Christian Mowarin

afrik are animation-

poetry playbook 12

afrik a

Get away from

My window pane

Move, old soul

With all your pains

Social at your own

Intellect speed

Your heals in head

Knock all down hills

Everything your way

Away your creativity.....

Your own role

Mad away from my sleep

Far away in no sync

Die in daily dream

Walk on every water

Clinch the tallest tree

Make your own song

With all your act

Play in your own

Morbid generation

It doesn't matter

One case in earnest

You are just a wind

A mindset, a figment

A role, a liquid soul

christian mowarin

For my mother, Clara

an oxygen paperback

July 2011

Am a genius with a curious

and genuine consciousness

A hateful ability to harness rites

Am calling you in spirit light

Begging your rights in

unique and creative standards

In relative approach you know

With a child-like enthusiasm

I know the current perspective

And I know the incumbent innocence

I bent them myself in my

tribulations

So you won't get troubled

In the metaphors of trusted

hearts

christian mowarin

follow the red gourd

If you wake upFeeling reluctantly dizzyWith insanity screamingUnscripted thoughtsUp in your hairAnd your head explodingBit by bit by bitFollow the red gourd

If the morning coldIs curling up your sleeveAnd the daylight tooBright for your eyesYour spirit don't let goHolding hand with your loverSqueezing tight and tighterFollow the red gourd Your friend comesAround and meets you roundGives you a little roll kickAnd the rain comes backFrom the night beforeTo tell to stay at homeSo you wont go baobabFollow the red gourd

An orangutan danceAway in cool energyExtra wide and intoxicatingPuts all your dreams inOne empty basketfor the malady to filter throughWaiting and waiting and waitingFollow the red gourd

land of a certain sun

The long arm of the hour Hits a mile longer than necessary The shadows deep enoughBranded by indefatigable switchTrailing through the wildCircumstantial in remuneration The devil in practiced performanceOf revolutionary ancient reliefMade pale by constanceIrritated by notional messages

Soon the women silhouettesPilfered by orangutan sunsetBegan to appear radicallyRazed by burnt umber utterancesDays over from the nascentSpirit infested udimili tall riverWith it's longitudinal tributaries Like a fulcrum of archipelagosUndulating in lighting speedFor any one who dare walk

The sun maneuvering it's wayClumsily towards the dead eastSinking fast among molten hazeLazily covered by burning cloud Rain sold and really imminent Time plays imaginary lessonsOn the end road to sunsetOn the way to an ancient salvationMade open by black kind

voices of a plateau

It's done, theDaily plagueStretched like aSymphony headerPlayed in daylightAristocratic crazeSet in semi-aridHuman vertical spaceAnd of paragraphsOf satanic versesKept reservedFor generationsTo rekindleTo mock the newAnd lost holy warsThe book of prophetsBut not a voiceOf mediaeval santityArmed ArmageddonDressed up as crusadersIn nocturnal energyOn a table of rockTagged in sedimentsIn the earthly hoursBefore the cock To re createA life in afterlifeWith blades of steelIn a street of stiltIn greed of human saltIn molten lava

a million descent

The Valley of the deadHolds the conspicuous abodeStaged like an eighteen centuryHome to a million descentGarden once manicuredThe new armoires faithAn effervescence of a hope

Against the colloquial dietyMarshes in rustic destitutionMade to stay so wellWorld in modest wonderA magic from the ashesOf a full boned and hecticBlood painted art of shrines

There is no unimagined None whatsoever to venture onOld blood already shedNew Knowledge acknowledgedGory nature of age longNo time shall never bring us backHoly battle with the gods to wage

Reconstruction, the

It will not Lift your heartCompletely nor Reconstruct youFrom the rain of painAnd the sold panic of a picnic technicBut the latentSplines it draws

The calm clay On which it rests.Raw pollen power Bring wrath of the godsTo mend the stakesStill wild, wandering.So you won't roamSo true religionThe future retrogressivelyWritten in noon hue Satanic coronation

You shiverIn the new dew,Down by the day documentaries Seek a shelter these ambiguity Because you resonate nativelyA gentle market callingMother nature warmthDay just stretched You know the harmattan Something you hold is brokenTogether we would driftThrough it all nd fix you

heavy heart

Shadow moppetsA dance of delinquentShallow soliloquyIn quizzical quietness Like stillness of heartsAnd life grown signageMade gains in grainsHands against wallsIn halls again this timeWhere would you go For dire wisdomAnd challenges of fate

The clan wars ragesOld Brothers in armsBad blood dialectsIn plain proposalsWar time heroesIn time storiesInvocations votingIn regular regionsDown by the raidsHell so close, soLetting loose

Prayers in Plural dictionsSaint Matthew too newKingmakers with crownOriginated from liesTold to lineages of longMedian mending principlesIn disorderly slantSlaying all who listensIt's the end of the worldAs we all know it

twilight rain

Run away in railYou oil of resistance With the rest calmCameras in disarrayAn array on thoughtsThought of you nowDancing in the coldSilver of twilight rain

Your move in shireManifests of an eveningEnveloped in consequence Conscience in phonyRace of cacophony How do you blend?With your mind so farAnd so mended fromThe antics of noon time

Fusion formationAs proprietary toolsTaking rudimentary shapeAs ape of this a new jungleAs app in new digitalDimensions dating backTo time when minds workIn weak lineagePainted in retro in motionWith commotion in motion

liquid soul

Get away from My window paneI just worked itMove, old soulAnd take your coldHold it closeWith all your painsSocial at your ownIntellectual speedYour heals in headKnock all down hillEverything you seeIt's your creativityYour whole margin

Your own role

Mad away from my sleep Far away in no syncDie in daily dreamWalk on every waterClinch the tallest treeMake your own songWith all your actPlay in your own theatreYour own utter geneYour morbid generationIt so doesn't matterOne case in earnestYou are just a windA mindset, a figmentA role, a liquid soul

dancing alone

It comes likeA machine, theStrike or strike offsBrain stingsIn stinksInstinctsViolet detectivesFinding paths Territories of deadTrajectories of lifeNative symphonies Coming togetherA move in sanityInsanitySpirit of revoltIn reverb voltagesBlack wingsSwarming downIn large wrongsThe dead runningIn orangutan orchestraPlaying extrawidePraying dreamsAbnormal realmsIn reciprocal maladiesWaiting like thisYou need somethingThings on life's gripHeaven closerThe sky game over

this mad beauty of mine

This mad beauty in meSometimes I wonderDare to ask onceThis madness in beautifulHues leads me nowhereLeads me to rebirthNor consultationOnly humiliationThis mad beautyI intend to rub offWith a new colorTo fade away in times

This mad beautyStuck so much in meWorks not for mePaints not my newsRenders me in greysNot in brillianceOf cool blues or cluesThis made beautyI intend to rub offWith a new charcoalTo black away in night

scents of an

african spell

The setting sun slowlyGlide past as the rays moveThe shadows in my roomIt's map corrugates my finger'sFurrow as it's violet rayPunched warmth in my reection

Been aging there a whileNear the open yet closed shuttersBeen dying slowly since that dayPondering why I had to remain unattendedWhat is it this world have turnedWhat is this paradise slave landscape

Could it be the day have castAn irrevocable spell on my genreWith the pulmonary thongs piecing throughWith hopes and beams of an upturned beginningEnchanted encapsulated in burnt dimensions?

Night life burns slowlyIs he coming to bring the lightOr is he coming to take the lifeThe magic wand, the oneThe energies that will power usThe living spirits that will guide usThe sons of the noble ancestors

Notes

Notes

Notes