Tug of Peace

Peace
It’s a tug of peace

when you’re content
with no release;
you’ve lost total interest in
relearning what love is.

It’s a tug of peace
when you’re stuck in 
a state of painful bliss,
and you dread the old game
of ‘I’m sorry’ and ‘please.’

Tug of Peace

It’s a tug of peace
when you can’t and
would rather not see,
and instead of trying,
you find comfort in dis-ease.

It’s a tug of peace
when you’re a fire rat
but you hiss at cheese;
you don’t take classes
but you pay the fees.

It’s a tug of peace
when you barely grow
but rapidly increase.
You’re scared of life,
buying 0 at 24 apiece.


Sir Paul McCartney’s ‘Tug of Peace’ goes:
No no, your troubles cease when you learn to play the pipes of peace
It’s a tug of war
No no, your troubles cease when you learn to play the pipes of peace
What with one thing and another
it’s a tug of war
No no no no

It’s a tug of war
No no, your troubles cease when you learn to play the pipes of peace
It’s a tug of war
Learn to play the pipes of peace
Pushing, pushing
Pulling, pulling
Pushing, pulling

Madiba and My Grandma

The Blue Room

‘The Blue Room’ by Mona Edulesco

I saw my late grandma in my dream today, Tuesday, March 24, 2020.

I was slightly uneasy at first, nervous perhaps. I found myself in my grandmother’s room—the one she used till the time of her death. Her bed was gone, and the room seemed more spacious than it used to be. There was a smaller bed in it, what seemed like a twin-sized bed with a white bedspread on it—I don’t think it was fully white. It seemed like I was trying to sleep on the bed, or sit on it properly, when Madiba (Nelson Mandela) came in. 

I ran to hug him, and I was very happy to see him. I clearly remember how it felt—very warm and comforting. My paternal grandma came in almost immediately after. She looked a bit different, maybe taller than she would have been at the time of her death since I did not see her months before. Her hair was covered, and I don’t clearly remember hugging her, but I was so excited to see her, to see them both. 

I woke up right after and faced the wall to my left, asking Archangel Michael to protect my body because I was in a vulnerable state. I may have been slightly scared as I did. Then I went right back to sleep.

Perhaps, Madiba and my grandmother are companions or members of the same soul group in spirit. My grandmother was Nigerian, and Madiba was South African. They never met in their recent incarnations (as Madiba and Bolanle) and I never met Madiba, so it’s pretty exciting.

I suppose ancestors are checking on and comforting those with active earthly incarnations because of the apparent fears/concerns that abound at this time. 

The Killer Queen

Queen

Our lives have drastically changed, 
now that La Corona has been enthroned.
Fearsome, terrible, and sleek,
waving as she casts her deadly spell,
all wail her royal highness, the queen of hell.

Some claim she pities children,
only harming a handful so far,
and that she is the opposite of colour-blind,
first attacking bodies with a lighter hue,
with plans to make those with darker ones blue.

La Manifique engages in a coquettish March,
striding as she takes many breaths away.

Whenever she pays her subjects royal visits,
she lights feverish fires inside them,
and in her presence, all lung-curses stem.

She makes prison cells of bodies and homes,
exciting and depressing, nothing in-between,
and in our daily bid to succeed her throne,
we pray that God takes the queen
and approves our desperate win.

Are You There?

Lonely

‘Lonely’ by Sangeetha Bansal

Tell me, whisper it,
I’m aching to know,
is it a yes
or a definite no?
Find me in my dreams
and make it known,
’cause I think of you far more
than I have carefully shown.

Do you still think of me
now that there’s no tomorrow,
when ‘we’ means absolutely nothing
and memories bring painful sorrow?

Do you still love me
now that you cannot stand me,
’cause we don’t talk to each other anymore,
about as distant as we can be?

Do you still hold me,
now that I’m out of your reach,
and our vow to love each other 
has come to a ghastly breach?

Do I still matter
now that you have a wife,
and old things have passed away,
and you love your new life?

If you tell me in my dreams,
I’ll know if it’s true,
and if you say it’s a no,
I won’t feel so blue.
I miss you and love you,
and although I’ve grown,
if you say it’s a yes,
I won’t feel so alone.

For My Lady

Free Julian ‘Innocent’ Assange

Julian Assange

The USA must drop the charges against Julian Assange now! Stop hurting him, God damn! Julian has done nothing wrong by utilitarian, common-sense standards, which comes before any other, especially the haphazard decisions of a select few- otherwise known as ‘the powers that were.’

Common sense, justice, and truth should be regarded as supreme, regardless of the fear of anything- the apparent worst being death, greed, and myopia.

Websites: https://wikileaks.org/
https://defend.wikileaks.org/

Twitter:
Wikileaks: https://twitter.com/wikileaks

GoFundMe:
https://www.gofundme.com/f/save-my-son-julian?utm_source=twitter&utm_medium=social&utm_campaign=p_cp+share-sheet