders of the pleasures skin offer when met with skin.

We praise the sons of Man for acts of barbary and unculturedness as we laud yet another seed carelessly sown on fertile ground sprouting wild oats whose days we’ll lament because the sons of Man only sought pregnant bellies and ignored the responsibility of nurturing their seed into sons of Man worthy of their legacy.

We smile & murmur as the sons of Man gawk at the lithe figures and reach for the pert breasts forgetting the daughters of Man are the mothers of Man who require the protection & respect of the sons of Man.

We congratulate the swollen bellies and feet on the sons of Man who plunder & rape the work of the sons and daughters of man, exploiting their fellow kin for the sake of an extra car, house or wife.

We bemoan the state of affairs of the land and blame the sons & daughters of Man for their lack of foresight & their empty visions yet our hands remain folded behind our heads & our minds calculate how to gain where we have yet to sow.

If we are not an emblem of hypocrisy, then we have no cause to complain & the world surely is as right as rain on the barren savannah just after the hot, dry season. 13/11/2011

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Fear of Myself

The only voice I’ve ever been afraid of is my own. The only person I’ve ever truly been afraid of is me.

Image by Idea go

As a new picture of who I am is formed in my mind and I realize my potential is nowhere near maximization I find myself afraid of what I could create.

The irony lies in itself that the only person I’ve ever competed with is me.

Image by Salvatore Vuono

The only being that I have ever perceived as truly being, is me. And yet the power that I could unleash, I am afraid.

Of the happiness I could create, I stand, afraid.

Of the influence I could yield over others I am eternally afraid.

Of the power, vision and foresight I can inspire I cower, from myself, afraid.

I am afraid to be myself and communicate who I am lest it become a crime again to be wholly awesomely me,

And yet I know there is no need to be afraid. 13/11/2011

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Lost in My Own Dream

I feel so lost right now. Everything threatens to spiral out of control except for my composure. Debts to pay, obligations to meet. Targets to force. Did I really think I could do it all? The rest of the world moves on smilingly and asks, “How are you?” I reply in panic but the world has already moved on and hasn’t heard my answer. Was I really so out of touch with reality when I was planning that I am stuck trying to pay people back? Didn’t I refuse to get into debt after I paid back all the other ones? Why is it that when I insist on it not happening again it has happened again?

Image by Simon Howden

Is my voice not loud and clear enough to be heard or will I forever be the silent partner whose input is only heard when there’s money to be spent? The idea is I have control but when action comes about my bank account is empty and I am part of the blamed party when those funds are needed.

I’m sitting with questions, wondering where my backbone will snap into place and I’ll take the reins and pull everything out of the mire.

I am just so tired of being the voice unheard. How can I be lost in my own dream?

Why I Took a Chance on You

Life is going on but another part of me is still where the rest of me wishes we were.

So sad, that a potential star exploded before it was discovered.

Image by xedos4

Well, not really, it’s fun to be sentimental,

it’s also detrimental


it doesn’t always hurt to try

even if the outcome leaves you dry,

without a desire to go on.

Anyway, let me not ramble,

 it’s just a preamble

 of what is to come

What This Girl Wants

I want a man:

 who loves me as I am,

Who gives his all where I am concerned.

 who recognizes that I am different from all the others he’s dates, wanted to date, slept with and wanted to sleep with, his momma, his grandma, his cousins,  his ex(es).

Image by jscreationzs

who strives to give what I deserve everyday & though he may never give me thousands of diamonds, insists on finding one that sparkles his love for me and buys it.

Image by freedigitalphotos

This girl wants a man who recognizes a woman in me that’ll love him fiercely but give him room to be himself. Oh Lord, a man, who will understand that each meal cooked & each caress is part of my love for him, who will understand that sometimes I need to be held & even if it’s funny or he’s in a hurry, he will wrap his arms around me.

A man

who hates to see me cry especially when it’s something he’s done;

that’ll crack jokes to make me laugh when I look foul ‘n’ angry.

I want a man who will marry me & kiss me in the morning when I awake & kiss me before we go to bed at night. Every night, even after a bitter unfinished argument.

Image by nuttaki

A man:

Who can apologize & accept apologies;

Who cooks me breakfast even when I’m not sick;

Who sees when I’m too tired to cook a meal & takes it on himself to make something or go out & buy it (or take me out for dinner).

Who will accept my kisses regardless of place or time.

who insists weekends are ours, even if we have to make a weekend during a week.

who inspires me to be generous, giving and realistic.

who makes sure he tells me he loves me at least once a day (even if he doesn’t say the words).

who will cry in front of me and lets me dry his tears. Who accepts my hugs when it’s all I’ve got to give.

I want a man:

who wakes up in the middle of the night to pull me closer if I’m too far.

who continues to speak to me until he understands what I really mean.

who is willing to learn if he doesn’t know.

willing to be taught & to teach.

who no matter how unsightly I may seem to others sees the beauty that makes me, me,

who respects my mind & thoughts I may not be knowledgeable or intelligent consults me on those things which matter & some that don’t.

who though I may be older or younger respects my opinion & experiences,

who looks forward to me bearing his child & can accept that if it doesn’t happen he still has me to love & be loved by.

who’d give me the shirt off his back if I sneezed.

whose affections are real and unhidden yet not overwhelming.

