Seeking Night Lights
i change channels whenever the TV screens
an ad. dreams destroy, dad says, especially
when they’re larger than your pockets.
on nights when catalepsy bind me to the desert
grounds, peeking at the night sky through the
window, i walk the edges of this somnolent world
to avoid roaming into unbirthable realities.
a poor man’s dream is a wingless bird.
because empty pockets & bellies incarcerate ideas,
i fall on my knees & whisper dreams into the
crevices of my palms. if my heart hold enough
saltwaters to evade rainy eyes, my hands should
receptacle crushing pains to escape broken dreams.
on nights when the stars paint my tears into a mural
— a testament of the times i’ve reached for
ethereal heights but crash into the pockets of ennui,
on nights when the dark smothers butterflies & i chase
fireflies down this blind path, say glimmers are phantasms
veiling cremains of incinerated tomorrows,
on nights when i am the spacecraft launching my dreams,
defying gravity, battling time, seeking bioluminescence
out of this universe, but the ozone layer is a tether,
plummeting me back into the crevices of my palms.
on nights when i bury my dreams in the earth like seeds
waiting to grow into blooming petals, hoping for life
to rain and shine. but i know that this soil is a carnivore
devouring whorls of tomorrows, a sizzling potsherd
burning every modicum of hope into forgotten ashes.
but nights lose their black cloak, like a bride unveiling
herself to the groom, so like mimosa pudica, i shall
welcome light into the chambers of my heart with
open arms & sunny smiles.
Dear God
it’s me again.
i am rummaging Spotify to find songs
deeper than the crevices in my heart.
Siri asks me today when the listening
the streak of heartbreak songs will end.
Duolingo’s bird slaps my head with its wings,
leaving a reddened question mark on my face
—when shall I stop learning only the grieving tongue?
Google search bar desserts me tonight,
scarred with suicidal thoughts that
coat every inch of its history.
YouTube’s algorithm push smiley videos,
but I pull with tears into my cave of lonesomeness.
Meta AI reaches me before I do,
knocking on my inbox
to dispatch links to positive articles.
Dear God,
i’m here again.
Tomorrow, when the sun rises,
let it find me.
A Mouthful of Broken Songs
this poem is a battlefront, my pen & heart
locked in warfare.
i rob the sky of stars
& wonder what happens if life steals the
twinkles in my eyes. on nights when my eyes
cries torrents of saltwaters, thunderclaps
shall punctuate my whimpers, & lightnings
won’t lighten the
weight on my heart. so
I let my pen wrench my heart for drops of
crimson truths, dreams forgotten in hammering
sunrays, voice beaten
into cracks like reddened
earths. so i will be the sky, purging myself of
pains growling inside of me in flashes of grim,
& seas of darkness till light finds me & i glow
in the warmth of the sun once again. & in the
aftermath of this battle,
you shall find cadavers
of yesterday sprawled on the floor. this poem is
a ritual of ecdysis. this poem is a mouthful
of broken songs kintsugiing itself
into a better tomorrow.
Muheez Olawale is a Nigerian creative with a passion for storytelling. He was the runner-up, A.S. Abugi National Prize for Short Story. His poem won the COAS Literary Competition 2024. He has works published or forthcoming in The Kalahari Review, The Hooghly Review, The Muse, Akewi, Synchronized Chaos, Micromance, and elsewhere. His collection of humorous tiny stories, “Pocketfuls of Palava” is available for free on Selar. Connect with him on Instagram and X @_muheezolawale.
Cover photo credit: Jovydas Dobilas
Beautiful 🥰