The November Journey

From October to December

Autumn to winter

Wetness to dryness

Or better still coldest

Past to future

Young to old

A lot could happen

Because in between the 2

There is a November

A transition to a decision

Before it finally happens

The only gray area

Between the much dreaded black

And the more favoured white

Whether race or tribe

Whether colour or background

Whether fake or real

There is still that thin line

Which will separate the 2 sides

The thin line of decision

Which has several descriptions

But only one meaning

It could be lively or deadly

Hopeful or hopeless

Joyful or sorrowful

Or better still mixed feelings

But it represents 2 sides of a coin

That part that could never stand on its own

It brings both sides together

Wherever it gets to

It’s the wall or let’s say fence

On which most people would like to sit

Some prefer to be in the middle of the road

Forgetting one important thing

That they could get hit by traffic

That is coming from both directions

But if only you don’t rush into decisions

As early as October

And thrash out any indecisions

By the middle of November

Then you’ll remove all your delusions

And be rid of every confusion

For when the cold nights set in

Whether winter or harmattan
Or yet still the cold rains of spring

Then you’ll be prepared

To change the course of your destiny

For as the days unfold

And the Christmas story is told

There will be so many things to hold

And other things to make you bold

Else if all your things are sold

There will be nothing to behold

Then the sparkling eyes of gold

Will appear in a cold

And put you in a mould

And shape and reform you

Then you would remember

What really happened in October

Has been transformed to

For when the journey started in October

It really made did make you sober

But now we you are prepared forever

 And forward you forever go.

CopyRight Peekay

07/11/13

From October to December

Autumn to winter

Wetness to dryness

Or better still coldest

Past to future

Young to old

A lot could happen

Because in between the 2

There is a November

A transition to a decision

Before it finally happens

The only gray area

Between the much dreaded black

And the more favoured white

Whether race or tribe

Whether colour or background

Whether fake or real

There is still that thin line

Which will separate the 2 sides

The thin line of decision

Which has several descriptions

But only one meaning

It could be lively or deadly

Hopeful or hopeless

Joyful or sorrowful

Or better still mixed feelings

But it represents 2 sides of a coin

That part that could never stand on its own

It brings both sides together

Wherever it gets to

It’s the wall or let’s say fence

On which most people would like to sit

Some prefer to be in the middle of the road

Forgetting one important thing

That they could get hit by traffic

That is coming from both directions

But if only you don’t rush into decisions

As early as October

And thrash out any indecisions

By the middle of November

Then you’ll remove all your delusions

And be rid of every confusion

For when the cold nights set in

Whether winter or harmattan
Or yet still the cold rains of spring

Then you’ll be prepared

To change the course of your destiny

For as the days unfold

And the Christmas story is told

There will be so many things to hold

And other things to make you bold

Else if all your things are sold

There will be nothing to behold

Then the sparkling eyes of gold

Will appear in a cold

And put you in a mould

And shape and reform you

Then you would remember

What really happened in October

Has been transformed to

For when the journey started in October

It really made did make you sober

But now we you are prepared forever

 And forward you forever go.

From October to December

Autumn to winter

Wetness to dryness

Or better still coldest

Past to future

Young to old

A lot could happen

Because in between the 2

There is a November

A transition to a decision

Before it finally happens

The only gray area

Between the much dreaded black

And the more favoured white

Whether race or tribe

Whether colour or background

Whether fake or real

There is still that thin line

Which will separate the 2 sides

The thin line of decision

Which has several descriptions

But only one meaning

It could be lively or deadly

Hopeful or hopeless

Joyful or sorrowful

Or better still mixed feelings

But it represents 2 sides of a coin

That part that could never stand on its own

It brings both sides together

Wherever it gets to

It’s the wall or let’s say fence

On which most people would like to sit

Some prefer to be in the middle of the road

Forgetting one important thing

That they could get hit by traffic

That is coming from both directions

But if only you don’t rush into decisions

As early as October

And thrash out any indecisions

By the middle of November

Then you’ll remove all your delusions

And be rid of every confusion

For when the cold nights set in

Whether winter or harmattan
Or yet still the cold rains of spring

Then you’ll be prepared

To change the course of your destiny

For as the days unfold

And the Christmas story is told

There will be so many things to hold

And other things to make you bold

Else if all your things are sold

There will be nothing to behold

Then the sparkling eyes of gold

Will appear in a cold

And put you in a mould

And shape and reform you

Then you would remember

What really happened in October

Has been transformed to

For when the journey started in October

It really made did make you sober

But now we you are prepared forever

 And forward you forever go.

CopyRight 

I’m coming home

A time in between time
A place in between places
A life in between lives
A thought in between thoughts

The sojourn of a watchman
To a land of strange men
Not only men but very beautiful women
In a quest to be a better man

Guns and roses
Tuxes and poses
The outside cool and cozy
The inside warm and mouldy

A place so far
Yet quite near
An alien in foreign land
Yet still in the land of my birth

Strange things happen
Even with less words spoken
All you need is a token
In order to spark something

The attention and affection
The retention and detention
The obsession and rejection
The subjugation and suppression

The stories need to be told
Because of the memories I now hold
For my conscience cannot be bought
In this young life I now try to mould

The thoughts keep flooding
The memories keep flowing
The emotions keep rising
And my pen keeps writing

Who will tell the story?
Who will bell the cat?
Who will sing the song
And not be sorry?

The story is about ended
Even before it began
‘Cos we know how it ends
Even before it started

If he tells
It will become history
If I keep quiet
It will remain a mystery
But some way some how
It would manage to sprout
And if the memories don’t bring joy
Then they’ll definitely bring tears

But till then
I’ll look forward to that date
Where I’ll meet that one on that shore
Not the one in the world beyond
But she in whose embrace I belong


Peekay
11/10/13