I’m staring at the coal black road

I’m staring at the coal black road
Watching the speeding cars and the tags they have
I can still make out the road’s roughness, the skin tone of a toad
Watching as the cars appear and disappear at that perfect curve

The wind blowing lightly as if scared to damage the delicate skins of men
Making the leaves on those trees sway up and down in a rhythm slow
The Blue in the sky fading with the darkening dusk, a few seconds to seven
The evening star starting to put up it’s daily show

People in a lot of haste and rush
Some seem to be filled with fuss
Some busy vending their goods for some cash
Their hopes held high that morning will come and night will pass

Once in a while passes some lovely lass
And my eyes admire her curves and style
But I don’t want love, causes insomnia and needless fuss
I recall this and so I stupidly smile

The huge black beast closing in swallowing everything with spun
The birds have siezed to hum their melodies and the crickets start to chirp
Lights start popping out one by one as the tungsten bulbs brightly burn
My long awaited friend comes from behindy back, gives my shoulder a light tap

©Liv in poetry

I lie in the cold

Bending my knees to my face

And my hands my head they hold

To keep some warmness inplace

Trying to find sleep

On the freezing floor

But the cold sinks deep

In my skin like its an open door

I watch the cars that sped past me

And the people inside them

Its imbalance that I see

Comfort a rare gem

I then hear someone scream

At the corner on my right

Yes it’s not a dream

The city wasn’t itself at night

Not safe for even those like me

Barely even covered with clothes

As long as none of us through darkness could see

We were prone to insecurity that each loathes

You could go to “bed” with a friend

But in the morning he is freezing cold

Gone with death though none he did offend

But it was common to watch death unfold

Surviving was what was same as gold

At least sleeping with rotten food in my stomach

Eating food spiced with the vitamin – mould

At sleep all dreams were of a popcorn park

But pain was true

And suffering was real

And suffering fastly grew

Skin both black pale and teal

Mixture of green and blue

Options were beg or steal

Or either death hung on you like linked with glue

But the beg option never guaranteed a meal

I watched my friends get lynched

For the second option careful they weren’t

I would feel as if my skin was being pricked and pinched

They burned because they had no parent – their mistakes apparent

If all failed we leaned on sniffing glue

Which made things act recurrent

And made our red pain seem blue

But only for a while

And the pain would be back

And I’d still sleep on the pavement tile

And my face with scars of black

And hunger as bitter as bile

Stomach screaming of lack

Trouble adding to my file

When the high priest held his trial

When the high priest held his trial
The fire outside blazed high
As it’s Sparks split and spinned spiral
It’s tongues yearning to lick the sky

And Peter would sit
Hands clasping his knees, his head on top
Slowly and sadly absorbing the heat
Wishing all this could stop

Then one would say
Weren’t with him
And he would lick the clay
Swearing his knowledge with him was dim

And he would change his place of sit
And move to another
And another would ask, his face lit
Aren’t you with the other

And he would say
I’ve never seen his face
Let alone being his follower like you say
And again he would change his place

Again for the third
Another would ask the same
And just like he heard
His mind with pain grew lame

For with the third
A cock would crow
And with a feeling of sad
And too with pain, the wind would blow

© copyright 2019



Once upon a rhyme
There were riots in the market
That was the time
I saw people fight with mangoes
Carrots grapes and onions
Those selling carrots
Saw the worst out of their companions
More victims of the riots
Were the ones trading cabbages and tomatoes
As they crushed them on each other’s heads
As others troded them beneath their toes
The baker’s breads
Shoved to the mouths of hungry rioters
And those whose tongues melted
When they saw that baked bread at the counter
People loitering, running around like crazy
The market place was now a perfect maze
Not then when you’d find traders acting busy
The fishmongers’ camp was set ablaze
Together with the catch of that day
Men mourning of their lost gain
Looters proud of the day’s game
And it became a tale to remain
To be narrated to the future lootes who dream the same
Just an imagination in their wicked minds
While the sons of the traders shall listen to the saddest story
Of how their fore fathers were stripped their glory
The myth of how poverty was born

Once upon a rhyme
There were riots inside the barrack walls
This was the time
Soldiers proved their dumbness to thier calls
Smiling while opening fire
Dancing to the bullet choir
Some bombed their tents
As some brought down the barbed fence
As they blazed down their tents
Came down their own defense

