Tuesday, March 28, 2017

The Heart's Poetry: All We're Made Of




All We’re Made Of

Remnants of dreams nailed together, that’s all we’re made of, you and I



Purposeful insinuations led us to miscalculations, of arbitrary inclinations, and incidental revelations



Bits of truth and hunks of lies are all we’re made of, you and I



Late admission, stale contrition, locked us in a sore condition



Dried up roses, faded rings, piles of dust and wooden things; they’re all we’re made of, you and I



They’re all we’re made of; you should cry



Summer rains and autumn snows, winter floods and withered springs



Contradictions, suppositions, lingering pangs of old addictions



Spirit wounds and tragedies, weighty guilt and miseries



They’re all we’re made of, you and I



That’s all we’re made of; now we cry
© 2009-2012 Raheema Muhammad

Tuesday, March 21, 2017

The Heart's Poetry: Choked by You



Choked by You

It’s so easy to get caught up and forget you’re not the reason I live



Between the catering and adoration, I simply can’t find the space for me



Every breath I breathe is choked full of you, and I’m feeling so high off your thick, toxic fumes



I do not recall a time being sober, being trapped in a life oppressive, mundane



You’ve spoiled all my heart, have wormed your way through



You’ve made dull my sense, and stuffed me with you



What’s real or is fake, I can’t hope to know



But to you, not them, my feet surely go
© 2009-2012 Raheema Muhammad

Tuesday, March 14, 2017

The Heart's Poetry: Rick the Man



Rick the Man

He’s an old kind of love, the kind you never do expect

A kind so subtle, so sublime, you scarcely feel it when you fall



He’s a strange kind of beauty, not so fresh, and not so young

A kind enduring through the age, apparent even to the blind



He’s a heady kind of rush that slows your movement, makes you blush

Makes you feel all kinds of dizzy as he melts you deep inside



He’s a natural kind of lust, a seasoned hand you’re quick to trust



An easy calm within a storm, a radiant flame of passion born



He’s an ancient kind of gleam, a classic sculpture of a dream



A jewel for weary, wandering eyes, which dust and time cannot disguise
© 2009-2012 Raheema Muhammad

Tuesday, March 7, 2017

The Heart's Poetry: In and Out of Love



In and Out of Love

Last night I dreamt of you, and I woke up nauseous, lying the midst of what was, at best, a poor substitute for all that might have been



This morning I felt for you, everything I wished to conveniently feel for him, but could not, and would not, for all of his plain affections



That afternoon I sought for you, as I could think of nothing smarter to do



Or dumber as the case may be, for wiser lambs would surely flee



That eve I finally spoke to you, and all my heart came bursting through



My aching chest was set aflame as in my ear you breathed my name



Last night I gave the world to you, but when I woke you ran me through



You said your love has been and gone, and told me leave you thus alone
© 2009-2012 Raheema Muhammad