BUT MAKE ME NOT FALL

Hold me under many galaxies
And let us watch each cloud pass our gaze
In their hasty shapeless forms

.But make me not fall.

playground of innocence
let us climb the trees of play
And pluck the fruits of childish victory

.but make me not fall.

Fall into these deepest fountains of emotions
Streaming in your eyes as I look down at you
Washing away my strengths by unlacing Every iota of strength
Tying my heart in it stern place.
Sometimes being strong is only being weak

.But please make me not fall.

Maybe we could climb the mountains behind the forbidden forests
and search for the adventures we always talk about at midnight
to see if we can create our own wonderland
but when our parents come searching for us
let us ...let us run faster
to catch up with them in distance

.but make me not fall.

Even when my limbs cannot hold
Let me not fall
O make me not fall
Fly me over these swift currents
And the distance covered may it not be merged
For if it does my weakness may make me fall

and at the end
we shall be silent
The scars from the fall
tattooed on our hands
would be a guide to prevent us from falling

.make me not fall.

your hands should guide me.

Fampah Coyish &Marrietta Degrant

BROKEN MEN

The face of a broken man is a map
filled with sketches
of many unsure places.

but why do all broken men
look like a pyramid-
so full outside 
but so caved-in
with embalmed carcasses 

and where really
do broken men go to heal? 
---Fampah Coyish---


Photo Credit: Fampah Coyish by Hashmullah Kwophi Mawuli DaCelibate

IN A PREY'S VOICE

A please in a girl's voice
Is a dense atmosphere with no humidity
Misty clouds that motivates;
Strangulations, rattling of underwears, panties and bras.

It is actually a bitter taste plea that annoys the beast
That encourages unpardonable moans 
Birthing painful orgasms.

I lost my virginity to a stranger
Because I said please. 
And they say I should have said no -which I did!

But no tone of no and pleases can massage
An orgasm hungry mind
To have sympathy and empathy.
I was just a prey in his clenched teeth.
& no amount of whimpering
Could have dissuaded the beast. 
---Fampah Coyish---

Photo credit: Google

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

EROJOBO

all the times i spent searching
walking miles for a cure
for my lonesomeness

then you came,
and i knew you would some day come

to fill this gap that has been left unfilled
then you filled it with your presence
i told everyone i have found the one

.erojobo, i found love.

yet the rope that tied us continually loosed as we tied

& little did we know;
we only unlaced ourselves by tying these knots of love

erojobo, i lost the one thing that i found
---Fampah Coyish---

WATERY SOUL

i have been told by many broken voices
that love is a flame that consumes the soul when neared
and i keep wondering
how come mine has not been lit,
or is my soul made of water?
---Fampah Coyish---


Photo credit: google

WHEN YOU LEFT YOUR BODY

When you left your body
we did not know what to do with it
now you have become a song
in our dried mouths

I hope we figure your rhythms out
for since you left the tabernacle
we have still not learn to figure your notes up

Papa still cannot sing your song
and Mama still beats her breast

I still wonder if it is for the beauty
of the song
or the hurt stuck between the teeth of her heart after all these years

When you left your body,
Sista could not know what to do with your name
so Sista wove your name into music.

.we cover our tongues with each night.

but Papa and mama are still finding it
hard enough to cover their tongues
fully with it.

After all these years Sister,
your name still remains a song in our mouths
which is hard to sing.
---Fampah Coyish---
©Awoken by Poems-Fampah Coyish 2018

BROKEN MIRROR & THE PERFECTIONIST

i am a broken mirror
sometimes i just need someone
to pick me up, look their faces in mine
and smile

.that assurance that i am valuable.

that in my broken nature
i too, could serve a purpose
at least be useful in mine own way.

you could not look me
in my broken nature for long.
you could not admire to behold
my imperfect state.

Oh, i was a broken mirror!
also capable of giving my opinion
worth advising and hold a confidence
when handed one

capable of sharing scaring secrets with!
just like the other whole pieces.

you looked far too much
on my broken edges
and the cracks within

and when i stood before you
it always was the crooked edges  you focused on
forgetting my little uses each day.

i was a broken mirror
and you could not admire
to accept my imperfect nature.

Oh, i was a broken mirror
and you, my poor perfectionist.
---Fampah Coyish---

©Awoken by Poems-Fampah Coyish 2018

FOR SOME REASONS

There are some girls
who could not have the opportunity
to call a man daddy
because the men who where strong in making them
for some reasons could not stand strong
to accept and own them.

There are some boys
who could have been better off
with a woman to call mother,
but the women that begat them
for some reasons forgot them.
---Fampah Coyish---

I REMEMBER...

i remember the day
you said you will take your own life
because i could not love you
how you expected me to.
     that night, i begged you not to
and you still threatened me
that you will not survive the morning
if my love will not thrive with you through that night 

and the mornings on wards
     i remember  i told you i loved you
and love could not cure all diseases-
that i could not stand your untamed manners
             .and you promised in a pool of tears
              a second chance would birth your change.
     but that was when i should have sublimed with the night
leaving no traces of my love with you
     i should have allowed you too!
my mistake was making you live
when i had the opportunity to help you
count those pills down your throat,
one by one, colour by colour
---Fampah Coyish---

LET ME

If I am given this chance

I shall fix

           -i shall put in place

Every broken piece

                           Of this broken heart

Like a jigsaw puzzle

I shall mend this brittle broken heart

                                    and straighten that crooked

smile on your lips.

STILL GRATEFUL