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#clowning

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Weekends are for relaxing
So when we’re not exploring, eating
Or killing bats and spiders
We wear humor on our faces
And tongues
We say outrageous things
And pretend the world is ours
Coz we heard it belongs
To those who can afford
To stop and smell the flowers

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When The Dam Breaks

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I pray this cup is taken away from me
But if I must bear it
If these weary walls collapse and the dam breaks
I’ll invite those I consider closest to come drink with me
From this cup of destruction
Knowing that at the end of it all
When chaos is replaced by calm
Everything will be made whole
And if the faith of those I trust should be blinded
By the weight of this chalice
It will only confirm my suspicions:
You’re the only person I can count on when the dam breaks

September

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Empty bottles on the ground
Golden brown marshmallows​ on the right end
Of the two luckiest twigs in the world
Roasting over a dying fire
The stars in their millions look on
As we bathe in this glorious September moonlight
Counting days and counting sheep
To the sound of brays and hoots
And in the distance the silent hills stand still
There’s nowhere in the world I’d rather be
Than here with you getting high on life
Creating weed scented memories

The World Is Not Enough

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The world is not enough
You need a little bit of heaven
The day is not enough
You need a little bit of night
Living is not enough
You need a little bit of love
Kissing is not enough
You need a warm big hug
Chasing the sun
Nine till five, Monday to Friday
Week after week
It’s a toxic cycle our lives follow
Perfectly carving out a slice of emptiness
When will this end
This weekend, perhaps the next
Even though it’s a short lived thrill
The memories that are born
Whenever our worlds collide
Eclipse the hollowness that is my life

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I’d rather be back home in Mfuwe smoking marijuana
Than waste another minute here
Working my nerve over something I know I can’t fix
Curse the fool who said
It will all make sense when get older
And shame to me for believing him

Boy Meets Girl

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Remember that night we meet for the very first time?
When my eyes were greeted by your sweetly sculpted silhouette
Accentuated by the lively swing of your hips and your comely voice
As you  emerged from the shadows​ and into my life that starry September night
It was poetry in motion

Do you remember how the sun bled for you the following evening?
How a thousand petals were pasted to a mundane sky
Creating a magnificent roseate sunset just for you
And you still have the audacity to wonder why I’m so into you…
Just try to remember that weekend and you’ll know why

 

Day One Eight Three Nine

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I’m tempted to say this is the most
Exciting day of my life but that would be a lie
As any day spent with you is special in its own way
And always leaves me struggling to find
Superlatives to use to describe it
Yet to say it’s special doesn’t fully capture
The immensity of the moment
And that’s what it’s all about – moments
Fractions of time that give greater meaning
To the portrait we’re constantly painting
So I’ll take this moment to say that
Even though it’s day one eight three nine on the calendar
It’s still day one in my heart