My first official collection of poems, falling boy, has arrived. The link below will lead you to the poetic promise land. Please tell a friend to tell a friend to tell a friend. It’s out on Amazon, Amazon Kindle, and Okadabooks. Thank you.
Here’s the magic link: https://linktr.ee/tomilade
Dead people don’t say nothing
This is a lie, they be talking all the time,
Like the narrator of sad film
Who be yapping when the characters be doing things
Dead people don’t just die
They disappear into nothing
From nothing to something
To nothing again
But they be talking all the time,
Reminding you of their softness
And the stories only dem fit corroborate
They be teaching you things, if you listen
How to make hay
And do a stitch before Sun sleeps
And how not to run into swamp
They be reappearing
And making you sad
And be teaching you things
Hey everyone, there you have it. The final bit of poetry on this website. It was partly inspired by Marlon James’ A Brief History of Seven Killings. The syntax of the poem is based on the cadence of one the book’s characters
I have to say the biggest thank you for sticking with me through the changes in name (poetryispeace, remember?) and appearance. For enduring the many cringeworthy poems and prose and for liking and commenting on the good ones too. This place has often been my catharsis and I have formed a few friendships and many acquaintances in the process. Thank you, thank you, thank you!
- The website will stay up (till I change my mind)
- When the time is right, I’ll provide the link(s) to my new abodes on these internet streets.
- I may or may not revamp or move this site, modifying it to include other bits of my life outside of writing. (This goodbye may prove to be short).
Again, thank you!
children went there to play
to do children things
their parents came to pray,
and do parent things.
parent things like endless
after-church banter. gossip too.
the fire. it burnt the altar
the fire. it altered our lives
it burnt the offerings
it offered burnt offerings
to satan. to waste. to nothing.
the church burnt
the parents prayed at home
and did parent things. like working.
and what not. and stuff.
and the children found a mosque
a mosque to play,
and do children things
like turning benches to cars
and playing catch
like they did
before I lit the match.
the match that
brought the church down..
I swear it was a mistake.
I was 5 years old.