Not everything that stands out is outstanding.

Category: English

Somewhere between the oons

Somewhere between
Quadroon, Octoroon
Quintroon, Decihexoon
Triacontadidoon, Hexaconta
Kunta kente all the way back to
Calling me a baboon?
Somewhere between
I’ve been mingling for many moons
So many moons
I can’t remember who made this balloon
Bubbles burst like a confused teen pimple
Life long puberty
Somewhere between
A small Brazilian owl with a beetle face
A Mexican wolf dessert gaze
An emasculated mule, dual
A Taino black bird
Samba dances
Somewhere between
White satin cloth
Black raggity sloth
And the cheap brown knot
All caught by the sun pillage
Worn out, forgotten glories
Somewhere between
Human and animal
A descent hidden and flammable
Tame and wild
Sainted and radical
Can’t speak any body language
Named like dinosaurs
Mixticius, sounding almost fallicious
Survived and alive an kicking
Still misfed, left for dead
Wise and cunning
Still blind and misled
Somewhere between
Somewhere between
Somewhere between
Somewhere between
The oons


Carte Blanche

Arbitrary, feening my own fantasies
With shivers of an ego-type heroine
Feeling profoundly weak
In between downers and prayers I keep
Passive aggressive on fleek
I close myself off, captive I yell
Super beam my thoughts to intro space
Seek the hidden caterpillars
Make them digest all my inner-conflicts
Make hope grow into inner-flowers
So I can blossom to the innermost me


Darker than the blues
Age old black
The moon light shines
Like a dot that is lost
It’s all frost
Bits of bytes that turn
Mega’s into Giga’s
And forget that we all
Come from
Another age
Free from cloudy rains
Be sun stained
Sun Ra

Island man

Island man. Island man. Does whatever on the island can. Skin deep red. Any size. Surfs the reef. Waves on the rise. Look Out! Here comes the island man. Is he strong? Listen bud. He’s got attractive blood. Can he swim from a shark. Or runs away. When dogs bark. Hey, there. There goes the Island man. In the chill of night. At the scene of a crime. Like a peaceful of sign. He arrives just in time. Island man, Island man. Friendly neighborhood. Island man. Wealth and fame. He’s ignored. Irie vibes his reward. To him, life is a great big bang up. Wherever the stress is up. You’ll find the Island man.

Ya dig?

Ya’ll be quoting instagram and twitter
I be spitting home runs like a pinch hitter
Pin it, pin it, pin it on your pinterest channel
I be living in the world like a true mammal
Because the internet is just an enhancer of what truly is
Your true potential, express and manifest it, ya dig?

Monday morning admirer

How did I get to this place? Where my Monday morning breath is a side effect of adderall and alcohol. And night time was too short to remember anything at all. And why do the frosted flakes in this bowl have no taste? And morning news has no weight? The smell of coffee is the only thing keeping me awake. That and the morning sun light piercing my pupils every time I look out the kitchen window.

I see her. She is like the beacon of beauty on the same floor in the flat across the street. I wonder if she ever looked at me. Probably not. She is too busy staring at her phone in the morning while she gobbles down her breakfast. It’s like the phone has something to say her. ‘You have three important appointments today. You have to finish the report by Wednesday. Don’t dress up too sexy, because tonight you have a date with that boring dude from downtown who thinks he’s so cool because he has a big pay check and wants to pay for you all night long. And don’t forget to call mom this week!’

After the convo with her phone she usually disappears only to reappear again with a corporate look. She usually looks of the hook, even though I still prefer her sloppy pyjama pants and braless tank top. Same shit, different week. And still it seems like only yesterday that I had some balls. To cross the playground of the neighbourhood. Go up the miniature rock climbing wall. Ask her if she is afraid. Ask her if she wants to hold my hand as we slide down this journey called life.

I guess I better get prepared to go to work as well.

The insecurities of an open book

It’s funny how people think you’re an open book
Because all you say comes from the heart
All  you say comes from a place they never look
And everything you do is your own
Everything you do actually makes them wanna  bow down
Because their belief is in a limbo dance like Patrick Swayze
Trying to do the lambada but still they accomplish nada
Insecurity, insecurity makes them buy expensive things like prada
Go on expensive trips but never reach never never land
The only way to find youth is to let go
Forget, make mistakes and go back to that picture
Of you, where your clothes were still retro
You did it, it’s possible and they should
But they can’t, they admire you, they hooked
And as soon as you squint they shook
Because your eyes speak to their fears and what they took