At the Back of my Head

Croxt:

I got pain at the back of my backbones and I choose to keep it at the back of my head. I'm covered by a (bracket) of limits I've put on myself and the midnight blanket slips keep disturbing my sleep. So I slip into my sandals and pray that the mist this night tonight is a struggle I can handle. Stress is a lurking shadow I can't hide under so I'm seeking a rock for my shelter. These thoughts run helter-skelter and the back of my mind believes I can catch them if I run a bit faster. So I've fostered a relationship with myself and my lonely emptiness. Grab a candle and light a path for yourself. Don't trip, that's important. Keep your feet as low as possible feeling for the things that may take you on a trip to a toothless noselessness. And a sore toe. Or just grow your wings and fly, out beyond the ceiling. I can't breathe. You're choking me. The taser on my back got me sprawling to the ground. And yes, officer.. I'm sorry but what's my crime? The colour of my skin or the shade of your heart and the ugliness of the thoughts in your corrupted mind? What you have been taught. I'm caught. I'm not, guilty. I'm hurt. You hit me where it hurts the most. I do not know who set you up for this but I'm innocent. I absolutely did not deserve the baton you hit my face with. Twice. I did not appreciate the taser that brought intense unconscious pain to my back. And now I'm lifeless. The shot you took that blew my brains out was a nice shot. Good job. Mission accomplished. But am I just your practice target for the rest of them or am I a target because I was born different? Yes, we all sin different and please stop taking advantage of the system. It spits out some sometimes. This madness has to stop. The bodycams apparently see no evil, hear no evil and speak no evil. The account of your mistakes will be recorded. But you know, you can always twist your way around it. Others have done it. "Justifiably". But then what's the point? Losing sleep for something you could have controlled. Piling up bodies to weaken a people. They do wrong but the generalization has killed more peace and brewed more unrest. To do good you have to fight evil. The loudest is that which comes from within. For it makes us act selfishly and entitled. So refrain. Choose wisely. Don't start a fire that can consume you. Seek more wisdom and strength. Shoot no more innocence. Shoot no more innocent souls, your sins have been forgiven. Maybe not by us. And definitely, not forgotten by us. 

R.I.P to all who fell even in their innocence. 

We miss you. 

We pray you forgive us for our silence. 

We pray you forgive them for they did not know what they were doing. 

We pray you forgive yourself too, it was never your fault.

#BlackLivesMatter 

Kiss the Scars off my Lips

Croxt:

The African winds blow faster and that's why there are no weak ones left. The strong ones hold the mother of being in her steadstool. Rooted to the ground. Because from her mouth flows everything good, everything beautiful. The conspiring hearts have their way through things. That's why I fought my way into her heart the most peaceful way. I knew her worth even if she might have thought less of herself. Sometimes we don't know our beauty. We hide behind our scars, almost invisible to everyone else, and pretend we are a bit stronger at our weakest, where we come from. You've seen my younger years and my ambition for a better life. The fire in my eyes. And with you I pledged forever to cherish. We don't cut off just like that. We are invisible humans to our good but project our evil to others. We are not fashioned to be like this. We can be better people. It doesn't take too much to fight this one battle. ;) . But you feel where I'm coming from. As you've kissed a thousand frogs in pursuit of the love you'll find in me, I have also kissed the forbidden fruit. I'm not sure if admiring it without biting, digging in, swallowing counts as a sin. Cast me out not from this garden of bliss. The rose flowers here sing my name in heavenly tunes and the morning dew spells it out on their fresh fierce green leaves. The sharp thorns bend to my touch and their aged strong roots bless me as I walk in their presence. We are all role models, even to ourselves. Keep pushing, keep fighting. Keep following that dream and don't let it waste away in the skylines or behind the city lights. We are all just surviving. You'll find me at the corner place where I eat my bread. I will pour you a glass of wine and we will toast to your freedom. You'll see the pain I have been through, through my eyes and you will feel pity yet admiration for a man who never gave up and finally found love. Joy. I will see the scars your mind has been dragged into and I will whisper in your ears hope. For a better tomorrow. You will see my aging face and I doubt you will be able to fight the blazing urge to kiss the scars off my lips.

The man misunderstood

Croxt:

