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---