Tag: Poetry
2.am
living in this paradox of mobility and immobility.
watching hours turn into days,
days into months,
months into years,
years into lifetimes,
diluted into an infinity of others that existed before us
as we stayed silent in these corrugated lines
living on the margins of timelines
that cut through rationality
with thin blades piercing
as we found ourselves
asking if this is
living
at all
© Hudson Biko
Photograph by Tim Trad
meaning
found drowning in created connotations
that lived in the shadows
held by
perceived permutations
where nights
protected by cold sheets
gave way to even colder mornings
as i lay
waiting for meaning in moments
like these
never finding it in I
or the eyes
that stared back
maybe now i do
© Hudson Biko
Memories
Memories hang at the precipice of nightfall
Each somewhat held by familiar voices
That crack at the echos
And dissipate across galaxies
Struggling to hold
on to the fallacies
we fed ourselves
as each finger was greased
by midnight oil
And encouraged to let go
Encouraged to b r e a k
Because parts of us already did
Because
Parts of us
hanged at the precipice for a little to long
Because
Parts of us struggled to get full on to the fallacies we fed ourselves
Because
Parts of us
Weren’t us
And
they never will be.
© Hudson Biko
Photograph: Sharon Christina
Do Things At Your Own Time
I think that sometimes we forget
That we aren’t meant to be anywhere.
That our lives don’t have deadlines or regulations.
That at this very moment,
We are formulating and experiencing our own distinct journeys.
Journeys that aren’t regulated or paralleled by pre-conceived expectations
But by our own doing.
Exactly when we need to.
© Hudson Biko
Photograph by Quino Al
- Picked and edited from an earlier essay I wrote and came across today. 💫❤️
hudson biko 