Kelewele By The Ocean & Love Distins

What if we cooked in the kitchen today and I made a mess of the recipe
Or mess up the fufu because I can’t pound for shit
Or palm-nut soup isn’t really your forte because you spent your time roaming the pages of a book
Instead of staying with mom and learning to cook
So we go out instead and buy tubs of ice cream and mountains of candy
Munching on the opposite ends of a chocolate bar
Would be so much fun wouldn’t it

What if we lay on the roof of your house stargazing
Staring at the crescent moon instead
Because city lights drown out the stars
Then you blot out the stars with your silhouette
Because I can hear your heart beating in anticipation
Or maybe it’s mine because I’d roll you over and show you the secrets of the universe patterned in my moonshine eyes
And I’d tell you we are billions of years old because we’re all made of the same stuff as the stars and the earth and the air and that was really where we go back to being when we die
Would be heavenly wouldn’t it

What if we went on a stroll through the market
Jay walking across the street and tasting everything some
Window shopping and laughing at everything and everyone
Annoying the market women mocking the “fools in love” while they prattle the latest gossip
And we wouldn’t care because we won’t buy their stuff anyways
Would be hilarious wouldn’t it

What if we skipped work and lectures and lay in bed all day
Leg over leg
Playing music loudly
Feeling each other with our intimate parts
Grunting and giggling and groping and kissing and pulling and sighing
Ecstasy dancing
In the shadows the curtains cast
Would be wild wouldn’t it

What if we went on a date at night and had kelewele by the ocean
Savouring the spicy tang while the sobolo sweats in the ice bucket
While we listen to the waves crash against the shore
Frothing in harmony with the pale sands
We would tease the water with our feet and listen to our hearts beat cradled at the foot of the coconut palm
As our fingers kiss and lace and the electric warmth caresses our nestled figure
Wild and exotic and full of imagination
Freed of Monday mornings and rush hour
In moments like this
Time stands still
Would be so romantic wouldn’t it

© Sena Frost 2k17

image courtesy Google Images

A Twin Story

I knew a pair of twins once
Fair and bewitching 
Witty and full of charm
They were alike in many ways but one
They were as like day and night 
While I was drawn to the dark night
The day bright was no less delightful 
We had many talks 
While the day wove her tales of light 
The night spoke of stars bright 
Alas 
I fell in love with them both 
And in the trouble of choosing either 
I ended up with neither 
For as I pondered and floundered
They met strangers in their ceaseless wander 
Full of wonder 
The day went with the warm sun 
And the night kissed the moon man
Poor me!
And with my heart rent asunder
I looked at them from afar 
Unable to speak
But seeing them full of joy
I smiled a tear streaked smile 
And wondered where all the time went 
Because I miss them terribly 
~ Bluebird & Pee

Image courtesy Pinterest 

© Sena Frost 2k17

Untitled 9

I have never felt as much pressure to make something of myself as I do now. I realize I do not want to join the higher education and employment mill. I also realize I am not as feral as I think I am to break the mold yet. The only thing I can do is write. If you feel like you’re sinking with all the dead-weight of broken promises then this rant is probably for you. If you mind your own business and keep slugging away, maybe one day we will escape this harsh reality.

At least that’s what I think

1

My eyelids flickered open

It was dark

The familiar dark

I let out a sigh and shuffled off my pallet

My feet crept

Searching for my slippers

2

The piss streamed into the bowl

Clinking gold against the clear porcelain

Morning wood handily tucked away

I yawned

Bucket in hand to join the queue

It was mercifully short

3

I dunked my head with water again

It chilled me

Again and again

My skin was numbed

But my eyes smarted from lather

Oh what a bother!

4

I spied the clock

As I straddled the stool

The brush scrubbed merrily

The worn leather smiling with crowfeet

I buckled on my belt

And spied the clock

5

Tro-tro rumbling through my favourite music

Standing at the main gate so Elton the guard would wave me in

Pushing paper

Feeling the angst building up in my throat

Almost like the boil throbbing on my badly shaved chin

Another day flies by

6

Jostling against bodies

As I tighten my grip on my phone

Tro-tro rumbling through my favourite music

As my phone flickers with notifications

I trek the last mile home

All peace and music

7

Something more than this

I want it

A splash of colour staining the dour days

A glimmer of gold stealing through the doorways

I feel a lot of things

Lost when the preacher is on the radio

8

Angry when mama calls to split my pay check

Powerless when I have to join the queue

I don’t phone anybody anymore

I feel tired

But then how do you get tired from doing nothing?

