From Yesterday…

I remember a tale of Thursday, a dark one sent through the mail, sealed,
I see what you said about how out things played and wonder how you stood by and watched as I left, betrayed,
Even a horse cannot speak but at least it would have neighed, a donkey brayed,
You, just remained, rooted, and silent you stayed,
Your silhouette even looked on dismayed.

All I trusted about your persona became but a murmur I muffle within,
Everything I endeared you for, your aura displayed ever so proper, rusted and fell apart against veritable winds,
You seemed so distinct, unique in a plethora of vainglorious chic, upheld and worth protecting from the fiends,
Oh how I did not know your glow was a cover for your horror, fled I should have, but instead I fell into your whims.

You gleam to others, but I know you are nothing short of a monster,
While I may have lost my brothers, my wits remain ever-present, well aware of your skills as imposter,
Consider yourself dead to me, unforgiven and outcast, I see no need to have treated like a lover or better,
Worse is all you are worthy of given what you offered, see yourself to the door or jump off the banister.

From yesterday I have arrived at today looking to stay on to tomorrow,
And along my journey I have derived the truth of your perfidy, hooking on the noose to end my sorrow,
You shall not see a better day after all you have brought upon me without a sympathetic delay, say goodbye to anyone you hold close in that cavity so hollow,
Heartless you may have made me this May, but trust that you were always a shell from the beginning, that I should have known.

Yours in equanimity,

Evans Mbora Campbell.

Attention Attention

Is this interaction a distraction and is my inaction an interruption?
Have you seen much result from my failure to tailor my every decision to your required precision?
I am forlorn and my sole is worn from all the battles never won against being a solo simpleton,
Can I hand over the troubles I mull upon to another so we can shoulder them as two strong?
Do you see the degree to which this suffering is affecting we and all we wish to build; our foundation?

Meh, many may be causing this not so seamless scene,
But why must we accept such trespassing if it betters not our sheen as a team?
I’m fatigued by having to deal with all these uninteresting beings, intent on destroying us with a sword fling,
I am taking none of their dithering, among other antics, aiming at derailing our every initiative,
Instead I am choosing pushing them aside, that we focus on our efforts combining, harmonising the song we sing,
In my stead I would rather have you push in the key to open a door to a side where we can see our futures emerge as bright; harvesting the fruits we sowed with so much enthusiasm.

I see my confidante in a bride in waiting,
I picture a serene verdant in which we sit outside stargazing,
I see a child among a pair or three, running around excitedly,
I feel like you know of what I am speaking,
I hear the sounds of your confidence in your breathing as you lay on my chest soothing,
I smell the imminence in the morning, the breath I take in let’s me know it’s another chance to pursue for what I’ve truly been hoping,

That in tears and in cheers,
These years shall surprise our peers,
As I prove I am

Yours in perpetuity,

Evans Mbora Campbell.

Drop the Beat

Hello, hey, can you hear my appellation,
It’s bouncing, off the walls aye, are you not listening to the vibrations?
I am here with the mellow, yaay, can’t you feel the natural gyrations?
I fill your hollow, by day, at night can’t you see my determination?
If not you must be shallow, like that fish the call cray, how else do I explain this frustration?

Let me get you creeping out of the woodwork, make you jerk and free your muscles to relax,
Soothe the passion out of its traps, this stress to which you so strongly clasp won’t let you, even for a breath, gasp
I’m up to the task of seeing you last and quench your thirst, but first we must have you freed from the murk,
The dark has been your home for so long we must have you returned with not a chance that you will go back,
So jam, jam, jam, feel these rhythms and dance, give joy to yourself, why continue to lack?

The needle hits the vinyl and unleashes the groove within,
Like hooves on the ground that bass it hits and it pounds until you’re helpless to resist the song it sings,
That treble makes you a rebel as it becks and it calls you to give in to the sweetest of sins,
Take those vocals and understand the accord they bring forth with an entreaty, hearken to their words and let your soul speak.
Heel to heel, thumb to middle, click,
Take that new trick to the floor and feel that deep house music.

Silly old me, addicted to these tunes so neat,

Jamming to perpetuity,

Evans Mbora Campbell

One Last Attempt

What I really wanted back then was to be cherished and held,
I wished not to be haunted by never-ending regret and memories of what never happened,
But look at me now, tormented, the ghost of my memory comtinually contests my content, I am pummelled,
And you remain the missing finger in my unwarranted quartet, solo and with a role, untouchable when needed.

