Poetry: The Real You

by Nzamuye Derrick

I want to talk, not about the weather.

I could care less if it’s hot or cold.

I want to talk, not about life or even your ambitions,

Definitely not about the world cup or the media tax.

I want to talk, not about who is popular or what’s trending on twitter.

Atleast not today.

I want to talk only about your darkest fantasies, your dirtiest thoughts.

Your deepest darkest secrets, the things you’ve put away in your mind.

Whose keys you’ve hidden far but close enough to reach, for when no one is looking.

Tell me the truth of your most bizarre thoughts, those obsessions that reek of gasoline.

Those thoughts you seek safety from only because if brought to light.

Would have your african mother cursing you.

Those thoughts that come alive only after midnight.

Tell me everything, the battles you’ve lost.

The wars you’ve won, in your mind.

Let me in, let me undress your mind without a fight.

Let me break you, you seem firm.

Mere shaking, I reckon won’t shatter those locks.

Give me a road map, to that maze of a mind.

Tell me about the person you would be, if no one was judging.

Maybe then i’ll write something raw.

Something pure!!


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WORD: 4 Days ✊

4 days

You must be thinking, what is 4 days!!
Well, 4 days, that is Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday. But then again,what is 4 days?

See, my niece Clarice (may her soul Rest in Peace), she lived for 4 days, so if you ask me what 4 days is, 4 days was a lifetime for her.

See my 4 days were bliss, wonder, perfect and dare I say euphoria by name.

See these 4 days like a fast passing wind were swift. The kind of days you only live once, the kind of days you don’t see coming and almost never see leave, the kind of days, the kind of kinds that deny you the chance of any good-byes.

The kind of days that take and take all they can, giving little or nothing back, no well dones, no thank yous (just how i like them) occasionally letting a little grin slide through … they sound mean right!!

Well i hate to disagree but no, see these days they live no regrets behind, only a strong sense of dejavu, desire to re-live and insomnia every now and then.

And scents, yes scents, well with these it’s kind of a love-hate relationship, sometimes they’ll make you jiggle, on other days you prefer the smell of burnt tires to them …


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