9

Maybe I can try again

Face the sun with my skinny chest pouted

And a paunch which doesn’t reflect the belt it swallows whole

Maybe I will find joy

Because I grate my teeth

Baring them at enemies hidden in the dark

10

The familiar dark

I am fighting

In a cage

I am in a never-ending queue

My dreams

I leave them in the dark

11

Sometimes they grin through the worn leather; crowfeet and all

I burst out into laughter sometimes

She likes the way I laugh

Says it’s like Christmas lights in June

But I hardly do that anymore

Always grim

12

Sometimes I dream

That there is an eagle on my shoulder

Yet I am the eagle

Then my eyelids flicker open in the dark

The familiar dark

I burst into laughter

13

Victim

Hero

Villain

All that bullshit

Whatever the fuck I am

I am alive

14

While I am still

Unbroken

I believe

A splash of colour staining the dour days

Will happen soon

A tingle of excitement ridges my spine when I think like that

15

I sleep

Dreaming of women with toothy smiles and wild mango breasts

And thatched pussies

Slow dancing while I slip between their brush and pluck their succulent fruits

I wake to queues of pisspots lining the path to fame

And people drinking readily from them

16

Life is one moment for me

Push paper

Work

Whine and fuss

And when I get home and sleep and wake

Repeat

17

I feel like a rock perched on a mountain

And I gave shelter

Who shelters the rock in a storm

When it thunders and crackles lightning

Under the purple skies

I landslide into ignominy when they aren’t looking

 

18

I feel fear

Wetting my pants

The pungent smell of shitting myself is a nightmare

I hobble when bowel pangs tear at me

Lest I make it a public spectacle

I will die of brittle pride

 

19

Fuck it

I will make it

More than anything

Even if life is showing me the middle finger

When I do the things I love I will be happy

At least that’s what I think

© Sena Frost 2k17

 

Sacking a Beautiful City

The ramparts shone

For many miles around

The city was a thing of beauty

The crown jewel of the country

It was a beautiful place

It was a holy place

It was where hungry warlords came to make peace

And slake their thirst for blood

It was a place of knowledge

But nothing lasts forever

And one day

This city would know no more calm

Already the dogs of war were baying
The ramparts shivered

The gates buckled

As they rammed it

Again and again

Perspiration rose in a fine mist over their heads as they heaved

The iron groaned in agony

As the invaders thumped again

The defenders would not be cowed

They spilled boiling oil from the ramparts

It gushed in the rain of arrows

So much so that

A feather pocked porcupine stood at the portcullis
The ramparts smoked

Black tendrils coiling into the sky

Over the din of clash of steel on steel

As grunts reverberated all over the city

They poured in through the broken gates

The invaders

The lust of the battle glowed in their eyes

As they hewed anything that moved which wasn’t theirs

Berserkers

They grew stronger as blood eddied in gullies around them
The ramparts fell

In gouts of flame

Clutching at the space they once held

The king all bloodied and weary

Stood before the invader

The invader smiled and laid his weapon before the king

He who had known peace

Was struck down in a clean sweep

Hacked by war

And as his guts spilled

The invader pissed on his yet breathing corpse

Just because he could

The city burned

Because

The invader did not have to worry about consequences

War brought wealth

And innocence was just collateral

But for the survivors of the sacked city

This was a box of memories

They held in their hearts

As shackles bound them

The broken sky wept

 

© Sena Frost 2k17

Rape and other forms of molestation breaks children in many ways before they are grown. Some scars never heal and like a sacked city, they carry the ghosts of an innocence that can never be regained. 

Daughter Of Man

 

Daughter of man

Blessed with a bosom capped with twin peaks

Emblazoned with dark tipped nipples

Lancing into my mouth

Jousting with the thrust of my tongue

Take me up into you
Take me into the place they call sin

The enclave hushed up by the priests

That none may speak freely of

That place

Where kings shorn themselves of their crowns

Take me into the place

Where Samson gave away his strength

Envelop me with your nether lips

That warm embrace the hedonist never forgets

 

Daughter of man

Blessed with a derriere so bountiful

Juggled by the sway of your hips

Lay me on your altar of gold

Pierce me with the dagger of your eyes

Wash me with the taste of your lips

Even as the fire of my loins burns

Erecting the tower of my pride

Babel reaching for the stars

Despite the flush of my cheeks

Teach me the ways of your castle

That I may lay my life down to defend it

 

Daughter of man

Adorned in the skin of the bronzed sands

Touched with the obsidian of the night

Caressed with the haze of a snowstorm

Let me into your infinite wetness

The ocean pacific of sweet loving

Animate my desire in your well of creation

So I can unlock the secrets of life

Hidden within the palaces of pleasure welled up in you

 

Daughter of man

Allow me to rappel those twin peaks

So I may embrace their dark tipped cupolas

Winding down like an acrobat

Let me overturn your mound

Tending the sweet spot

Of pleasure tendrils convulsing the cradle that is your body

In the throbbing of my need

Or the unwound coils of your want

In night or day

In the beginning and forever more

And at the height of our pleasure

We become like

God

 

© Sena Frost 2k17

image courtesy opinionatedmale.com

anamnesis

i.

