Friend, War, and Zone 

I heard a rumour about

the place I did leave

I hear them say that this place

it’s harder than war zone
This rumour is a first degree lie

In war zone, 

Blood is spilled, men are killed

Husbands are lost, widows are found

Belief is questioned, hope is hard

Peace is difficult 

what of little children  who lose their fathers 

And watch their mothers cry

Who consoles them

What of the prisoners of war

Bound in chains, locked in cells

Because of the war they lost

They sit as comfortable as their chains would allow

Hoping freedom will come before they are dead

What of the innocent victims

who were butchered like animals

 They who took up no arms

and died because their soldiers couldn’t defend them

What of our mothers and daughters 

who are defiled and left to console one another

What of those who care for the sick

and treat the wounded

when it might be their last

What of those who have to choose

Between their life and that of another

What of those who choose their life

and end up losing it

What of those who choose that of another

and are not themselves prepared to meet their Maker

What of those who are afraid to sleep

because they want to see the sun again 

What of those who do not sleep

so they don’t forget the faces of their loved ones

What of those who die without saying goodbye

What of those who rather be dead

Than be without their loved ones

What of those who never recover

and remain forever lost 

This rumour is not just a lie, a distortion of truth

it’s an insult, a degradation 

A spit on the grave

We be quiet 

lest the dead stir in their graves

Yes, we are hurting 

yes, we have been rejected

but our wounded pride and broken hearts

are but a stepping stone

that ought to help us be less foolish, wiser lovable and more loving 

And we will love again

Won’t we

Long live the King 

No-one cheers the man I’ve become. Mostly, they just cheer the “King” I used to be. None of their cheers acknowledges or appreciates me in exile. So on this happy day, I walk, imagining a crowd in my mind, cheering me on. A crowd with the knowledge of who I am. They appreciate the person I’ve become and they still feel I can be a King, maybe my own King. They are chanting as I walk by, “long live the King in exile”, “may you live long”. I am happy because I’m properly appreciated even if it’s just by me. 


Who says love is greater than hope

I had love and I had hope

I lost love and hope made me keep trying 

Now I’m losing hope

I know I will lose everything 

Who says faith is greater than hope

When I had hope I believed 

That one day my redemption 

Will come and stay

Now, as hope makes a final stand

I know my end is near

I am

I am my own angel
my own demon

my own heaven

my own hell
This is a truth I can live with 

A truth I can die for

But no, you came with your teachings

Telling me that I can be neither of these things 

How would you know

You who call me angel

When I live as a demon 

With my mind as hell 

From which my demons carry out their many torments

As my hands make heaven with my body

Tell me

How would you know? 

First Step

If I’m not going to make it

I rather die now than later

If I don’t believe in God

Then there’s no hell nor heaven

Only nothingness

Don’t let me live through this 

And reward me with nothingness 

I pick the nothingness 

Now not later


Today is the day he realized that he is always going to be okay. His answer is always going to be “I’m okay” even when he is not, even when his thoughts are shape-shifting and he is scared that he is going to have an aneurysm in the process.

 Today is the day that he united with his demon. He is now his demon and his demon is him. Now he hopes they can live peacefully as one. They have been hating each other for long so this he had to do. 

Today, is the day he gave up.

#Today #Givingup


If the dead could speak 

I would sit by his grave

And listen to him speak 

Every single day

But the dead don’t speak

he would have told me
Or something far wiser

which my mind can’t think of,

only understand 

And he would tell me

All of the conditions under which

the dead did speak, 

If they ever did speak

His voice and words connect

The loopholes in my mind 

Then I am whole again

Only him has been able to do so

Some of the others widen the holes

Twenty two and half minutes with him

And he would have taught

 my eyes to see, my ears to hear

my mind to think and my body to sleep

My legs to walk, my mouth to speak 

And my life to love

I do not always know the voice of God,

when He does speak

Fulton’s voice I know

Speak to me Fulton, for you know God

O Fulton, gift of God to man

A teacher like Jesus

Where are all the men like thee? 

I have questions, Fulton


I can’t seem to fall asleep 

Now I get jealous of those who sleep

Those who close their eyes and sleep comes at once

I stay up in the dark

And the devil is quick to lure my lonely tired mind  

To do his bidding

Some nights I lose hope

And I wish I didn’t need to sleep 

That I could lay on bed and close my eyes all through the night 

Then reality lets himself become visible for a moment

And I can see him even with my eyes closed

His appearance makes it clear to me 

That there’s nothing on the other side of hope

Losing hope means that I have to keep vigil with my demons

I try praying for rescue

And from the background, I hear demons pray for my destruction 

I find their words catchy and soon join them

In praying for my demise

I answer their prayer for them

By doing their bidding 

Then I feel guilty 

My demons placate me by being quiet

Then I’m able to sleep 

But I wake up with you bags under my eyes 

As proof of my sin and punishment 


You demons that torment us

What happens when your torment makes us

Seek revenge that is due

We will stay up at night with you

Till one day we meet you and your kind 

down below to torment you in kind

Torment you we will

Even if we take suffering as our bill