Heartbreaker

Beautiful, unique, smart but covered in the midst of artistry Loving caring a heart performer

Her Heart was outward organ so when it loved you felt every beat

When it hurt it bleed and was torn laceration deep

For years sustained heavy 

Mistreatment 

Every scar creating thicker skin but her heart was an outside organ

So coverage of GBH 

Was only every seen battery 

Built…

Just to love and let one in 

Betrayed and bludgeoned

To lies and deceit 

Cared for temporarily to feel the same feat

How does one leave the byproduct of neglect and negativity 
Screams from her mind control her emotional state of mind 

Powerful and destructive of any weakness shown
But yet her love bleeds 

Instead of pouring it’s sweet essence into another more worthy 

She proceeds to recover

Knowing there’s hope in this

“If there is?…”

“It better come quick”

Years of turmoil uncertainty it’s not just about the kids 

Love him tender love him sweet

Is all she does but it’s never enough for him to see
How her love here bleeds

Waiting to fill his cup 

Waiting praying 

God please intercede 

Only you know what we need 

Provide us with the wisdom and understanding to give each other what we need 

As two hearts long to be happy consistently 

Eternal Happiness…

Happiness is a figment of the imagination Tends to arrive on its own agenda

To any destination

Paralysed by its fulfilment and anticipation 

Happiness is like a gradient it dips and climbs

At the sign of a good or bad occasion

Joy on the other hand has a persistence that happiness could not fathom nor compare

But the thing with Joy 

Once it’s there it should remain

But along comes pain and breaks up my Love affair with joy
Questioning my happiness

Dipping in and out sadness

To the point I have replaced my joy with gladness and contentment 

Which I like but disagree to be complacent 

I’m riddling with feelings

Figments of the imagination 

Designed to categorise the places our voyage of life takes us
Happiness and I have mutual understanding 

We don’t really mix 

So we embrace each other 

When other guest like 

Love and joy come into the mix

Joy is my gain as well as my pain 

Life tends to play these sort of games
DWordChef

2015-08-03 

When Life is A Fallacy

Refreshing

Depressing over a year of

No reflecting

On life’s charms and blessings

On life’s “perfect” turns into repression 

Previewing screenshots

Of potential places where a moments reflection

Maybe have been the best form of progression

Elevated to life’s struggles 

Instead of deflated to dreams falsified message

Living in limbo with unachievable activities isn’t the worst thing…is it?

Waking up to visions of fallacy 

That are tangible 

Because I, We, She, He dared to believed 

That 9-5s, 6-2s, 5-9s are possibly forms of fallacy…

This Makes No Sense

Simplistic, Pessimistic, Confused, Deluded, Misconstrued, Misunderstood

Alleviated, Exaggerated, Perplexed, Removed, Unused, Abused, Misunderstood

 

Words that I remove from the pockets of the many hands that pluck my brain

Branded in smiles, selflessness and retracted gain

I do write words of deluded form that just nimbly subtract themselves from 

What I confuse myself with everyday

I write this in hope, that it makes sense 

Because as perplexed frowns 

Endow my plain glare with pessimism

Once filled with optimism and defiant courage

I look on life with destain

I write words no I type words with devices,

Slaps ones self,

Who writes anymore

Simplistic ways,

With no need to write 60 words in a minute

To make sure I make the grade

 

Just the simple, artistic act, that my self-efficacy crave 

And my personality would thrive on as I decorated the page

Writing with loops and curves mixing fonts and texts because it was the way my mind would 

Convey, it all on a simple lined page.

 

‘Miss I finished’ Without proper use of the English language I was learning at this tender age.

Remembering how mistakes, were mistakes, with very little cause to correct.

‘Miss, I have finished’. I correct myself in my thoughts as I wish I could turn back the page

Maybe a chapter maybe a book or two. Rewinding is what we all love to do at some stage

I just wished I didn’t feel this every single day.

 

My rambling has occurred

I’ve not written or spoken sweet words of poetry

With a soft deep tone to make knees we and tremble as I speak in a while. 

 

Maybe its the relationship I’m in that takes me such a while to finally word it all out.

I’ve lost my way, made mistakes upon mistakes, even lost my faith for a long while.

It’s taken 3 years to figure it all out. What do I do now?

A Dead Man’s Poem

Bullets spray
Knives penetrate
Effortlessly

Brings me to a halt
Lungs seize
No longer able to heave
Blood cells exposed
Colours change
Neurogenic muscles
Shut down
Remaining lifeless

As
Bullets spray
Knives penetrate
So effortlessly

I dreamed as time flies
I for one tenth of my last breath
That I’d see my businesses thrive that
I’d meet my Gemini
As I was rammed in my gut
With scorpion like blades
Poison seeping through my veins
Mentally under paralysis

I see life’s gift,
Dark, with light patches
Delicious, with a bitter after taste
Life is…classic
Death is so sweet, with a pungent aroma
Deemed by many as negative
Still sipping on life’s sedative.