Ah…to have such a man, I am blessed and for the many times I thought I had him; I am richer for the experience. He is not perfect & yet he builds me up from strength to strength with what I have that is God-given. Opening my eyes to the wonderful creature called woman that I am. Whether our time together is one month, or a few, one year or a few I have from this union myself & the knowledge of what it feels like to be truly loved, for me, as me.

It’s worth writing & remembering. If you have it, cherish it. If you search for it, enjoy it as it comes as it may not all arrive on white horse nor with the strength to sweep you off your feet. Love beloveds & be loved.


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Pieces of Sorrow

Literary Brilliance comes but once, but twice but thrice.  It comes in

Picture by digitalart

suffering, pain, joy, love, though it seems to take on all forms. Poetry, song, story, tale, proverb, it comes but only once, twice, yet thrice. Will you in your joy find a moment to take to your paper your thoughts f which you have felt, you see and you feel. Do not claim to have today what you do not have and will not have tomorrow. One needs to feel the love or hate of those in order to write. In despair he casts his net and yet not one fish caught as day breaks and another day comes with its rays of light only to go again and be replaced by my friend the night who comforts all sorrows with a hand of cut glass. He pats my shoulder with the gentleness of a day’s breeze. When the sorrow has gone laughter takes its place only to have darkness laugh and slap my shoulder with mirth only to bring back the sorrow abandoned the dark moment before. To save my soul from everlasting wounds I am saved by the light of our day in which healing is introduced, but when will the pain stop for the healing takes time and bruising occurs, will this heart ache until its

Image by renjith krishnan

wounds separate it from its being and discard it only to take it up and mend it piece by piece just as the last piece is delicately patched onto the rest a dark hand slaps back again taking more pieces out than are returned.

His Eyes

In his eyes, I see mockery,

In his eyes I see hope,

In his eyes, I see death.

In my mind, I speak mockery.

In my heart is hope.

Image by photostock

On my tongue is death.

On his tongue is honey,

In his heart is faith,

On his mind is truth.

In my eyes, he sees money.

In my eyes, he sees faith.

In my eyes, he sees truth.

God(s) above, entrust his heart in my hands.

While I feel unworthy, I know it was in your plans.

God above grant him peace, each and every time he rests with me.

In his heart is the home I’ve always sought.

His very happiness is my second thought.

His body is the temple in which I worship the Almighty.

His soul is where I reside nightly.

God(s) above, bless me that I may be able to fulfil my purpose.

While I may falter, it will always be my focus.

God above, grant us a blessing time will never lessen.

In my eyes, he sees the future.

In my eyes, he sees the humour.

In my eyes, he sees me.

On his mind is the future

In his heart is the humour

On his tongue is me.

On my tongue is soothe

In my heart is healing

On my mind is us

In his eyes, I see truth

In his eyes, I see healing

In his eyes, I see us


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When I looked up I saw a boy with the most beautiful brown eyes. Oh his eyes were the colour of dark amber on fire, brown with gold flecks. I asked him what his name was and he told me he was hunger. I knew he lied not. Not to me. Not then. And so I learnt what hunger was and I embraced hunger, learning from, rejecting & accepting hunger.

Image by graur codrin

For never before had I know how privileged I was & how much more there was yet for me to learn. Today I yearn for hunger that is real & reminds me of how lucky I am to be alive & in the back of my mind I know I still have hunger with me or I would not know how many times death has crossed my path & I would not be grateful for the chance to act out my gratitude in small actions.

Image by David Castillo Dominici

I’m very far from the road of wanton disregard for the gift I’ve got and still I have a long way to go before I get to that place I dream of where I do not need to know & yet know…the secrets of the universe lie open to all who would seek them. They lie in plain view & yet the absorption we have with being what we already are keeps us from seeing. Keeps us from becoming what we admire & find amazingly impossible.

Image by Danilo Rizzuti

The magic lies within & when you know it you will try but because your faith is week because you are weak, you will not see it nor become it.

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If eyes were hands, or could convey touch then we would all see his lust.

As she kneels before him with the dish,

her eyes hover at the bulge growing which he hides with a twitch.

I’ve seen those eyes before, and experienced nights of pleasure from the body that eyes her form.

My heart is torn, for his eyes seem to scorn

 us the women who have sworn

 our lives to be with him & yet he leers in sin for my 3rd born.

I cannot bear it he must leave.

Image by Stuart Miles

For if he doesn’t, there will be blood on his sleeve.

I don’t care that he’s related

for his lusty thoughts are ill-fated.

They think I’m insane but I know his kind

They try to hide it in vain

until they in lust bind

one innocent soul into eternal pain

Trust has flown out the door

 to think I’d been fooled before.

I can see him whisper his lewd suggestions

I know she’s still fighting against his ministrations.

I saw the tears in her eyes as her father scolded her “lies”

But I’ve been there before & he will harm my daughter no more.

I was once there but I had no bravery to save my skin,

I know the kind of pain she’s in.

I won’t let my daughter pay for someone else’s sick sin.

Even if he doesn’t rot in jail

they’ll all know if you touch her

 there’ll be hell to pay & to my justice the law will pale,

no one touches my daughter.


this one feels incomplete what do you think?

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