FINE TUNE, Carl T

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There’s only one fine tune,

there’s only one like you.

How about money for a life,

how about a kiss in between a fight,

your best dress, that sundress,

your beautiful face, beyond the mirage,

your never tied laces, from the mirage,

your pure face, at dawn, as reflected on the kitchen  faucet,

your splendid gaze at dusk, as seen before the offset,

 

Thoughts of happiness,

a preview of a perfect life,

visions, images of a country cabin in the winter,

In my right hand a rainbow bouquet,

on my chest, your magnificent face,

with my left hand I fondle your breast,

 

That in the midst of this cold and mist,

the heat from our hearts would suffice,

that within all this wars and strife, our love would arise.

Carl T

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AS I LAY ROSES

  Carl Tayo           

I lay roses from the tip of the door,

gradually to the end of the staircase,

In my hand a rainbow bouquet,

partially filled with French roses,

prayers, and Love poems.

I wait for you darling,

I wait for that bell ring,
I wait for you,

as I did before I got your attention,

I wait for you that I may stroke your hair,

I wait for you, that even as you tire,

I prepare my harp, flute and lyre,
That I may swing you away,

into the world of your desires.

Emergent

Carl Tayo

Because we are all thinking the same,

we are,

 heroes, emergent,

discoverers of a way of thinking,

a manner of thought,

pacifists, oh! but  we conquer,

residents, proclaimers of peace,

Kings and queens in our own nature,

Studious, but we are mellow,

standing out in all our yellow,

expressing love in all its majesty,

using it to engulf all our travesties,

And so we remain rooted,

declaring our flaws no longer our captors,

casting them asunder,
Gazing not just onto the light of the stars,

but rather fully into the glare of the sun,

for in our eyes, are diamonds,

our sight christened by their light,

uncapped unmeasured ,

merely flattered by its shine.
Yes, we are strange,

for we agree with those that call us peculiar,

for we are not ordinary,

we agree with those who have called us ‘not beautiful’,

for we are beyond beauty
Invincible, existing beyond the human scope,

sympathetic to those who refuse to notice us,

for we are destined for greatness.
For indeed, we are heroes, emergent,

explorers, discoverers of a new way.

Illuded

​Carl Tayo

Culmination of hunger,

the derivation of thirst,

the beginning of sadness,

the future, further into darkness,

in the frame though, brightest,

silence, just colours, soon to be past,

single handedly a mother and a father,

inside the deepest of lovers,

outside the hardest of metals,

aneurysm of desire,

castigation by fear,

socially degraded, mentally sedated,

socially associated, mentally eliminated,

physically annointed, emotionally unattended,

lyrically appointed, sensually unattached,

totally in synch, 

in order with the past,

unavailable to the present, 

ever present in the past,

streamlined, in awe of what I achieved before,

agitated and embroiled by what I have become,
Off balance not ready for the future,

clarity of vision, plenty of resolutions

Elated, and overjoyed by this high notes,

spritually availed, 

uplifted and segregated by this flow,

floating, above and rising,

threatened, in the fear and weakness stirring,

confused, but straightforward in writing,

random rulers, seldom in power,

random beggars, seldom next to the flowers,

No rhyme scheme,

the scheme is my vision.

As we search, Redemption

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And as this songs give us meaning
As this peace we search for gives us prosperity,
As this love, that we so endeavor to acquire, lasts for eternity,
As this honor that we soldiers endeavor to attain, outlasts us,
As this climax that we strive to reach draw nearer,
As this magnificence that we desire, even if we do not declare,
Glare onto us,

For though, we seem to be mere beings,
Creations, of the almighty,
Though we swell in the presence of folly,
Though we appear to be no more flesh and bones,
Though for some reason, we seem to be the weakest of the galaxies,
Restrained and withheld by the magnitude  of our anomalies,
For fallen have we,
Hurt, bruised,
But we are surviors,
Lovers of the struggle,
For we embrace the scars,
Though we love this metallic cars,
We even more appreciate the images,
The pictures of our past,
As we glare onto those dark windows,
From our bright side.

And as we are held back,
Patience our companion,
We endeavour to be mighty,
To scrape the scales,
To render this flaws no more our captors,
That our ugliness may turn into beauty,
That our darkness may be overshadowed by the light,
And that we may find salvation in our redemption.

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By Carl Tayo

Mother to son

By Langston Hughes

Well, son, I’ll tell you:
Life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.
It’s had tacks in it,
And splinters,
And boards torn up,
And places with no carpet on the floor—
Bare.
But all the time
I’se been a-climbin’ on,
And reachin’ landin’s,
And turnin’ corners,
And sometimes goin’ in the dark
Where there ain’t been no light.
So boy, don’t you turn back.
Don’t you set down on the steps
’Cause you finds it’s kinder hard.
Don’t you fall now—
For I’se still goin’, honey,
I’se still climbin’,
And life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.