He’s Commitment Phobic

Primavera, 24x24, oil on panel

Primavera, 24×24, oil on panel by Richard J Demato

He dug so perfectly well
and worked very hard,
but as soon as he came to the water of life,
he went from being so good
to being very bad.
He took to his heels as fast as he could,
and lost the nourishment that all
his work was supposed to bring.
Isn’t it unfortunate that a well-digger is dying of thirst
because of his fear of water?


Brief Analysis: When a man hops from woman to woman, he lives a very empty, unfulfilled life. “Digging through a well” is used as a metaphor for having sex in this short poem. It’d be silly, of course, or stupid, to think that is all a woman- a whole magnificent being- is good for. If you are lucky enough to get a woman who loves you and is willing to be and stay with you, it’d be unfortunate to not appreciate that, and recognize that with her by your side, there is nothing you can’t do.
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Too Rich to Give

Poverty in the Midst of Plenty (1939)

Poverty in the Midst of Plenty (1939) by Gerard Sekoto

A poor man wakes up feeling hungry and useless.
A rich man prefers to have his meat boneless.
The poor man eats out of the rich man’s bins, homeless.
The rich man blames him for it, but the poor man is faultless.

Poor man only wants some food; he’s harmless.
He has told rich man many times- it’s countless.
He needs rich man’s attention; he’s helpless,
but rich man doesn’t care, he’s loveless.

Does wealth make a person heartless?
Someone, tell me, ’cause I’m clueless.
Does it kill a person’s sense of fairness?
Does it make a human being think less?

The Wounded Healer

Her words are deep, and perhaps, far too deep, because they do not come from her heart. She writes and speaks with passion only because her words come from the pitch of her stomach. As these words travel up her torso, they avoid her heart like a plague.

Yemoja.png

“Yemoja” [Artist Unknown]

Her heart is severely wounded, so she strives to protect her words from blood stains. She chooses not to release the words that live in her heart because they are filled with pain.

She is hurt
and she is weak
and she is dying slowly,
but it’s not for her listeners who need healing to see…

Vagine-Her

BeFunky CollageIf he tells you your body is ruined
’cause it has been touched by another man,
ask him why he thinks so poorly of the male body [and his own self]
as destructive and ruinous.

 

Woman, One Word

No lips are lovely enough for my lips.
No words or verses are good enough
to make me feel like a woman.
No car or house is expensive enough
to fit my ego, and my dreams.
No food and promises are audible or
legible enough for my vagina and squirt.
No man is big enough for my arms;
no man is worthy enough of my love.
No hands are good enough for
my stunning breasts and thighs;
no amount of your money
is large enough for my hands.

I don’t need a man to be happy.
No man in the world.

I don’t need to be chained
by a man to be free.
No man in the world.

To be successful, I don’t need to
suck on smelly man-candy.
No man in the world.

No man is big enough for arms.
No man in the world.
No man in the world.

Unre-QUIT-ed II

Staying with someone who doesn’t love you because you love them.
Being okay with it because you think you have them, at least, but you don’t.

You have him or her but they’re not yours. You can touch them and pet them and feed them and kiss them but they’re not yours. All those things won’t make them yours. You know that quite well but you wish you didn’t. 

For some reason, for love reasons, holding on seems a lot easier than letting go. You know you’re treading on a futile, wrong path, but you’re not stopping. You’re lost. You have to stop and turn back. You can’t find the right path if you don’t stop.

It’s hard. It’s hard to quit this unrequited love…

Rain

Nobody noticed, when the oceans fed
water to the thirsty clouds.
We only know that when they were satisfied,
they gave water back to the oceans,
to our thirsty crops and soil,
to our bowls and buckets,
and to our playful children,
before our very eyes.

Our air was cleaner,
our love-making was sweeter,
and our sleep was deeper,
because the sky was given water.


 

A lot of people have pulled strings to take enslaved Nigerians and other Africans [it breaks my heart; it’s 2017 and this is still happening] in Libya back home. Not all of them have publicized the things they’ve done and the amounts they’ve given. Thank you very much. You’re beautiful people with good hearts. You’re Oceans.

I tried to write something about looking for greener grass in other regions/countries [like people have done for centuries irrespective of their race- your ancestors, my ancestors] and finding rusted chains instead, but I couldn’t. I slept off 5 minutes after because my heart was heavy.

I hope they’ll make good use of their freedom now that they have it [the ones that are free now, at least], get the psychological and financial help they need to bring their dreams/goals back to life, and rain for us. Most of them are in their youth, they are educated, and they have bright ideas; they’re all valuable human resources. The governments have a lot to do to ensure that they gain or regain their stability. If they take them home and withdraw without providing adequate assistance, there’ll be problems. [Some of them were infected with HIV.]