Friday, 22 July 2016

#PoemTuesday : Mirrors by Wayne Samuel

So after a long day at work I was walking through the market. 
Like a tragedy or sad event I couldn't wait to get past it.

Cos you know how the market is, it's nasty.

So I was walking fastly, vastly aware of the the marketers selling their wares, they harassed me, with unhygienic nightmares, I thought to myself, I GATS be outta here.

And in my haste, there came a girl on my left.
She tugged at my vest, she was flustered and stressed with her nose at my neck she said
She was stranded, with no money to go where she needed to be, and usually these sorta requests get a big no no from me,
I tell em I no get the money.

And this time wasn't any different, I gave her some excuse to show my dissent, and she walked away so decent.

She walked away so rejected and I ran after her.
I asked her how much would the fare cost.
Then I gave her the exact currency of her words.

At once we went our separate ways and I began to ask myself, what did I see? What prompted me to act so differently, was it the, voluptuousness of her chest beneath the modestness of her shirt?

Was it, she was a damsel in distress, or was I just thinking about her sex?
Nevertheless I must have seen something in her eyes, I must have heard it in her voice. Something that resonated in me a more charitable choice.

And this was no toss of coins, more than a game of heads and tails, this was more than a mans ostensible attraction to females. The truth was in the details. The truth was in perception.

Because upon my reflection I began to see,it wasn't so much what I saw in her that mattered, but rather, what she saw in me.

Wearing my blue tees, black shoes,
Red pants, a bag whose
Left hand, hangs loose.

But what did she see? Cos I was just as stressed, in fact if you could look in my head I was sorta vexed.

Yet she took a chance on me, did she pick me randomly, was I just another man to be, propositioned?

Or was my jaw properly positioned?
Eyes dark but wide,
Lips shut so tenderly
That only good could reside, in my words.
What were her thoughts?

Why did she perceive me to be, a good Samaritan.
When a policeman with a baton, a potbelly and a scowl
Would think I was a drug dealer with medicine from Moscow.
He would see how
My bag was so conspicuously on my .
He would suspect that somewhere on my body I had a tat.
Suspect that somewhere in my house I have a lap.

Top, I use to do Yahoo against a back
Drop of voodoo, he would falsely accuse
Me and falsely arrest me and ask for bribe.
Because everyone believes that their eyes never lie.

Everyone believes that eyes decides beauty,
That eyes they are, windows to soul.
But then people's eyelashes become teeth, they chew and swallow you whole.

Whatever they vomit, that is your person, your role.
And different eyes have different tastes, 
And it starts to take its toll.

Cos these eyes, they tell you, you look young, they tell you you look old.
They tell you, you're no longer pretty, they tell you you're hot as coal,

They tell you that you're skinny, they tell you you're a fatso, and they'll have you thinking hmmm, is that so?

All these opinions can really be a hassle.
Cos we are all of us wicked Kings and Queen's in our enchanted castles,

Saying, mirror, mirror, on the wall
Who am I?
What am I?

We've put so much definition in that word, 
so many Eyes, 7.5 billion in the world 
That's 7.5 mirrors and it's too hard to ignore your reflection.

Cos we are all of us on an assembly ground of life, waiting for an inspection.
But in the end it's always in vain, like an injection.
Because people would always see what they want you to be.

Just like the girl at the market and me.
In her eyes I was a hero, so that's exactly what I became.
If what she saw instead was a zero, I'd probably be the same.

And that sorta living, causes so much pain.
Cos the eye lashes us with its definition of beauty.
The eye shadows us from what we are truly,
The eye browses us and whatever the Google result is, is what we would be.

I guess that's why there are pupils in the eye we are supposed to teach them how to lie.
Truly to ourselves and everybody else, that ever comes before us.

And really, poor us.
Cos we keep coming back to peoples opinion of us like a chorus
And we are just the verses.

It kind of reminds me of Genesis and man's exit from the garden of Eden.

It kind of reminds me of Adam and Eve when 
They hid themselves from God 
Because their eyes were open and they saw,
that they were naked.

I guess I'm standing here to say that,
Who told you you were naked?
Who told you were weak?
Who told you you were vacant, 
Empty and bleak?
Who told you that a mirror and whatever you see in it
Is true?

Cos if that's what you believe in,
That seeing is believing,
Then whatever is your garden of Eden,
You would soon, be, leaving.

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