Candy

Young and foolish so we were
can you remember
as our eyes greeted with giggles
'Yo boy!?'
screeching in front of me
of your gigantic mountain bike frame
making you appear inferior
on the exterior, definitely an
emperor disguised.

Hazel eyes they were and varnished oak wood brown complexion,
holding shelves of books like competitiveness, complications, confusions,
compliments, discontentments, ambitions, amusements, intelligence... argumentative,
and i read them all eagerly,
repetitively and devoutly
as though you were my religion.

Disputes and bruised ego's
where did it go? I tried to follow
the crumbs it has left behind, leading to a wall of mist
which distracts the train of thoughts to a halt
on the last station, bear and empty.

Wish I didn't throw her number away
I regret missing you
Candy.
Save me from this crushing dismay
i hope to cross your path some day
would you even rememeber me
anyway?

Faithfully yours,
A Lost Friend.


Shaun Gordon aka Donusho 27/10/2010 ©

A stylish feeling.

Uninvited advise descended

to look my sunday's best everyday.

Everyday? That was a triple dare to myself to ask why!

And undeniably it was,

to feel good at the sound

of the shiney mirrored black shoes

upon the pavemment,

as though I was being

a man about his daily business...

Walking towards

the gigantic red bricked building

and shuddering

at the sound of the bell

that resembled thunder.

Staring at everyone singing

those dry high pitched hymns

that became muffled,

in the midst of daydreams

and boredom's torment.

Why did they come here?

I didnt care:

beside inhaling the fresh air

after leaving that cave

was a wonderous relief,

it made me happy revealing little white pearl teeths

Kicking cola cans and scoring goals

with repaired knee patches

from a week ago's, injuries.

My belief's?

In my books having true freedom,

a stylish look.

Shaun Gordon aka Donusho 5/10/2010 ©

Image as seen on: http://www.theurbangent.com/2009/06/stylish-progression-from-boy-to-man.html

A Mental Alley (Mind Music).

A Mental Alley (Mind Music).

I am not into love,
and hugs are Temperamental
In my mind it sounds like heavy metal
oh I love you,
come here and hug me:
I am a 'two-face' schizophrenic.

Only voices I befriend,
choices are past tense
with the intent to make further amends.

Am I cleanse?
Too intense: hot and cold,
handle with care if you dare,
just put me down
where you found me in the first place...
No where.

Are we clear?
maybe so-so,
up and down like a yo-yo
so does that make us such as no-no
like a no-go area,
segregation.

Here we go again:
Confrontations and Arguments,
as i turn my hostility lower,
rewind and play it more softer, sweeter
and most definitely slower
ok, let's make up and get closer.

No fuck you!
Push you away and
erase you like a contact number,
A ghost you become
and haunt me in my slumber,
'til I heat you up like summer,
suffer a fever
and shiver like a cold winter.

Many are the colours.

My reflection of the interactions or conversations,
from the merging nations that builds up more and more
like an overcrowded population,
shouting above each other in gridlock
in a moment of chaos of abstraction.

This is sweet music in my Mind.



Shaun Gordon aka Donusho 31/7/2010 ©

Invisible Life

Please
give me back my eyes? so
I can fly striaght like an arrow
towards my destiny
from the Archer, I...

Busy.

Lonely.

Silence.

Gripping.

Raw.

Truthful.

Exposed an explosion of thoughts and emotions, revealed
times like these, i will shield.
no
I will yield to the after-thoughts
than the present
ones
and unwrap the presence,
an energy so lethal
but without it
would be detrimental to our survival.

Life,
you are a beautiful
so unseemly you teach.
peeling each layers,
unwillingly at times
and none, can claim it as a breach of contract
or privacy.

... am falling without wings
allowing the wind of invisible unclaimed words
to draw me in at such speed unimaginable,

stop.

(I have) got this, this one, caught in the palm of my hand,
the Author.

Bulleye!

Shaun Gordon aka Donusho
29/09/2010 ©

Locked off (Dear Locks)

Locked off (Dear Locks…)

Proceeding with one two three,
Into darkness of uncertainties…

Dear Locks,

You will be dearly missed
Cutting you off was the last thing
I would ever do.
What you meant to me…
Where do I begin.

Since I was seven,
I wanted long hair
My Mother said no
To cornrows, funky dreads
And anything over an inch!
I used to flinch
At going to the barbers
Thinking they were
Cutting a life form away,
Apart of me alive

So
I celebrated my manhood and freedom
and grew my locks,
You reminded me
Of small little maggots to begin with,
Comb twist.

Months grew into years
And you were already shoulder length.
Thick brown and beautiful:
A symbol of strength, determination and
Perseverance.

