By Eddy Ongili


There must be a way to feel
To live
To turn off logic

To derail thoughts in shapes
And fume upon the irrationality
of the heart

To love by all motions
of papers and skin
Between the flows of a violin
Closer to the ink of symphony
Without any bullshit.

To fight on a field of ghostly flowers
Cold even
Only blown apart by an orchestra
of unrequition
or stormy requition

To find the mist on the skin of the sun
To fall in weight of subliminal waters.
The idea of language
Is to be born out of museums
As lips
For only the heart possess the
artefacts and souveniors
As broken, stitched and stolen.

Conquests are struggles

But when the plurality of love fires up
In writing
The heart rationalizes its need
In utter freedom
To subject the mind to gusts of
Memory and ache.

For sanity is a byproduct
of chance and loss.

We merely tell our desires.


Eddy Ongili is a Kenyan writer and a part-time critic currently pursuing his Bachelors Degree in Procurement and Logistics.
He has written extensively for online publications and has been featured in an ebook Anthology by Eldorets Poets Association. He regularly blogs on where he is learning to diversify his writing while sticking close to his mission as an inspirational poet.

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