INK_Volve

As darkness masks the sky
And trees flutter in rhythm of the wind.

As the bird nest and the cricket chirp
And the bizi-ness of the day slowly comes to an end.
I make love to the memories of yester-years

The freedom of my youth
The innocence of childhood
The moonlight tales by mother and the snacks she shared when she told them.

Ohh! the good old days they were
And now i am stricken with age
Grey coloured hair
Boyhood
Manhood
Ancestorhood

Spoken word 🧡 🔜

Your thoughts

-Boy soldier-
I became a man at the age of six
All thanks to you
You keep talking about what's wrong
But never talk about what's right
Put others first you say
But can i be selfish for a day
Can i be selfish and love my self selflessly
Even for just a minutes, a day, a week or two, think about no one but me.
You crowd me with a list of do and don't.
Can't i be free to soar the sky of my imagination
Without an anchor of responsibilities
Without a scroll expectations staring me in the face
No!

No!!
I too am human
Maybe too human for my own good
Wear rags clothe others
Take a bite feed others
I too am human
Maybe too human for my own good
I go to war all day and battle demons all night.
The ghost of the souls i have taken take sleep away
I can't sleep: their voices ever present in my ears

"What ever you do you do for the greater good, this people will not listen so we have to make them listen"
By killing each other?
"Boy!, i took you in, fed you, i made a man''
You took a child from its mother and turned it into a monster
Your conscience is dead, so is my dream of ever being a normal child.

INK_Volve

"Born different"
Open for criticism

INK_Volve

Why do you write ?
I write because the world is blind to its faults.
I write because the society has pushed me to the wall.
I write because the ink is my sword and shield against turmoils of life's ever raging war
So i write and read and rewrite and reread what has been written.
This is a story you are not familiar with
A story of a mystical beast that feasts on the flesh of the poor and drink of their sweat and toiling
The beast that lurks the earth in search of prey to meal on.
At the slightest opportunity it plants its powerful jaws on the neck of a sheep.
Stripping its skin bare of wool and
Leaving its young ones homeless, malnutritioned and even hopeless
There comes the shepherd
With the swing of the rod chases the beast away
The beast will not give up so easily its prized prey.
I write because thats the only way i can pierce its heart
Gouge its eyes, break its wings,
I write to break the beasts talisman over the flock
I write because words come alive in the life of those who not only read but believe
Believe that the shepherd is the keeper of the sheep
Believe that the shepherd is the slayer of the beast

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INK_Volve
I choose to die so that i can live again
Like christ i died for all your act and scenes
All your lines
By every stanza of good or evil
Am not the judge
Mine is to die that we might live
A bloody inked mesaiah
Willingly
I buried my head in the pages
Every word felt
Every moment relived while i read
some times three days isn't enough
So i stayed longer
The keys to salvation is not easy to find
I search here and there
Looking for clues i search
Day and night i spend
Until judgment's book is complete
Until i find the answers
i stay buried in these bloody books

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