[Poem] If We Had It

We heard the sounds call out
they came from the night
-screams, scratches, shrills
and ghost-like whisper winds

we were growing impatient
our hearts yawned like sighs
and died down like flames
in the morning

      after the rain

we chewed our fingers
like cherry rosaries
it was never our intention
the angst lived on
they put up with the pretension-
the rise of incessant deception

and we were scared
for a while            at least
on the backs of our phobias
in the heart of our minds
losing it
losing enough of it

to know

we didn't have it all

©RaeezJacobs. 2013. Poetry

[POEM] bangle Theory

-my decrepit state is an art form, and 
I will always allow myself colour; 
Bursts of laughter, toasts, 
Sex, and hope, in all that would come afterwards. 
I couldn't always cling to it, 
They say, the hands of a poet 
Is numbed, 
When the bangles of misery 
Begin wrapping themselves 
'Round the tattooed arms of youth. 
I still seek the truth, 
And lend myself to his jargon- 
Pretending to understand, 
Pretending to know; 
Keeping up the appearance, of someone 
Whose eyes, have a view of their head, 
While really, I know so little, 
That my bones crack whenever 
Knowledge jumps at me, 
From the pages of his biography. 
And secretly, I buck violently- 
Corner-to-corner, like a stone 
Underneath a floor, trembling by some vibration. 
And sometimes I even cry more than 
An appalled god, whose hair 
Was cut by his angels; whose followers 
Turned their heads, 
Whose heaven suddenly 
Became so earth, he had to stoop. 
I was a child of his parenthood, 
Taking baby steps, 
And tryin'a convince myself 
That, I will supersede 
The bangles of misery, 
By turning my tears into art.
         
                                                                  -Raeez Jacobs

© Raeez Jacobs. 2012.