I believe In You

By Damas

I believe in you and all the things you can do

Out of the misery you grew

Dark and weary nights were a part of you,

But can I help you chase away the blues.

There’s a wall of solitude that surrounds you

But I’m willing to walk through and show you a world so beautiful

If only you could reach out to love that is so pure and true

Things are not always good

But I’ll put you in the right mood,

Help you walk in the hood

Give you nice clothes and food

For I fathered you

If only you new how much I have laid out for you

How much I have entrusted in you

you’d believe in your self coz I believe in you

Passion Clouds Wit

By Tapiwa Chiname

It hits me at dawn and in the morning.

It hits me at sunset and at night.

It finally dawns on me that passion clouds wit.

For mine desire for thee made me blind to all else.

So thin is the line between love and hate, passion and loathing, as it is so thin yet so powerful a veneer between the horrors of reality and the, safe, blissful, fertile, ignorant, even imaginative, elusive world.

It hits me that passion for thee, clouded the dictates of mine conciense.

The misgiven heart, persuaded the reasoning intelligence, to savour a derelict engagement. A slave of mine passion I was exuding love where none was reciprocated.

All the smile, all the laughter, yet none of the affection.

All the intimacy, the passion feigned, continued.

Hands that caress mechanically yet, none of the warmth exuded.

Against the vivid inclinations of the brain I went, enchanted by an elusive love.

For the malignant fig leaf covering the naked jaws of the lioness was as my wit, clouded.

Frantically I did endeavour to hold in unison, a precious though broken egg in mine widened fingers poor with illusioned hope, the sticky fluid slipping through.

How I wish thine and thy paths never were doomed to junction, for it was thence that mine wit conceded against thy orchestrated passion.

Like my yellowed fingers, my soul bleeds a perennial flow, the vitality oozing from mine heart as contagion, sets in.

It hits me again, thy heart, was kept still attending on thee when mine mounted structureless figments of thine illusioned imagination. It hits me, passion clouds wit.

The Old Story

By Paris O’ryan

I watch the raindrops fall from the sky

 I feel the soft breeze bow by

My mind is now at peace

And instantly my lips long for our kiss

My heart yearns for yours

And this is how the old story goes

I fell in love with you the second our eyes locked

Time froze

Emotions arose

You knew what I felt

I knew what your heart held

You touched me emotionally

You were always with me spiritually

I thought of you every night

Sounds crazy but it felt right

The old story has turned into a historyWhy I fail to figure why you are not here remains a mystery

But the old story lives on

And even though I mourn

I know it wont be for long

Because what I feel is so strong

It just cant end like this