As, we effortlessly
Kill each other with words like bullets
And actions like daggers
We create our own demise in ourselves and others

As bullets spray
Knives penetrate
So effortlessly

2013 D Word Chef

Hate Is My Motivation

Broken down by words filled with hate, disgust, regret, guilt
Bludgeoned with a bat
With spikes that read mistake
Served with a side of life.

I was born free to create my own destiny
But, I had no choice but to live in hate
From hate I acquire anger, mistrust and
Limited expectation

Days bolt past
Increasing my motivation
Life holds up a mirror
Causing a rethink
As I hold my head over and sync

Fixated in a cycle
No brakes
No snooze button
In this alarming state of mind
Anger simmering
Hate bellowing

Exposed to the naked eye
You see my inability to break free as long as I agree to be,
Hatred’s seed.
Embroiled in my fire for success

I look beyond the hierarchies that have stood firm in my need to live and breathe progress
Cremated in a furnace of self discovery
I’m a hater
Of Slack, Deprived Individuals
Regurgitating undermined proverbs from societies cursed cauldron
The system lays to rest another one of its victims
Will this code ever be decrypted.

Mentally I’m free but superficial
I increase in the deceased
The classes
The brackets
The types

I want to be an anomaly
Peculiar in my new state of motivation
My negative
When seen I’m not a great shot
No more photoshop
Look deep you’ll see the vulnerability, the cracks, the filament of anger, dislodged love and delusion that fills the seams.

I represent Negative motivation
In develop I’m a black screen
When I come to light
You see my definition
I’m going to succeed
But…

…What will I have to leave…

The Growth

Here’s a poem that I did recently for the intro to Rapper Anthony Ant’s Project **Growing Pains.**

Intro “The Growth”

Inspired by my stereotype
I removed my thought process from
Your archetype
Broke free
From the clasps around my ankles
Ascending beyond this categorical strongbox

But Life held up its end of the bargain and
Dashed me back to earth
With one box

As I still carried on the form
Of planting potent seeds
Out of wedlock.
Time disperses
I never wanted to spread my crops
That’s what happens
When Pandora’s unlocked
So off Smirnoff regurgitating lips I gulp

My thoughts and dreams of success becoming prominent
Wither, as I cry Mercy.
Weakened by her presence
I’ve lost my growth.

So, it’s time for Ant
To show you how to grow,
Life throws stones at your head
But it’s up to you to change
Those stones into gems

My daughter’s my diamond and my reason for
Growth.
Even If It’s Painful To Uphold,
Through Growing Pains I’ll Go…

© 2013 By Deji “DWordChef” Babatunde

Been Away

I’ve lost my passion for you
I’ve lost my passion for food
I’ve lost my passion for football

The avenues I hoped to make my fortunes,
I’ve lost a lot in the past few months…
Trying to achieve what others need and want

It’s about time I woke up
Smelt the shit that I’m in
Was it for love, fame or money
Neither I’d say
I just let go without knowing how to grab you all back…
Prisoner in every home I live in
My haven was the perfect getaway
Now I’ve got no get away
Trying to grab hold of poetry
Because she knows me
Told me to write how I feel
For the lack of figures who could really understand
What goes on with me
Footy he showed that discipline and hard work with talent
Does amazing things
I just failed to work hard enough.
Took blows like Harrison
With no response
Now I’m 22 does my dream or fear
Keep me fibrous
In my status

I’d love to create a melody on a plate again
Have people wish they’d had a taste
of what a sweet succulent plate of soul tastes like
Whether presented with etiquette
Or assembled in a mess
I hoped my food would help you digest
The stress of work or life with a
Delightful meal.

I long to reconnect with my gifts…
Some day I’ll look back on these words
And just be thankful for the change I made
Before it was to late

Deji Babatunde

Mind (Writer’s) Block

Whether it’s love, tragedy, hate, regret, happiness,
Joy or any form of emotion.
That makes me write,
I do not know where you’ve gone but,
I need your release,

Trapped in this vortex,
I’ve neglected peace,
Made friends with Doubt and,
Questions, always hangs around,
Like a migrane.
Difficult to shake
I’d love to write with a free mind but poetry,
For you I’ve had no time
Miss the way
You’d serenade my mind
Boy did we have great times
But are those times behind us
I really don’t know
I’m writing this not knowing
Whether it flows
Lord Knows
I’ll get you back one day…
Spraying fragrances like my boy Dele.
Now to read through this dead piece…
If I made mistakes highlight them please,
Art is refined so why do we check for mistakes
Just decode my art for heaven sakes…

Peace

Bones

You were suppose to be

My backbone

My funny bone

My shoulder to cry on

My lumbar

As you were the bridge to my destiny.

My cranium as you were head strong.

I’d be your breastbone for there is where you’d lay your head to rest on.

You’re my tibia and fibula

Where I depend on

To get a stepping

When I needed to race

Against failure, depression,

And becoming a systematic robot in this developed world’s

Digression

Where

We

Get

Stepped

On

You are phalanges

To repress repression

As your wrist exertion is stiff enough

To cause a rift, amongst this governmental affliction

Poetry is my addiction.

So I’d speak to my pages

Massaging them with my ink or finger tips.

Cause to you

Poetry

I can give my…

2012 by Deji “D Word Chef” Babatunde