Farting on a Sunday is somehow unsociable
Life is like one long funeral message...

sabbatical nagging at my brain
nine to five burns up space, cauterizing,numbs...

I am, out here on my own.
Flat lining...

The book of life is perennial as the stars.
Patterns, haunting our every move...

Wrapped up in a white skin!
I am, we are African...

Flying through my wall
Jamming up my personal space...

I got me a monkey on my back
related to my knife and fork...

Earth bound, tied to who I am!
No brush to canvas to releases the emotions...

I admit, I am deep!
The bubble gum and popcorn brigade...

Can you foretell tomorrow?
The past lives in my poems...

I was born this way!
I know wrong from right...

Don’t dismantle my dream world,
The theatre of the mind is very important...