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Wil Kavi

Wil Kavi

Lost child

Alone,
in the same old crowd,
trying to ignore
this stifling pain.
 
I am but
a lost and lonely child,
aching to be seen
and touched again.
 
I am ashamed to say
I don’t know how
to reach beyond
this veil of fear.
 
I miss you
and love you always,
though I know not
who or what you are.

(2013)

1
Préféré par...
Andrea Sky Richards
Autres oeuvres par Wil Kavi...
End of days

Look out there, see them, boy ? They want yer juice. They’re dry, them circlin’ desert… All they want's yer juice, boy.
The village well

I come to the village well today, though without a need to drink. My worldly thirst now quenched, with home and hearth supplied. I am here to fill a deeper vessel
glosa....'The Beggar and the Woman"

Neon lights buzzed in staccato out… Sleep seemed something I dare not… I took myself looking to ease my a… keeping to steamy side-streets and… heading for the part of town beyon…
 1
Wheel of karma

Your end? My end? Where the hell’s the middle? You say this. I say that.
Please help me

No words of wisdom. No clever rhymes. Not this day. Something heavy weighs me down.
 1
Solitaire

You play your cards so well. Looks like you’ve had a lot of pra… You seem to have a thorough grasp of all the rules of the game. As you cover every angle,
Knower of my heart

Oh, knower of my heart, this trembling voice cries out in words that cannot begin to tell how deep my longing is for thee.
 1
Yet another version

It seems for ages, I have been trapped behind yet another version of what I want to think I know. I was so sure I loved you
Mountain-top

It seems the only way to reach the mountain-top, is through the desert wasteland. It is only there that one might come to learn
 1
I am oracle

I dreamed of being lost and trappe… in a land of angry fearful liars. There was nowhere to run or hide. I cowered cornered and exhausted, my back against the furthest wall;
 1
Like a painting

I stared at her like she was a painting, as if I had all day and night to drink in every curve and contour
 1
To touch you

These words are crude utensils, with which to touch you, and be touched;
Imperfect time and place.

My father is dead, still he speaks through me; “Don’t say anything....OR ELSE!… There was plenty of “OR ELSE!” to go around.
Between these lines

Are you the one I have no words f… Are you the one who seeks the space between these lines? I used to think I’d know you inst… Now I don’t know anything at all.
 1
Only ever thee

My garments have been stripped awa… along with any hope of tender merc… These feet made bare and sorely bl… It’s time again to bear your earth… Still it seems you know not what y…



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