Seeds in my mouth

I carry hope like a seed in my mouth.

Certain of the things I hope for,

Sure of what I cannot see

Watermelons grow in my gut:

They expand and drop, some seeds fall and others remain in place.


But they fight with the Lemon seeds under my tongue

They are sour, and never sweet.

Seeds of guilt for things I should have done,

And for the things I will not do.

The seeds rotate beneath and infuse my mouth with yellow.


I want to spit out the responsibility beside my gums,

It helps me to grow so my mouth is swollen now.

I cradle it like some Orange seeds –

They’re in my mouth there, and the taste is familiar

I am tired of familiar flavours.


There are Wood-apple seeds beneath my molars.

My pain threshold is high but those seeds are so brown –

I see them as pain and that’s what they cause me.

The fruit is ugly and pain is unattractive

But I don’t know how to extract them.


When I find joy, my tongue will turn red

The millions of seeds from those strawberries will explode,

And will release colours I didn’t know they had inside.

So I have to keep my mouth shut.

Wood-apple and Lemon burn, but I can’t let joy get away.

The Sun Trilogy

I remember that I’d rather write about the sun, and how orange it is today.

Not like the fruit in the bowl on the wooden dining table, but more like the gold you imagine heaven to be. I don’t think heaven is white; I think it’s gold.

This is the kind of sun that dwells in the back of your eyes for 5 minutes until you look at it again and it happens once or twice more – once so far.

The sun isn’t hot from where I am; it’s 10 degrees here outside. But I never experience this sun with the wind that drives me to the refuge of my bed, broken and cold too.


I hardly saw the sun today, but I did see it in the reflection of the bus window.

It’s like God got a colour somewhere between Peach and Periwinkle Blue, and used a wide and thick brush to gently swipe over the burning sun. Although,  the only thing about the sun that burnt was its colour. I wasn’t that hot.

And God has carried on this brush  past the sun to its left and right; more so to the right. I’m not good at painting, see, I’m not sure how he executed it so well.

The rest is a blur of sky that you’d see on a day with an average sunset.

But that side, where I found the sun today, still illuminated my area, and my mind.


I didn’t see the sun today; not once. Although, I knew of the supermoon that was seen in Eastern Standard Time.
When the sky looks like this, I wonder where the sun is because I can’t feel it’s warmth – that’s why I’m cold, I know.

So, let me create a sun as a result. Today’s sun is dull as God continues to drag his paintbrush across it. We can’t tell if it’s the kind of sun that gives you a headache at 4:30pm.

But, it’s omnipresent and powerful. A thing in the corner of our eye, the elephant in the room (GMT).

It will fade early and intensify late, like it would at this time of the year. I’ve probably seen this sun before.