Let's be candid. Does the government care for your taxes if you happen to be homeless? I don't know. But you give to Caesar what belongs to him anyway. That's how you stay away from trouble. Once you understand whatever needs to be done. And people are like that. Hopeful, and faithful enough to put trust in a passing storm. The thunder is what inspires us. In the rains with a voice to lead, even if misguided, we trust the confident. The braces holding our teeth seldom help us to say things straight. Because sometimes we have so much to say and we opt not to. Somethings are better not said. They are best left unspoken. So to speak sometimes is a blessing and a curse. We say things that tie a knot in our tongues and sometimes, we say things and unchain flawed thinking. Silence is golden. Maybe actions actually speak louder than words. Words become actions, right? For motivated motion is better than pointless direction. To speak and be misunderstood happens. To say nothing and be misunderstood also happens. The waring warrior sets foot in wars he knows he stands a chance. He raises to the occasion when his sword is ready and out of it's scabbard. The tongue itself is a weapon. For even to shout out peace or truth is waging war against those uncomfortable around it. People ultimately hear what they want to thus the man who speaks takes a risk. The consequences of his utterances. To speak carelessly is to act carelessly. The impact is easy to estimate, thanks to the conviction we feel in our voices, the hidden motives swimming at the back of our minds, the beating emptiness echoing in the depth of our hearts. We know little of the weight our words have on others until we've seen the aftermath of their battles. The bigger complete picture. Because to speak is to fight and to fight; only the sharpest swords tear deep. 

Yours sincerely,

The misunderstood man

The Realist

Croxt:

Let's just be real, there are a lot of fake people in this world. Fake it till you make it got a lot of people looking like clones. Not too much is real. But like the wild flower with seeds of a deserted womb, the soil provides and the roots bloom the flowers. The candid gates of realness are guarded day and night and they sort of need a real identification to let you in. The cobbled streets lead to a pain. A pain none else knows. For like gold to be tested, it's put through fire. The small thorns of fakeness prick us each way we contort our body in the heat of the moment and it's better if we remove the thorns before we've walked through those gates. Climb a river of destitution and swim in the mountains of awakening. Your childish rants are a Persian rug infested by bloodthirsty bedbugs. We accept the ruling of the day and the judgement of the night. We learn from others, if that's what makes us fake. Maybe the teachers we have are not doing enough. & that's scary. Because a moulder does not let go of the pot until it's set in fire. We give up quickly, some times too soon. The bravest fight longer because they give themselves to the fight. Our biggest weapon has always been our minds. So the stronger we believe the more likely we achieve. Not everyday though. Because somethings will never happen before their time is due. Like the dew on the ground is new every morning, but no one ever sees it happen in the echoes of the silent night. That's why we fight. Because even when we sleep, evil works against us. So we stay awake even if we dream. To be watchful is to be ready. But before the children of our children have tasted the joys of a tomorrow that knows peace, we must have fought the evils today that are so rampant. We must be vigilant. Because peace can never coexist with chaos. Where there's chaos, peace gets too disturbed to remain. Like when the sins of the earth burden the clouds until they let off some steam to wash it all away. That's how we get forgiven. The rainbow reminds us often of the beauty in the sun meeting our rains. They fellowship together and produce a beauty. So if it is to be anything you desire to become in this world, be water, be light. Or be the outcome of their meeting. For that would make you colourful. Colourful is not fake. Because it shows you where everything came from to be as beautiful. Because we are all many things to different people. Never let anyone judge you in one way as if the rainbow you are did not assure them a peaceful tomorrow. We are made up of so much. We are complex human beings. We are more. We are not just one thing. We are a rainbow of different colours. So there might be evil people in this world but we all get to see the rainbow during the day when it rains. A fair share that. Because it rains for you. You who is silent. You who is doing all to safeguard their minds and hearts. You who knows the value of finding yourself, even in the rains. Because when you shine, you will shine like a promise. And even God knows, promises are made to be kept.

Butterflies don't shit

Croxt:

Because there's no way, something that beautiful would let off something that disgusting, disturbing. Bullshit! Butterflies shit. too. Whatever goes in must come out. To be a butterfly, to begin with, you have to outgrow your caterpillar body and shit it out. Wings come when the filth in us is drained out. That's how we become better people. When we learn to do better. When we soften our hearts and open our minds to things that build. People with a desire to add value into everything that comes their way. I admire that type. You stop lying to yourself about your abilities and fix the inabilities first. You can't fly a plane with a broken wing and birds know this. Because they feel that pain. Not in their pockets. A butterfly with a broken wing breaks my heart. To be beautiful but only to yourself. To be unable to fly that people may see what you have to offer this world. So you're hidden in your small space, feeling small. Because to be honest, sometimes all we need is a little money to make it. I remember when I was small and I would think to myself that if I had the money, I would definitely dress better than those who did I met. And it's every person to their own taste. We all like what we like. And growth is the thing I like most. Growth in all aspects of my life; I have always desired and worked toward. You know you've started from the bottom if people can trace you back to nothingness. And of course you do not want to sit and be comfortable along the way. I'll pass by asking for directions to the top. If there's some zeal left in you, I will persuade you to give it at least one more shot. We will journey together. At your pace unless of course if you happen to be too slow for life. Some journeys need longer steps. For the beauty of a journey is in reaching its destination. To be a butterfly, you will need brighter wings. That's who you were born to be. Beautiful. That's where you get your name. Everything about you is what is beautiful. And of course the whole world doesn't need to see it but to those who land their eyes on you, let them savour the moment. Carry these things with you, that you may bless the ones you meet. I have had this speculation that maybe caterpillars might have wanted so bad to become butterflies. They desired to shed away their caterpillar skins. Some people might see it as shit, but at least it played its part. No one should ever be ungrateful. When we get there, we will have fought the necessary wars we will have needed to fight. That's how we get ready. You bloom when you're ready. And when you need to shit, shit. Get rid of the filth but not in public. Butterflies shit too, it's allowed.

