MORNING

The sun presented herself naked
with no rays on

fixing her face gradually
fixating her smile on me

.a poor soul pouring  thoughts in every think.

whence comes my help?
will i chance on a smile
if i be chanced to approach one?

my bed holds me back from waking
and the doors of  my brains ajar 

with every thought brewed 
ending with a tangy taste.

the careless drives of nights 
always ends each morning in a fatal demise 
every morning is a funeral.
---Fampah Coyish---

THE MARK

Where your eyes meet mine
and the sky on the horizon
 is where the sky kissed the ocean

Then we fell in
not in the ocean
but in each other's' arms

There we kissed
not the ocean
but each other's lips.

Where the fog dimmed our sights
on the peak of the mountain
is where we began

.we began to lose focus.

Focus of importance
not of the peak
but of our love

No-no-no
it was not the fog
it was our wearied eyes.

we looked far too much
we missed the mark.
---Fampah Coyish---

LYNCHED

Wining wasn't tall in our heart

neither was losing a stout potbellies

we have this story in our hearts

we cannot run past

& so it unfolds

we had six packs minds

ripped thoughts

that walled our women safe

then...

they

broke us in the eyes of our women

with whips and gons

till we lost our value as kings in their eyes

but our numbers multiplied

so they poured thoughts in our brains

.they washed our black brains white.

washed us of all thoughts we held dear

made us inferior in ourselves

whiter the brain the useful the being

by adding a little of their white

in our women

gathered us together and divided us

by looks, height, colour, stature

...three zero six years now

some of us still hold our brains black

so they are still washing

till we lose all the blackness within

now

our men are chasing the fair

our women becoming the fair

and changing the hair

to gain our favour

our children are washed white before birth

with no accent no culture

no manners no melanin

.the lion after taken from his kingdom

has been told he's a cute lamb and has believed it.

our minds are washed

the masters knew first

the melanin was in our brain not in our skin

the melanin is lynched!

---Fampah Coyish---

MY NæME

You're so pretty
i lost my name
when you asked  it

i forgot my hands in my pocket
as you borrowed me yours

.i forgot i had hands.

& sometimes i do still search for
my name
and forget my hands around you.
---Fampah Coyish---