Have you ever been before a floor full of people who would love to have you adored?
Because at your door I stood as that horde and wished you would see me as I waited, ignored,
I rang that bell until my fingers were sore from working on the knob and staying optimistically crossed,
Your friend heard my shout placed an ear where I knocked, but only chuckled and left me for dead as she too had my attempt cockblocked.

So I decided to take matters into hands mine and find my own face time,
clambering up your mansion’s side, I let my grime inspire more effort as I climbed,
Your voice was at the peak of my daring, a sign of the glorious end awaiting me as a reward for my legal crime,
I must reach you and have you know I owe my love to you, want you in my life,
Would want to behold your fair ways, take you on drives out and about on the countryside,
Kiss your tired eyes as I lay you to rest each night,
Smile in delight as you wake up to a new day, my sunlight,
I decided I would envision you as within reach, not just fantasise,
And so I made that climb, clambering up your mansion’s side,
at that balcony I pray it is you I find.

Bless your soul, you are here,
I bundle over like a newborn foal, presentation isn’t dear,
Take me as your coal, the diamond shall shine once I have you near,
The precious that is your pleasure, my major goal;
Shall expose the treasure of my character to leave my crystals clear.

I am hoping you can stop standing and staring as I lay before thee,
Pick me up, call my name maybe?
For I have waited so patiently to be here, however momentary,
Please tell me you wish to see more to it eventually,
Drop those hands from your gaping mouth and reach out to me,

That I may be,

Yours in perpetuity,

Evans Mbora Campbell.

Hear Ye Hear Ye

Power-hungry and out for money,
No foe not left begging or for safety scrambling,
I could conquer all as behind me more I rally,
But why seek to crush you when your fall is but a calling,
You will lead yourself over the wall, and deal with the wildlings.

I bay for blood and slaughter all your herds,
I seek no third, or second, only first,
My thirst is not for curd, and I will have not a word from you heard,
I instead burn for the mantle, like a stag disgruntled I will prance and kick until my way is had,
I do not need, from you, to earn, I shall trot over your carcass glad,
Your fall I assure you is none of my concern, for underfoot it is certain you will land.

I kiss, embrace, lift and hold close,
But you miss, disgrace, drift and blow a hose,
I charged you down while the wind was behind me, and the swell of the sea rose,
I marched in proud while your troops cowered in hiding, and the wells of the city were as red as rose,
You stand no chance against me in this battle of envy, why boast?
I shunned your only chance as blasphemy in this prattle of (yours) vanity, you lie a ghost.

I would advise you take a knee and accept the hierarchy that is me,
For I am regally,

Yours in authority,

Evans Mbora Campbell.

Everything In Between

So I knelt down and prayed,
Actually, no I didn’t,
I held my breath and anticipated a voice ever so hailed,
In silence I listened to my own heart drum at the parade,
The rolls almost ushering that voice in, but still, nothing came.

Asking myself the mystical, critical questions about who, what and where I came from is a battle not to be won,
I would much rather dare, however, to venture on with my armour worn and remain stubborn in my pursuit of a tenable solution,
Sitting on the fence has my shorts torn, not to mention, hurt my buttock, and I would much rather see to it that I’m enjoying comfort,
Wondering if I’ll be blessed or cursed for my blatant indecision on religion is reason enough to avoid derision of it as a means to be peaceful in my seclusion,
Who knows when we shall reach our conclusion? Surely not you or he who stands at that pulpit giving you quotations and interpretations,
But yet we trust in the unseen as if the illusion of a magic trick is any less likely to cause confusion, and much less worthy of our believing with conviction.

Walk with yourself for a second or two,
does too much goes on within to attribute to a mere, mortal you?
Are the revelations that you find even yours to claim as ‘mine’ if half the time you believe them to be divine?
assisted not by your remarkable mind, but by an enigmatic, misunderstood, maybe contrived ‘guy’ all up somewhere high and selcouth?

Queries we could dig quarries trying to answer but only spin stories that wouldn’t matter,
In the general frame of all things earthen, a pattern that would emerge evident is when we do good we are rewarded, implicitly or as we perceive the consequences,
And when we do bad we can act content with what we get though we know our ways are rotten and being caught, if not imminent, is ever a possibility until we’re dead.
Everything in between is a matter of choices, checked boxes and tolls taken, issues resolved and other cases opened,
How we deal with it all, through good and bad, is really all a matter of You then.

Yours in perpetuity,

Evans Mbora Campbell.

Scenic for a Cynic

I, have none other to satisfy,
Pride is my only drive,
Self I must actualise,
Only wealth materially satisfies,
Health for my physical ties,
Narcissism for everything else otherwise.