Love you poetry!

Croxt:

The love for reading is like an endless search in a desert. We seek our oases hidden in the inner voices of others. We are concealed when we find pleasure in that which most do not. Little minds find no affection in learning others. They would rather talk about them without figuring why they do the things they do. It's all in poetry. Hidden. Burdened. Sometimes forbidden. Heaven. Golden. And we fail to see mostly what is infront of us until it's outside our reach. So to every little bird I say fly. Fly where they can't reach you. Concealed by a secret only you knew. Be not new to the skies, they shower upon the regulars. They prefer the angels they know. For to rise with wings as a little bird, you grow. You find your place in the clouds and the comfort there nurtures your soul. Bless the skies as you dance upon the mountaintops because they know your name. They have secretly scribbled your name in the clouds as you slept. They wish you well. They love you. That's how things are connected even if the other side is unaware of attachment. Because to love something you have to have wanted it. Sometimes you never even knew to exist until you stumbled upon them. Hidden treasures. Concealed. But you know there are those things you can only love from afar. Poisoning love. We live what we have until it's gone. That's how things work. You can't love what is gone. You can only miss them. The memories you shared. Because to keep loving is to hurt your steps forward. Why would you cripple yourself before you even step outside? Let alone inside the paradise you always desired. It's true. A journey of a thousand miles begins with one step. It's true. So never be afraid to start. It's true. Even if they laugh. They always laugh. We search for humor in everything. They believe in you when you have believed in yourself enough to ignite the engine. That's when they will want to ride with you. Or, upon you, wish they could. You see, people match clothes and at least their minds are not scattered. Like some of ours. Haha. We have found different petals in the same flower. We can not all be the same. It's a thing with robots. Which we are not. Neither are we cattle, to follow the herder's whistle. I believe we can all become better if we only compete with ourselves. Only. People will compare, they do that. It's funny how they find time for other people's affairs. 50 Cent filed for bankruptcy!!! So what? Let every man deal with his troubles. Even Jesus carried his own cross. So don't cross people. No. Some of them are defensive and when they attack they hurt. Don't bring hurt into your life. It's draining. Spend your time on more useful. Better yourself always. That's how greatness is achieved. Forget the pain of yesterday and strive to brighten tomorrow. I apologize for anyone I might have wronged. I am sorry. I apologize when I fuck up. That's what I learnt growing up. Leaving hurt hearts haunts. The careless ones realize it when it's too late. So I have doubts on where it stands on the narrow path of righteousness. I'm awakened that the truth will always set us free. If it is to seek happiness you seek, welcome into my world. There's happiness here. No one cries, we all wipe their tears. Our fears we know and we try daily to overcome those. I'll take you to places you've never been before. We'll explore. We will know more. Bless your soul for reading this far and if you love poetry as I do, write some and send it my way. I will read it and I will let you know what I think about it. People help each other. That's what love is. Being there. So I'll put my pen down tonight and say I love poetry!

Plastic Stuff

Croxt:

Most people love plastic stuff. That's why the world is suffocating this much. We don't pay rent to God or even for the oxygen we freely consume and desperately need to keep alive. We are not ungrateful. It's just that we do not know who to thank sometimes. It's easier to thank yourself if you put in all the work by yourself. The basis for living is the same for everyone, at least we all get the basics. The complexities of human nature is what complicates living. For some have died way before they set foot in their graves. Got choked by the food  they were cooking way before dinner got served. It's an unfair world sometimes. The thing we should never lose is hope. Because hope, coupled with love, covers all. Whatever goes inside anyone should never be used to judge them but what they say, do and respond to show us who they are. Who are we to judge? Because we do not even for sure know how much plastic is hiding inside us. Plastics are very useful, don't get me wrong, but what do we do after we are done with them? We dispose them off. Inside us. We blame ourselves for mistakes and we never know how to let go of our shortcomings. So as I have asked my friend before, what's the price you will put upon that which you value? Your life. How much work will you put in to get rid of the plastic stuff that chokes your hope, your ambition, your love, you vision? A little each day. The plastic stuff I speak of is the jealousy, the hatred, the blame-shifting, the selfishness, the pain, the regrets, the weakness of your mind to your own abilities and anything else that makes you feel small. You were never born to compromise. This is what belittles our imaginations. It can always be done. That's what hope is. Having faith even in the impossible. Work to rid from you these things. That's how people grow. If you ever feel stunted, it's your body giving you a notification to wake up and clean your temple. So if you love your life, as I do, each day you wake, pick out the plastic stuff lodged inside and breathe better.