Rue Beloved Gono

Bed Peace : Insomnia  The second poem titled Bed Peace in this collection. This one would take a less metaphorical stance it's predecessor  that spoke about racial supremacy in interracial relationships. I am actually speaking about getting  peace in bed. A peaceful night's sleep.  It's no big surprise that I wrote this poem on a night when I couldn't sleep but I think what bothered me so much is how I had no sensible reason to be up that night. I was not thinking about anything, I wasn't stressing, I had had a busy day and had gone to the gym at the end of the day. I had every reason to pass out as soon as my head hit the pillow yet here I was; eyes wide open waiting for something to hit.  I remember reading somewhere that peace was required for good sleep and it had me think: so if one has no peace in their heart could that be reason they would be tossing and turning and fighting to get some shut eye?  And perhaps it is true, that even if you do manage to close yo

Backstory I purposely put this poem after 'A Sad Poem' in the collection to enforce the idea that was expressed at the end of poem 1. That idea was 'I am going to continue writing about sad topics if I feel like it.' The Bilayer Of Existing is a poem about how hard life can seem sometimes and that at times you go through all the pain by yourself. It's not a facial expression or a change in diet or dressing sense that everyone can notice. When you cry there might not even be physical signs like tears and wailing but does that mean you're content with your reality? Nope. You find yourself fighting the good fight alone and it's painful but you continue. I explore a few themes in this short poem, one of the most important is how there are other things that contribute to our lives than just the will to live . I strongly believe that if it was just about the will - a number of us would have opted to end it a while ago. But it's more than that. The

As my dream of becoming a published author ebbs closer and closer, I'm finding increasingly difficult to balance my regular schedule with my writing. Being a full time student and also a self published author is not all that the right of being called such promises. I've been having sleepless  nights for a long time chasing after both dreams of becoming a scientist and a poet. Each dream demands so much from me and I willing give myself 10 thousand times over. Does it hurt? Yes. But it's so worth it. Today I wanted to get you thinking about what you are doing in your life. It doesn't have to be a grand well planned out life purpose. Even if you think about the things you plan to do today, this afternoon, tomorrow. Are you investing who you are in those plans. Are you sacrificing anything to make it happen? And sacrifice is a word that gets such a bad rep. My philosophy is sacrificing doesn't have to always hurt, especially if you ensure that you understand th

A Sad Poem: Backstory I'd like to think that most writers and or creatives are often faced with the choice of producing something that people will like verses what you want to produce. Sometimes, for the lucky, these are one and the same thing but other times, the conversation you want to have is not the one that will resonate well with your current audience. However I've learnt that, someone out there, somewhere wants to have that conversation with you so speak about whatever the hell you want. A Sad Poem - simply titled- is my declaration of my stance as a creative. I remember a few conversations I've had with people where they ask me why I write such depressing poetry. The people around me claimed that this kind of literature was too sad for their liking and that it said a lot about the author. At the time I didn't want to be seen as a sad person, I did not write my poetry to make other sad either- I still don't. I started feeling terrible for producing suc

I often like to tell people that most of my poetry just comes to me...  And after some years of stocking up on poetry collection after poetry collection I don't think I'll reach the level of pressuring myself to write something new for publishing purposes. I have so much in store for my readers that it's literally me just giving you guys a chance to breathe after every publication. Little girl Blue is one that couldn't wait. I remember sitting with a friend of mine one day going through some of my previous works that are still to this day unreleased. We read through a few of the poems and he went "Damn, which one is this one?" I proceeded to tell him that it was a collection I wrote when I was like 15 and even reading it now it's still content that I would like others to see. A message I still want to get out there, and I will share it soon but this wasn't the right time. Little girl Blue is a collection that I'm publishing right after comp

Read My New Book!

Run from 3002 Synonyms for Goodbye He keeps warning me of the bad person he is Reminds himself of the times he’s been selfish Of the hearts he’s broken And the dried up wound he once gnawed open just to sprinkle salt over it so it could burn again Tells me, To be careful Reminds me to buckle up Or perhaps run away before the pain gets too much for me to handle What he doesn’t know Is I’m worse I am the hurricane without cold front The man flu without the first shiver The shark bite without the fin above the water The cancer without the lump I come like a wild fire Refusing to be tamed Inside me is a hungry lioness that only eats your pain And when she bites she opens up her heart so freely You think its Love-It looks like freedom You get blinded by the magnificence you forget you’re looking at sharp teeth And an empty stomach When she feeds She feeds selfishly, leftovers are for the broken She will never be broken But in the end someone has to be So maybe

3002 Synonyms For Goodbye It was October around 3am. I took a look at every poem I had ever written for this boy and I thought I don't want these. But they were so beautiful and personal and he had never seen them either. So I thought what if I gave them to him. A farewell gift. At that time I had copied 3/4 preexisting poems into a word document. Immediately I wrote 3 more. A few days after that, the poems just kept coming to me, everything I wanted to say. Everything I felt. Issues I needed reviewed and didn't quite understand myself. I even included some lyrics that reminded me of him and expressed how I felt as well. The original document had exactly 3002 words on the dot. When I reached that mark, I paused, named the document and turned the file into a pdf and decided to sleep on the idea of printing and sending the letter by mail. Surprisingly, no one has really ever asked me why 3002 was the number I chose. But here's the reason anyway; the year is 2019, a c