When the Sun Is up



It’s now break time
And it’s been a while
Working on a concrete recipe.
I fish out my gadget
To pen a verse
That had knocked
At the gate of my soul.
Hey! 
Get back to work!
This verse
I’ve been sheltering
Since daybreak
Won’t manifest yet.

Tomorrow morning
The foreman and his target
Awaits me
Like a circumcision
Not later than eight.
A battle with my Being
Who won’t easily give up
The fragrance of the night.
Today I’ll tether earlier
To the realm of slumber–
A promise
Unfulfilled yet.
It’s now past three–
A blend of fulfilment 
And regret.

And what’s the time?
It’s eight thirty.
Fuck it! 
Can we try our luck?
O no!
Mûrîithi won’t entertain.
Aah, today we can rest.

Today, 
Slumber grabbed me
Where I lay 
On this couch,
Placed me on her lap
With her cozy bosom
As my pillow
And shut me down.

Here, 
Where we cook concrete
I stagger
Like a man on tequila
When the sun is up.
My most beautiful conversations
Have been with the moon
And the stars.

How can I prop up
My stubborn eyelids
And stop them from collapsing?
I feel like I’m walking
On a clothesline.
I’m a security light
That wallows in drunkenness
When the sun is up.

Chaos, tantrums,
Unkindness, abuse,
Traumas, false alarms
And anger spasms
Color my being
When the sun 
Reigns the sky.

A night owl–
A lantern
That lights up the dark
Yet shut by the light–
Is what I’ve been.

© Sea-Crab Poetry.
(Voyager of Words)

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