Letter to Wifee

Dear Baby,
Must I always complain
That u have placed in front of me a mountain??
No my dear, such thoughts, I will not entertain…
With hope, I will sustain the fountain of love
In order not to stain my fame.
Before the sun sets, I will cook for u,
the plantain I bought from Spain ..
Don’t complain if its tears-tained.
It is my protestation to all the pain…

Fear

Fear is nothing. It has no life, no substance,
no locus and no bearing. Fear is dead, It is death.
Fear is the insignificance of zero,
the dulled edge of farmer's cutlass
the fruitlessness of a barren land
the chains of a slave, the mentally enslaved
Fear is air, fear is vaccuum
It only finds shelter in the eyes that gives it vision,
the ear that grants it audience,
the skin upon which its feelings explode
the mind by whose fertility thoughts are born
the mouth by whose words darkness is formed
the hand through which calabashes slip and fall
Let the giver of the vision desist
Tell the ear of the audience to resist
Plead the mind to persist
Let the skin refuse to cower
And Prod the mouth to chant with power

My Dream

This is the day of which i dreamt
Under the shadow of my one-tenth rented tent
Your lips i will kiss
Till i faint in sleep