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---

IN SUMMARY

If there was an alphabet
a single one

.that could summarise my love for you.

i would have used it
expressing my heartfelt to you

but it leaves me writing pages in you
for there is none in replace of
i love you

and there is always more to utter
no matter how i alter to censor
i never get to stop writing.

jot every single feeling in my heart
flip the pages of my chest apart and write
write of all your wildest ideas

write with many wet tongues
in ever flowing inks of saliva
side by side

in summary
never miss to punctuate me with your kisses

for i will be without meaning
void of them in every write up.
---Fampah Coyish---

NOSTALGIA

I grew in a haste
finding love

.missing on all childhood frenzies.

i grew up in a haste
wanting to be adult

jumped all the little things
that made one young
for looking adult looked fun

i skipped mum's breast
in pursuit of a more firmer ones

some thought i was precocious
i was too smart for my own liking

i'm sad i could not ask silly questions
that made childhood fun

i'm left with nothing to be nostalgic about
i wish i could suck mum's saggy breasts
pulled her nips soo hard just for a butt slap-

a nostalgia i yearn for.
---Fampah Coyish---

BEFORE...

Let me
           love
before I die;
                  Let me
die
       before I hate.
                           For the burden of hate is great,
                                            But that of love, is grace.
---Fampah Coyish---

)BAA Bi(A CERTAIN WOMAN)

Tall as a tyre tree
beautiful as the sunset

sits a day light
waiting the night
to kiss her breasts apart

)baa bi(a certain woman) is dying
for nothing but love
like a warrior that
             can't remember his home

)baa yi (this woman)
has no character
like a sterile womb
nothing can be done with her

but )ba bia'ra y3 )baa (but every woman is a woman)
though her use  is only
known by every lonely night

a silk that can only be woven
with the lone loom by nights

)baa yi w) 3nimonyam (a woman painted with curved lines)
but lacks on true love and stability
as the hen lacks on urination

3firi )baa yi suban bi nti. (due to this woman's character)
and this woman also calls herself a woman
but )baa bia'ra ny3 )baa? (but is every woman not a woman?)

.)baa bi as3m.
.a certain woman's story.
---Fampah Coyish---

COLOUR OF LOVE

I met love today;

dark, thick, tall

i never thought she will be that

beautiful, and sexy

she sounded sweet and harsh

.with a calm countenance to match.

she was dark

and wore her dark skin tight

not something i expected

not purplish, reddish

and was very fair to look upon

i have seen the colour of love

it is not really a colour,

but how i chose to see it.

---Fampah Coyish---

WHERE THE FAULT LIES

We never talk that much

cause the phone is always in use-

your phone.

referring to them as dear, sweetie-

other men

other men had access to your attention

than i did

talking of your exes and their likes

in my presence

and i ask where is your common sense?!

but any thoughts of your transparency display

was flawed!

and me of all people  never breath a thing

but you of all people should have known

best

as i oft lay in silence

wrenching my heart from jealousy

throwing back and forth the thought:

. "she had friends before we met".

and this never get to stop

and i breath a word of it

since then, i become the fault

because i got tired of the thoughts

She had guy friends before we met

picking a new thought

i don't care

i cannot beg for your attention

when i am with you

for there is always another man

occupying your attention on the phone.

---Fampah Coyish---