When the cheerful sun goes down
And the gloves come off before the brawl starts,
Innocence stained with evil dye.
I will sit in the shady corner of the pub ,
Supping my cold meal with rats.
Then I will cloak myself with night,
Charging my dark horse into the race.
That one whose trophy is blood;
Streaming scarlet ribbons of it.
For hatred festers in my heart,
Like a maggot infested wound,
Seeping phlegmy pus of resentment.
Lo I will eat your heart out
And in the frost fanged cold I find one thing eternal amongst your smouldering ruins.
© Sena Kodjokuma 2014



White light
Lurid lights
Hogtied and strung up
I swing
Back and forth; pendulum.
The searing pain
Of fingernails tearing.
I let out a muffled scream
The stinking sock balled in my mouth
Constricts my tongue.
Then comes the feathers
When pleasure becomes pain
My eyes bulge
And my feet are wrung.
Then the steam iron
Leaving latticed burns.
The smell of singed hairs and flesh
Eerily like cooking bacon.
I heave
Right back into my mouth
The vise comes in
Tarsals break
No different
My piss sterilizes the metal before my scrotum goes in.
Nerve endings exposed
And pain!
Brilliant scarlet dots of it.
My head explodes
Blood plopping on the floor.
Yet the stinking sock holds.
I’m going to die
Yes I know it.
But they keep bringing me back to life.
After they take me to the doorway.
Fingernails please don’t grow back.
Nature working on their side.
Bones fractured from the sledgehammer.
And all I can see are white lights.
Lurid light.

© Sena Kodjokuma 2014

The Wildling

I met the wildling a while ago
Took her home and harbored her.
Fierce little creature she was
Feisty and mercurial
She is one helluva package.
See? I have the scars to prove it.

The wildling was up to mischief again today
She fought the class bully on the playground.
Leaving his crown in bloody tatters
They lay around.
And he run home squealing like the little piggy he is.

The wildling was up to mischief again today.
She spread glue all over the teacher’s chair
And when the hapless adult tried to stand
He left his dignity firmly rooted
With his pink face in shame.

The wildling was up to mischief again today
She put sugar in the soup
And tried to ride the dog like a pony
Not enamored by her rousing
He left his mark on her thigh
But the little wildling smote him for his fickleness.
We now have the only earless dog in the neighborhood.

The wildling went to high school today
But quickly ran back
For not having breasts
She wept and wept
Her tears a waterfall.

The wildling came home again today.
Isolation was her only friend
And her hair was a rusty halo
From her restless hands.

Ah wildling.
You are fierce and mercurial
A helluva package
But surely restraint becomes you.

The wildling never changed
Not when her breasts arrived
Or her first kiss
Though she adapted
She would never be a china doll.
Get under her skin
And you would see the wildling within.


The world doesn’t flow around me.
Barely anyone knows I exist.
Normalcy becomes me.
Difference is the same.
I can barely keep in line.
And I cannot save you.
I am no hero.
I cannot destroy a city
While bashing your demons.
I do not have a nemesis.
I am afraid.
What I can do
Is work out our genesis.
What I can do
Is be human.
What I can do
Is you.
Will you be saved?

© Sena Kodjokuma 2014

Free Night

Fingers clicking the keypad in rote
The familiar hush before she says hello.
Before her giddy excitement breaks the mellow.
Then the daily wind down.
Then the intransitive nature peeks through.
And memories.
Annoying drivers and suitors.
The golden conversation about nothing.
Yet talking about everything.
The hushed whispers when the shadow is under the door.
The regretful good bye as the sun blushes.
The night has flown by.

© Sena Kodjokuma 2014

Little Dreamer Boy

Little dreamer boy
Your mind oddly big
Forever afloat; a buoy
Your flights of imagination are unparalleled.

Little dreamer boy
Wake up!
The classroom is not for sleep
But to learn the secrets of the world.
Fuel for diving into the deep.

Little dreamer boy
Read and read
For knowledge is the sharpest blade you can own.
Forever whetted by wit
It imbibes only which strengthens it.

Little dreamer boy
Being creative is unique
But being unique is not creative.
Stand above all
For if you merely stand out
you will surely be hammered back into shape.

Little dreamer boy
You will not always be right
However take heart
Because you will not always be wrong either.

Little dreamer boy
A life without love is waste
So love the beauty of people
And understand their hate
For that is the variety of life.

Little dreamer boy
Never stop dreaming
But then give your dreams life.
With your God-given hands
You can mimic the ultimate dreamer.

Little dreamer boy
Fire burns away
And water dissipates
But your imagination is shackled only by you.
Will it be the universe?
Or a drop of water in a puddle
Only you can say.

So Little dreamer boy
Your mind oddly big
Forever afloat; a buoy
Your flights of imagination are unparalleled.
Lets keep it that way.

© Sena Kodjokuma 2014


Rufus Kodjokuma was my dog. He lived and died as any dog would; happy. I feel a deep sense of loss as I type. Death is never easy. As a pet owner the feeling of grief is not different from losing a human. I suppose the attachment built makes it so hard. I have just come back from a walk and there is no one home to greet me. I scan his familiar haunts and he is nowhere to be seen. I guess it would take a while to get used to.I remember the day I got him. It was five years ago in June 2009. He was a month old squirmy puppy. I carried him home and named him on the way. We shared a bed together. My mattress still faintly stinks of his urine. The cats we own gave him a cold welcome. He actually pooped on himself. He outlived four generations of his feline friends though. (They were either stolen or given away.) Rufus grew in leaps and bounds. Forever a bundle of energy and smiles he would roughhouse every moment he got. When he grew too big to stay inside I would still cuddle him on occasion. He was my silent companions on walks when I was thinking or bitter.On the day he died it was rainy like had been for a while now. The help had refused to chain him up for the day. He had been acting aggressively and bitten someone a few days earlier so the chain was a necessary precaution. He adored the help and followed her to our shop. Somewhere around one pm she called me. “Rufus is dead. A car knocked him down while he was chasing after another dog.” I went over and saw him laid there. Houseflies were buzzing all over him but otherwise he could have been asleep. He was still warm when I touched him. He had survived a car crash before with a broken leg and chipped teeth. This time it was not to be. I guess his number was up. I will eat and stare mournfully at my leftovers. Because Rufus will not be there to gobble them. Rufus showed me what love and devotion meant. He was happy all the time. The light danced in his eyes and he smiled the way only dogs do the last time I saw him. Bye bye Rufus. You will be missed sorely.