The Unsure Poem

maybe a vagina, is not only a keyhole for a penis.
they say;

.there are many other things that fits well in the keyhole of a vagina.

maybe a penis, is not the only key
to open the gates of a vagina.
---Fampah Coyish---

Photo Credit: Google

Taste of My Father

my mother still remembers the taste of my father .
she could still taste him from the distance.
she still some times tell me of how he smells.
she said, your father smells like baked clay-

.very appealing to taste, but not worth consuming.

no matter how far the wind blows my father in distance.
it is not able to take away how he tastes in my mother's mouth.
---Fampah Coyish---

Photo Credit: Your Black World.

when love decides

love will always leave you sore
when you want to own her.

so don't own her. let him be.

when he wants to leave you
after showing your face the smell of the sun

she'll leave, but you unhurt
unbroken
unburnt.
---Fampah Coyish---

Photo Credit: google

my depression is an arse

when my depression speaks to me
it isn't words of encouragements
it isn't words of motivation
it isn't nice words.

.can you believe he once called me a psychopath!.

when my depression speaks to me
it is always a name calling like; 
loser! moron!
lazybones! ass!

when my depression speaks to me
he drains all the energy 
to love 
to smile
and be nice to others from me.
---Fampah Coyish---


Illustration: Clara Lieu Fine Arts

taste of god

they say god is sweet-god is sweet
but i have known a man who tasted god 
and still cannot figure out his tastes;
indeed, he is the mother for the motherless,
& a mother is next to god -

yet i have seen the remains 
of a man who shot himself thrice in the mouth
because he tasted a mother
for twenty-seven years, and in each,
it did not taste like god.

---Fampah Coyish---

Photo Credit: ammonland.com 

|Afiä|

let me unveil you,
teach you of the things you have not learned of yourself
walk my fingers on the parallel lines on your body 

following through the oasis and islands and low lands

and let us see where it meets.

let us see how tiring this journey could be
for i have learned the curved lines on the body of a woman do not meet 
not even in space like all parallel lines do

let me prove to you that some curved lines do not meet
and they lie on the body of a woman.
come let me teach you, of things your tuition and curriculums do not cover.
come, let us learn of yourself.
---Fampah Coyish---

Muse & Photo credit: Ariah Williams

OLD FASHION

‘To be a boy is to be dirty’
he said to be a woman,
all you need is a torn hymen.
mummy, daddy said he loves you
but he loves me more

because my breast looks
more rounded, unlike yours
he loves to see me naked more often.

last year he entered my room 
slipped into my pants
& landed in between my thighs.
daddy says i should not tell you else,
your love for him will go stale.

an obedient daughter of a man
whose dagger he cannot lay quiet in its sheath i was,
being obedient like to you have taught me

i am pregnant for you mum,
a child of your own blood.
i am sorry.

weep not, the second child you couldn’t bear daddy
i give you
the day he knew i had a hymen
he took me, and broke it
to him, keeping a hymen safe is old fashion.
---Fampah Coyish---


Photo Credit:[nigeriareporter.com]

"ANYBODY HERE!"

i am lost in the middle of a nowhere
inside my mind; a dark vast hall...

turns out i do not know all the places inside my own mind.
a pool of premature thoughts drowns me
and i cannot get out
i am sinking deep,
and find none to rescue me out of my head.

.i am all alone.

& the resounding of my voice cannot seem to penetrate through my skull.
i wish i could be heard-
i want to be heard!

perhaps, i could be helped.
so i keep echoing; is anybody there!,
is anybody here!!
can anyone please hear me?
all out loud in my head.
but it is just my voice and myself alone in here.
---Fampah Coyish---

Picture credit: google pictures