Once upon a crime
Riots rose inside the prison walls
Their regrets sour than lime
The warden heads seemed crimson balls
The sirens wailed without tire
As chaos stood up in full length
The world had never seen such ire
Nor it’s might neither it’s strength
As cell mates faced each another
With knives and broken chairs
None was the other’s brother
They pushed down the stairs
And so did the blood from them
All chaos, no one cares

Once upon a time
There were riots everywhere
None soul was safe, none a tribe
Once upon a rhyme
There were chaos everywhere
Over here and under there
Peace had faded past like time
Replaced by chaos and crime
Yes! Once upon a time
Men embraced darkness
And danced to the hype
Of the wails of hopelessness
Just once upon a Time
Time was replaced with crime

When shall the noises end?

When shall the noises end?
I heard him ask his guard
But I raised my ears with the sound to blend
I listened, but not just noise I heard
In the noise some sound was part

The voices grew loud while some drowned
Like cries of agony and wrath
In the voices, pain was crowned
Some cursed the bigger man’s birth
Wishing to crush his throat but can’t

The voices filled with bitterness
I could hear them grind their teeth with ire
Saying that now they glitter less
The coins which they pick in tire
While the taxes rise with great thrust, higher and higher

Some would say they crush rock
Only to receive cents for their output strength
Later to hear from the door a knock
The tax man standing I full length
Hungry hands open to collect

Saying “we need more for development”
But it’s development of bigger man’s pockets
The coins are put to buget but only ten percent is spent
To build the coal black roads and electric sockets
Which crack and burst after a year, scarred with oldness

And they ask for more to repair
Bigger man at his tallest, poor man at his lowest
That’s how the two compare
When the other is dying of hunger, the other is having his loveliest
The voices said it best

And the bigger man was itching, them, to quiet
Instead, they marched and yelled louder
And bigger man’s office is no longer quiet
The voices which were quiet, now ringed like fed with protesting powder
As they marched the streets, tired of being troded on in silence.



Men with cold cold souls
That clot like clay
Who give you poison
With a simple reason

Wealth, men who tell you
That life is dust
So dip your self in water
And I promise to collect you in the gutter

Men who tell you to kill your sire
And collect inheritance treasures
In their game of wealth
Then kindly sell you to death

Men who smoother
Your chance to greatness
And drown your hope
Roll it down a slope

Men with wild wild minds
Men who crave your end
Men who dream you to blend
So to drink your blood

Men who wouldn’t regret
To grind you like sand
And when they come tommorw
They want your vote to borrow

To improve their game
And jump to the next level
Of sucking strength from multitudes
Men with cold cold attitudes

Ever thirsty men
Thirsty of taking life
For their own sake
And when you approach a smile they fake

Men whose worst nightmares
Are your success
Men with old old hats
Of hatred like one of cats and rats

Who blame their failure
On your filthy existence
Who are locked to greed with bolts and nuts
Men with cold cold hearts

©copyright 2019



I now know why
Why people cry
Cry when others die
The spirit explodes
Leaving some smoke
That makes us chock
Then leaves us broke
Broke of happiness
But rich , rich in sadness
Then lets us burn
With a flame of grief
From its taking off explosion thats brief
Which makes us turn
To the bang produced,a bang of memories
And its replaying echo induced,in our brains
And wets our minds like flood rains
Which erode joy and leave greate gullies of pain
Gullies empty, but filled with loss
Still with wonder if silence feels remorse
I think I know why
Coldness can’t feel remorse or pain
When it conquers a soul..
Its because coldness is cold
And pain is heat
Which can’t be mixed in the same bowl
Again its old
Old with expirience
And its buttock itch to sit
And watch souls feeling warm
An ever hungry worm
I now think I know
Why we cry
When people die
Its because joy becomes shy
To shine in of man an eye
And hides its face
As the feeling of sad takes its place
Keeping hearts locked in its maze
Filled with dark
And pits with murk
Mud of soil and tears
Joy the only light leading out
And fading of the memories only hope
Ability of letting go a wavy doubt
Whether you can jump of loss the rope
I now think I know why
Men cry when people die
Its because death is smoke
That stings the eyes.

©copyright 2019