Tuesday Poem by Tonney Ibe


Maybe our scars are different,
But we have both bled:
The inmost dwelling
A haunted house.
Scraped on the keel,
This body hikes on its heel
In search of the infamous hill,
Where peace burns eternally:
It is El Dorado!
My wounds are vales oozing
Steam, hot lava, and mild tremors;
My life, a festival for flies
To feed as I bleed
And brood, and break.
I have contemplated in the dark,
The devil’s deed
One time too many.
I saw heaven flaked in rum
Running from a crystal decanter,
A solemn wish to die drunk,
And stay dead until a waking.
So why cloak the gash
Dealt by life’s lash
Under checkered smiles?
Cry, Scream,
Burst at the seams!
Maybe our scars are different,
But pain is a universal brunt.
Yours I’ve carried before,
Mine you might feel sometime.
If only sleep slaked worries,
The monotonous honking of lorries
Would scurry into the distance.
If only the roadmap to clarity,
Were more than a dream in death,
It would all be for nought.
Mining the black dot
That is a lifelong commitment,
I am crying, screaming,
And bursting at the seams!
A new scar is underway.