Toes are to be stepped on,
After all, were they not a double entendre from the get-go?
Shoulders must be ice-cold,
Contact must be so,
Time is scarce to sit and bond,
When the world has so much I could hoard.

Look at you, pixilated and unhinged,
To be dictated unconvinced,
I shall have you castigated for your wince,
Flagellated for your whims,
Exacerbated are your needs,
But I’m sated provided it is I who wins.

Yours in inequity,

Evans Mbora Campbell.

Swear or Pear

Pick a pear that we can share as a pair,
If you dare I will declare that my heart is your ├ęclair,
I will give you no scare, never not care, and be there when all else turns to naught and you despair,
But pick a swear and I will not be as filled with flair.

Leave me bare, I’ll lie here with the salt in my wounds to bear,
I’ll try to sit up but prefer to stare, hoping you’ll feel the pierce of my glare,
If you choose to be this unfair, at least make sure you leave me with the fare -
to board your every nightmare, and leave you just as happiness-impaired.

The reprieve I seek to receive is not a gift I expect you to give,
You step all over my toes as I grieve and ignore my pleas, tossing them aside as I feel deceived,
You are nothing but a malignant thief, seeking my end as you feed your ravenous greed,
If I am wrong in what I perceive, misled in my belief, Then prove me to be that I may forgive.

Stay with me here and hear my misgivings,
Be by my ear all year and nurse my shortcomings,
Stay by my shears, my enemies are consumed with vindictive malice in amounts sheer,
Do right by my peers, into the future through the past they have peered.

Will you choose to refuse the other side?
Will you be enthused or bemused when your decision is clear as day before your eyes?
I’m not afraid to lose if it will mean being a recluse away from lies,
But I wouldn’t mind if I could seduce away the screws that would have me denied.

Yours in uncertainty,

Evans Mbora Campbell.

The Devil You Know

I could sit, on the floor,
better yet, kneel, to implore,
But even if you were worth the effort I would build a fort by day and a fort
-night, will not have passed without me wishing you the same plight I hoped for with fervent might since you crossed my line of sight,
I could lift and would gift a tonne-loaded forklift to anyone that could tear you a new rift
-Valley that you may sink deep into an abyss too dark for even mist to shape-shift.

In my sighs I learn that the devil cannot be burned for no urn can contain such scum,
And in my lies I find that it’s just my turn to feel the pain of the scrum I am forced into by your pattern of being perturbed,
I could, in my outcry, shed a tear, act concerned, fear that your love I have earned,
But I would sooner, in my decrying, find a grave for the sun next to where the unicorns from your barn reside.

It’s all pointless, futile and relentlessness eases no stress,
But alas in all my motions I act like your morning lotion, lightly caress and fade away into your breast,
So why is it such a complex process, a Herculean task hardly as easy as the mythical tests?
Would you prefer if I suckled like a child from your chest and made my life your armrest?
Would life feel simpler if I became a healer and proclaimed to offer the cure to my Detest?
Should even the latter be possible and I could create a mouthful of medicine to deal with myself,
There would be no point being any less thankful for what only a handful such as yourself
could bestow to one obstinate little elf, fending foes to acquire the only inextricable wealth,
Education by experience, brought to you by an abundance of pathological attempts to retain control of self.

Who am I on this lonely planet we call home?
Another free spirit to live free, die young, find love in Rome?
Or another decreed outlaw sentenced to eat with pigs, die hung, find ‘have’ in a poem?
Does it matter which hand I choose to feed from if it is not my own?
What worth is to be the decision of one who has none condoned?
Enigmas in translation, find no meaning in semantics or diction, this must be a chapter even that deity never closed.

Yours in perpetuity,

Evans Mbora Campbell.
~Home Alone~

Such and Such

“What’s up?”, “Nothing much,” I replied,
We’ve lost touch, haven’t spoken much since July,
I want to fuss, look around and cuss, but my mind declines,
You’ve been good I trust, I’m no longer feeling that thirst, once so blind.

I diligently searched, and as such, was surprised not to find,
A hint of my musk, or even a shirt, left behind,
It seems you have cursed, or buried in the dirt, all that was mine,
Clearly here is my drop from first, my lips I purse, I brace for the decline.

The temerity lingering in your every word,
Shared your identity with this crooked world,
I could argue your integrity and spin and swirl,
But no nicety could fool us all,
Yours is a frightening spell you see, and away from thee we must crawl.

We fuss and we fight about such and such,
And so you’ve earned the right to match your match,
But while we toss and turn at night, having nightmares much too much,
We should be making love and dreaming of heart to hearts.

Yours in perpetuity,

Evans Mbora Campbell.