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  • vibx_poetry 5w


    My woman is no prey
    But if I be a hunter
    My catch is the finest.

    Curvy sway left and right
    Just like a deja vu
    She is coming-to-pass

    ©vibx_poetry 21'

  • vibx_poetry 15w

    Where are we now?

    Where are we now?
    We are a people of life and color
    Food that savour our core
    Ancestral eulogy that we adore, but
    Diversity without candour
    We stir and serve penury
    In golden plates of bemuse
    Eating with expensive cutleries
    And wine that cannot come from palms, except it's Italian.

    Our contributions are only irrelevant,
    Since government of the day holds the mantle.
    We sit on our high horses
    Arrogating affairs from our
    Thrones of hypocrisy and inane critics
    I'm responsible as much as you are
    we can choose when we are ready
    To own our farmland or
    Be a passerby amidst chaos on our heritage.
    So, where are we now?


  • vibx_poetry 23w

    Arrested by an holiday

    From over the seas, it crept quickly.
    Hands of affliction had formed a first
    Smashing past it way.
    Men like steak It, made a feast
    Common cold becomes uncertain
    "Ring an emergency" they would alarm

    Like a wild fire in harmattan,
    It caught up with the round world
    Every skyscraper and thatched roof alike
    Beyond borders of foes and allies
    A killer with no compromise

    In demand, was a sacrifice
    The world on holiday.
    No! not to appease the monster
    A good wash would suffice
    But to tame this everyday,
    We stayed together in a distance.

    We said it is a silent war, a vendetta
    They said it is a power takeover
    We said it is a plague by God
    They said it is the end time
    We kept guessing, yet
    Arrested by an holiday.


  • vibx_poetry 24w

    Earth to blame?

    Placards are superheroes that fly in agitation.
    Yet in tons do plastic drift.
    Bloody greed swirl in oil.
    On the west, bushfire gulps koalas.
    In a fragile panic you quake the depth of soil
    In every volcanic eruption .

    Belief elope with imagination,
    When we dreamt with open eyes.
    In our head, a brilliant colouration
    But imagination won't meet belief.

    A world that dims to fold,
    Violence that screams cold,
    Knowledge that few has hold,
    Dreams are decisions untold,
    Opportunities hawked like wares and sold,
    Time is fleeting, only clocks are bold.
    Cuddled by the hands of meaning
    She covers us to sleep
    With or without a dirge.


  • vibx_poetry 24w


    Daring arrogance of the golden beam
    Sends it's rays, snooping through curtains
    Accompanied with a morning breeze

    See children of Adam
    Just as the day we cried into the world
    Compelled by nature or pleasure
    It's indifference appeals anyway

    Awkwardly, I see again your radiant smile
    We begin, sprightly at your gentle beckon
    Reassuring another take of a mile
    Hoping our best decisions receive not a reckon


  • vibx_poetry 24w

    A look at the mirror...

    I have a crush on me
    A dimple that greets the smile of others
    Causes me a little giggle.
    I'm the mesmerizing enchantment of others

    You, my true lover and rival
    Life could be the colors of our dreams
    Bread and clothes, we strive for survival
    Yet we glide in our prime

    I think of you, even when I'm you
    Our eyes meet on the mirror
    Moments could be gay,
    One a poet cannot but cede into euphoria
    Of his muse. At bay.

    Looking at the mirror
    Butterflies of many colors dance
    In a stream of dawn.
    In another lifetime
    Let's be you.


  • vibx_poetry 24w

    I was there.

    I was there, in nothingness.
    When Adam woke up to a dream.
    When waters obeyed a staff

    I was there, when prophecies declared
    A special birth so common.
    A common birth so special.

    I was there, when cripples in joyful belief
    Threw away their lame aid.
    Healed injuries; and told Lazarus to come out!

    I was there, we sat to hear parables
    Of a squanderer and forgiveness.
    Relishing the abundance of two fishes and five loaves.

    I know, we hail hosanna, like many years ago
    Yet we placed on him a crown of ridicule
    And forced a tree on his back.

    Heavy trickle blood and waters
    Poured into our chalice of sacrifice
    From whips and tears
    Hanging from the tree, in painful silence

    We've always been there
    Through every page of The Book.
    Mere mortals wrote, to vouch
    But from nothingness inspired of the spirit.


  • vibx_poetry 24w


    Empty clangs the loudest
    Busy beckons on busy.
    Tittle tattle without interactions
    Undue shallow interpretations
    In the noise, I'm a disturbing quiet
    Within, silent violence.

    I beckon with a cold little whisper
    Every wound tells the story
    Of a weightless sigh.
    Look into a soul's eye
    No tears, just a silent whimper.
    Your assumptions fume my fury

    Empty rooms echo no answer
    So my fears and doubt, I drank
    In the chalice of pretense
    I walked away into my shell again.
    Picking piece of myself by piece.
    An iteration, it winded to be

    We are objects of compare
    We are laid, ambushed by deceit and violence
    We don't ever meet your expectations,
    We are subject of your scorn
    We became slaves to your reasons,
    Our vitality became sapless.

    One decision you left on my platter
    Was to be born again, a way I know not
    My mind a carousel, with a sad laughter
    I stared at the bottle. It unknots
    In a glance
    Twas over and good riddance!


  • vibx_poetry 24w


    Your reason is my prison
    I'm gagged without shackles.
    When will I get a break, Papa?
    I'm a shadow of your fantasies
    The puppet of your wannabe,
    Found in the loss of our roots.

    Apt 'semblance of the old germination
    Though an ameliorate version emerge
    Soaring from the nursery, life stages
    Yet I see through your eyes
    Let me bask when it shines, glide when it appeals
    Time as fleeting, a friendly foe

    Remember, I'm a gift to the cosmos
    Release my explorations
    Unheard of, if a tree feeds only its owner
    Now made a debtor of your visions
    Hence, the fruit suffers for its roots
    Quiet! Is the pestilence that poisons my prime

    My voice is gripped with his iron-hand
    Yet gagged without shackles
    Trifling are my words, to his ears
    Laughter as subtle soon fades
    Forlorn, moping at the threshold of salvation
    Since Mama taught us, "cast your cares to the cross".

    And maybe when life is far spent
    When age defiles black for grey
    My fruits may become my shadow too
    Eating from the same roots
    Which bore us all, as fruits
    And never, ever setting a pace.


  • vibx_poetry 27w

    To the river above

    To the river above
    Flowing in a still perspective
    A signature like a dove
    All at once, I see, one spread
    Mystic, only within your cove

    Hungry is our knowledge
    Though daily is the task at hand
    Tower of Babel has fallen
    Yet our satellites are afloat.
    A glimpse of You we seek.

    All eyes look above, to reach.
    Our eyes filled with upward beauty
    Rainbow and stars and sun and the moon;
    Are, but wonderful bewilder,
    Of the river above.