This look I had was so unique,
apart of me,
I deemed it unimaginable to be parted away from you.
You were like my first and everlasting true love
Because you helped me identify, myself.
You were there through thick and thin.
Only to realise it was only for a season
Where uniqueness is truly and always,
Residing in the heart.

But it’s hard:
As I watched
The blades embraced
And cut you into two, apart.
I can hear you screaming,
Colour-blind as though I were
Watching a black and white film
Day dreaming a nightmare.

Then a humming bird
Whispered in my left ear
‘I am not my hair’, (India Aries)
Making my heart break the day like the sunshine.
So removing you would be like moving the clouds away
Yet I would still like it to rain.


Were we secret lovers having an affair in broad day light?
Tell me, we are not breaking away
Yet, its so evident that we have grown apart.
Proceeding with four, five, six, seven, eight
Its too late,
As you fall like duck feather on the floor.

Self reflection.
Of embracing the new,
Staring like a child unsure
Of what to do.
Dark brown nappy fluff
Candy floss
Exploring the lightness

A new look and freedom.
Cold sharp slick razor
Glides smoothly across
The Atlas of my head
Sheering away the wheats
To reveal dry ground.

A new look and freedom.
What an exploration,
The Liberation.
Of not being caged
Into an appearance
But a living soul,
A fresh wind beautifully packaged within.


Shaun Gordon aka Donusho
07/08/2010 ©

666

666

Brown and burgundy coated
My vision, as I say,
Can I speak to you
In a little more, detail
I dont mean to be rude,
I had some a little, more rum
Water down with coke
Taste so morish.
I am talking about
The 6th day
On the 6th month
Of the 2006 year.
Yeah
When the chain on my brain was broken
And I saw the light
Ironically
After church, prayer meeting,
That summer was the best
As I can hear my Grand-dad telling me
‘How I am so blessed’
Any way
It was evening,
Stamford hill
Yes
Do you know them side?
Wait.
Let me sip a little more
And let the sting
Wet the back of my throat
Dry and cold…
What was I saying again?
Oh
Chasing after disaster
Trying to cool the eruption
Of a volcanic beast
And lava and rocks
Came down
And beat me twice
On the same cheek.
Pulling on my hair
And emptied my bag on the floor
As the Jews
Watched with entertained eyes,
What held me back from taking your head off?
Don’t blame or praise the Angels, and God or gods
Unseen, read about and heard of.
Blame it on me
Not just the fact I didn’t react
Second thought,
I guess that what burned you most!
That I didn’t cast you down to hell
And gloat in my delight as I hear your yells fade.
Praise me on how I told the truth
And it was none of my business in the first place
Yet it was insisted upon…
Yes that right
You accused me
Only to see
That I was in the right
And you were terribly wrong
No need to admit it.
Carry on!
Did you really think I would have
Stay and married you?
And allow you to beat me up silly
To repeat History… and I shall repeat:
His-story!? No your story.
To be honest that was one of my worst fears my dear,
You know?
To become a repetition
Of your forefathers.
Smile I gently, as the lava stings
And hide the pain under my thick skin.
No,
This future is not for me,
Off comes the engagement ring
That was not meant to be
And let it melt in your own ashes and tears.
I didn’t need a sign
Just a kick start, for my mind to tick again
Was I, in a frozen primitive state?
An Ape
Brought back to life to enjoy the modern world
In all its glories and wonders, I wonder,
Oh and I heard all those same old stories
So good fuck, please don’t bore me.
I don’t claim to be perfect
But why
Do you think you are always right?
Hope some things change.

Guess it was god’s will then
To confound the wise on 06/06/2006!
hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha


Excuse me mate,
Another double rum and coke please?
Actually make it two.
A celebration of Life
Without you.



Shaun Gordon aka Donusho 5/9/2010 ©

Your Words Are

Your words don't matter
any more to me

Your words will fade
into the abyss
and rots there,
where it belongs.

I am not angry,
rather calm and collective
your audacity wants me
to react like someone
who has epilepsy.

Your vocabulary and sound
can not be mixed
like oil and water.
so,
drip off my Goretex jacket
Bribe and Confusion.

My ear waxs detects your manipulation
interrogation
condemnation
judgemental spat
mood swing song's
and above all
Hypocrisies.

I have no burden strapped
because it was packed
and sent away to Disney land
as though it never existed.

Your music has vanished
because i broke the vinyl's,
Sounds of a broken record
reminded me of a spoilt child.


The last straw, a crumpled, half torn photo of you.
Memory lane can remain a stain,
washed out with bleach,
forgotten.
so dont you ever come near me
and preach!

Damn blood sucking leech!



Shaun Gordon aka Donusho 5/9/2010 ©