Ogunsanya Enitan Olalekan writes

YESTERDAY IS HISTORY

Fed daily with frozen foods of torment

prepared in the kitchen of distress
cooked with gas of sorrows
to fill us to brim.

Yesterday;
we drank wine from the gourd,
gourd fabricated with lies
lies that ruined us of our day
day we cry of yesterday.

Tears of the pregnant cloud seize
to hearken to the voice of the dry land
on the altar of thirst
pleading of the yester-days wrong.

Yesterday;
we slept on foams of hope
hoping to see flames of hope
spring from the burning fire
to awaken us cos
Yesterday Is History.

 

Kathryn Brimblecombe-Fox paints

Coded Landscape  

Gouache on paper http://kathrynbrimblecombeart.blogspot.com.au/2015/06/coded-landscape-and-black-soil-plain.html 

Laurie Kuntz writes

Orange and red treetops 

the edge of winter 

seeping through.

 

Olajide Vincent Ajise writes

I'M SORRY

Like stars in outer space

That caress twinkling nature
& soothe darkened hallows,
Let me cuddle the simplicity of your passion.

Like the biblical samaritan
Who shared his love balm
With a plagued anonymous,
Let me gladden your innocence with care

Like a bottle which confines aqua
Preventing its spree of beut
Unto ungodly Niles,
Let me just have you as thoughts in my head.

I know I have defiled our creed,
Raping the nudity of patience.
I know I am an embodiment of pride,
Lampooning your love on the altar of indifference.

Please give me this chance to thread this tear
For I may seem a mature juvenile
But I am still an err filled human





 
The Good Samaritan, after Delacroix - Vincent van Gogh

Ra Sh writes

Hopscotch with calculi in the kidney

I play hopscotch with her
With three rubies.
Two for her nipples.
One for her sweet spot.

Oh my sweet salty kidney
She presses her nose to my navel.
Three rivers spout inside with a rumble.

Later I find her weaving
The rubies to a skirt.
With a whirl the hem rises like a kite
And lunar and solar eclipses occur
Kaleidoscopically.

When I pry open her oyster
And seek out her nub
It shines forth like a ruby red kidney stone.

There is another rumble
And a gush 
Like pomegranate seeds.

I start playing hopscotch and
She starts singing as she weaves them
Into a starless sky.of red jewels
Pour past my mouth tongue and face
Like pomegranate seeds.

I start playing hopscotch and
She starts singing as she weaves them
In to a starless sky.

Laurie Kuntz writes

Ailing mother 
go where the hibiscus blooms 

an eternal pink

 

Hilary D Zamora writes and draws

"The notion that addiction is this perilous monster inside one’s mind is a very real truth. It changes and confuses you, only to direct you down an abrupt and steep descent. You are at the monster’s mercy. You’ll merge with it, offering up your life, while it eats you away softly, slowly, diligently, and painfully while you are superficially distracted by it. The monster is your lover, your one true friend, your deceptive soul mate. It’s the silhouette lurking in the corners of your psyche and thought. You willingly give everything for it, because your passion for escape is the one thing that is closest to your darkened heart. In essence you’re left there, revealing your sinister core. "~Hilary D Zamora