The sounds
of makeshift drums
bellow
in a background
made of mellow
spaces
and mazes
of paths pervaded
by everything somehow simultaneously
desired and already had.
( lost in spaces of mellow )
© Hudson Biko
Photograph: Nathan Anderson
Tag: Poetry
Little Things
On mornings like these
when trees sway
and give way
to chirping birds
as herds
of ants
scatter across grass
glimmering in
morning dew
I realize
that maybe
( just maybe )
these little things
are enough
That little
is only as little
as we allow it to be
And I’m learning to be okay with that
© Hudson Biko
Photograph: Tanja Heffner
Hey there! Thank you for reading that. 😊 I’m currently away for a little bit so I may not be able to respond to your comments or messages but I look forward to reading them when I get back!
❤️
Biko
Light
Consciousness
sinking
sinking
sinking
sank
blissfully
underneath blankets
and blank eyes
thirsting for sovereignty
after living
five feet above ground
in worlds
filled by empty words
and broken ideality
Subconsciousness
collapsing
as
vibrations
forge their
way in pulses
through
still air
Reality
slowly brought
to actuality
Erasing
fragments
of brief
escape
created
prior to
7.34 am
–
Gates opened
Eyes blank
Floating
© Hudson Biko
Dark
The room was dark.
Sweat poured
from pores
to heart
to skin
to sheets
that held
houses drowning
in pools
of fear
collected from
racing hearts
held stagnant
and hurt
from abandoned
identities
and created
fallacies
of hope
As i watched those
that dared to leave
so they could live
run and
run and
run
in to unlit rooms
of 5.31 AM
–
Morning
© Hudson Biko
Photograph by Alieza Rizvie
Clockwork
Eyelids flicker
as rotating
hands
as giant as
ants blow
unfathomed
possibilities
held
in revolving
days I watch
dissipate
from
maelstroms
of
insouciant
realities
i call
“Could have beens”
disappear into
realms
of regret
i keep holding on to
when they were
never mine to begin with
and i cant stop them
© Hudson Biko
Photograph: Ioana Casapu
hudson biko 