GEORGEViLLE

I have carried the load of mixed signals Been bruised swimming against the unsteady tides in their lake And for this I bear a scar to remind me Words I adore and heed to when said by mouth I practice today the ingenious lazy stoic art of feigning blindness to all forms of sign language I will miss the point when you suggest marriage by tidying my nest and leaving your pearl earrings on my night stand I will saunter by clue-less when a blushing you,  guided by your wisdom, giggle and wink at me, expecting me to guess I will stare in vain surprise at the silent treatment For silence is easily misinterpreted not misquoted Infact, a sorely tale sings of how, in a sour twist of signal blending I once mistook concealed love-filled coyness for mockful disdain And mined scorn once the care fermented stale into bitterness So I beseech you to say what ought to be said For in showing, a lot is lost in the loud colours of the busy backdrop It is recklessl

Besides that hard concrete pavement, where the new city flowers thrive They collected what was left of her, packed in a blood dripping black plastic body bag Hurriedly bundled onto a garbage truck so as not to stain the freshly washed police van The tarmac was hard scrubbed to wipe away her obliterated beauty 48 hours after her thick red blood had seeped through the light layers Into the earth’s eager open mouth The drunk motorist who had transformed her into a road kill statistic was on the wrong road side when he swept her off her feet Always having lived by the narrow right path, her end echoed her school years often punished with the naughty despite pleas of innocence, Death had fetched and defiled her from the right side of the road that scorching hot Tuesday evening Death had caught her in a hurry, back from church counselling Rushing to her son’s school to collect the child, bearing news for him elated at the news that he would soon have a sister