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UNTITLED

we sit around
waiting,

for the right
time to decide
if we should let
our hearts decide
finally, what
our head warns
against.
we sit around
mooing,
grumbling under
our breaths
knowing the solution
to the questions we
so lazily repose,
rephrase,
but stubbornly
deny.
we sit around
on bums aching
asking why
our lives
aren't seasoned
by a God
we so often;
in hypocritical elegance, deny.
he beckons,
we run,
and  back,
we come crawling
on scalled knees.
we sit around
frozen,
by the melt down
of the very many
emotions,
we suppressed all
the while
saying,
"tomorrow, I will address this",
decades upon decades ago.
we sit around
with our necks
bent around, struggling
to catch a glimpse
of the other's worries,
trying so hard at
seeming uncaring
to the rumours
running around their
affairs.
we drop our's
and pick up their's
with utmost criticism
and lust to dominate
we sit around
in square-shaped
circles
of unequal ends,
killing precious time,
fixing each other
with disintegrating tools.
layers upon layers of
broken pieces
forced together,
in organized chaotic
indiscipline
we sit around
waiting for
a pre planned
miracle,
chosen with careful
and precise judgement.
waiting,
never receiving,
losing,
never obtaining
we sit around,
tonight,
looking at the constellation
mooing over
a thousand and three things
we would do better
if we were one of the shining things
high above
as we sit and shit
in each
other's affairs.
g.o.
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SEVEN MINUTES IN HEAVEN

seven minutes in heaven;
seven minutes counting
heart beats by the second.
six minutes in heaven;
all the while tapping feet
on shaky wooden floorboards
in nervous delight.

five minutes in heaven;
five minutes counting
down to reality:
a beastly, slimy one.
four minutes in heaven;
wondering if by chance
or luck or grace,
a glimpse of an angel
 would suffice.

three minutes in heaven,
and lo a ladybird atop
your nose tickles,
dances, wiggles, jiggles,
then away,  flies.
two minutes in heaven,
two minutes or the next,
daydreams finally might come
to be:
visions of sunny skies,
silly side aching laughs_
chocolatey gums,
all on display
for my ever aching eyes.

a minute left in heaven
the last, the longest,
the shortest it seems,
the last before you wake
and stare at
the computer screen
in a crowded
noisy bureau,
someplace.

you sigh.
"of course it was unreal."

Grace Oluchi Okogwu

 meme si mes yeuxs me pique, je vois