My eyes flick open

In the darkness

I lay there

Listening to the sounds

The guttural whine of stomachs emptying

The grindstone whirs

Muscled into

Revolutions per minute

Gyrating to

Steady kinetic energy

Centrifuging

From the thoughts

Of

The makers

 

ii.

the day sparks into being

being alive

maybe it’s just a dream

I wield an ax

Still in the dark

No, it’s not all dark

There’s some sun

Sifting through the bars of the too small window

But just enough

To know that

I see

I’m alive

 

 

iii.

The handle is rough in my hands

Hewn clumsily

yet skillfully balanced

I swing

Feel the muscles ripple

In response to

Synapses crackling

Terabytes of data

Shooting in an instance

A single arc of

Motion

The doors clank open

 

iv.

I hear them first

As I shuffle in the semi darkness

Right hand firmly planted on the wall

It pulsates

From the stamping of feet

The slice of metal on metal

Climbs above the din

Grunts

The scratch of well-balanced gaits

Locked in a dance in the sands

Chop

Then a roar

 

v.

I am fettered

The cool metal clinks around my waist

My left leg bound

To a ball

My hands

My hands are free

But only just

Chains snake from my forearms

To my ax handle

I can move

In a clumsy man’s shuffle

 

vi.

Blinded

The searing pain

Sets my pores ablaze

The sun

White

My wrists smoulder

As

My chains burn

Etching themselves into my skin

My eyelids flicker

 

vii.

He strikes first

Instinctively I parry

Then dig my heels in

There is a whoosh

As he swings

Too wide

I duck and jab

Into his solar plexus

A heavy grunt

Then there is sand in my eyes

I hear his feet shift

The ground shakes

From the stomping

I am fettered

He swings

Too wide again

I dance away

And swing

An arc curving upwards

I slice

Through skin and bone and sinew

Warm blood kisses my feet

Then there is the roar

 

viii.

The greater good is a necessary evil

It forces men to think outside themselves

For the ultimate pride

We are but playthings

Discarded when we are broken

Cut down in the bloom of youth

Or old and frail and degenerate

If they try to linger

Maybe one day we will know God

Perhaps not

The cool water washes it away

Everything

Leaving not a scar

Of the day

 

ix.

I am unbound

And a brand

White hot

Is held to my cheek

I scream

Not that it matters

A chuck of spit crowns my head

Accompanied by

A flurry of rotten vegetables

And old man’s urine

I see their eyes

Little pools of judgement

And a sadness

Burning behind

Everything

They are sunken in belief

Of everything but themselves

The curses

Smiting my ears

If only they worked

 

x.

The pain!

It cuts through my back

The whip cracks

Agony!

Oh pain

Sweet unceasing pain

After a while

I feel nothing

Smell nothing

Taste nothing

But the coppery tang of blood in my mouth

I see red

As I am jolted to my feet

Everything fades away

White noise

Nothing matters

It breaks you down

Every time you wake

The ultimate savage

Rendering equality as myth

Life

I am weary

Broken

I am alone

A recollection

Of what was

My eyes shut close

Into darkness

 

©_sena_frost ‘17

 

Old-Man Logan-Wolverine, X-Men. Marvel Comics

image courtesy google.com

 

 

LIFE CYCLES

RAINSTORMS

THE PASTOR’S VOICE ON THE RADIO

HAS NEVER CHANGED.

NOT ONCE IN THIRTY YEARS

WE SIMPLY JUST GREW UP.

 

IT IS OUR TURN

TO REPEAT OUR PARENTS’ MISTAKES

AND STEAM IN THE

HOTBLOOD

OF OUR YOUTH.

 

THE FERRIS WHEEL ROTATES

REACHING INTO THE SKY

ONLY TO STOP AT THE EARTH

SO WE CAN CLIMB OUT

AFTER SEEING HEAVEN.

 

WE WILL GROW

WITH REGRETS

OF HOW WE THREW CHANCES AWAY

IN THE NAME OF LOVE.

 

ALL THIS WHILE

THE PASTOR’S VOICE ON THE RADIO

HAS NEVER CHANGED.

NOT ONCE IN THIRTY YEARS

IT RAINS

 

A VIOLENT RUCKUS

BLACKS OUT THE PRESENT

IN THE GLOW OF A LAMP

WE SLEEP WITHOUT.

 

THIS WORLD KEEPS CHANGING

ONLY BECAUSE WE ARE GROWING INTO IT

IT IS OUR TURN

TO REPEAT OUR PARENTS’ MISTAKES.

NOTHING HAS CHANGED.

 

RAINSTORMS

A VIOLENT RUCKUS

HOT BLOOD

IN THE NAME OF LOVE

THE PASTOR’S VOICE HAS NEVER CHANGED.

 

_SENA_FROST ‘17