Do you ever listen to the poetry?

Do you ever listen to the poetry?
Do you hear the 

War chants 

These lines whisper 

Whilst hugging the shadows?
Do you see the blood 

Clotting at the same

Spot where fragile feelings 

Collide against the

The rock shore of reality?
Do you ever pay attention 

To the flags 

That these words 

Twirls against gale-force winds

On rainy days

And stormy night?
If you did 

You would hear 

That they do not

Call your name

Put simply wish to

Spill out the pain 
So left it flow 

Even if it fills up

No wellls within 

It should make you

Feel whole.

// I might take this down soon. Words and  photo by Hakeem Adam. 

Butterfly eyes 

Her butterfly eyes come flapping into mine. 

They take flight, just as her cheeks 

Rise like the sun creeping from 

The nothingness of night 

To light up all the

Little flowers in their jackets of color 

Her butterfly eyes

With wings shimmering with desire

Slice through the tightening air between us

Like a bullet, graceful but lethal

Till they reach the nervous smile 

Painting itself on my face 

Like a rainbow clearing a stormy sky

Then for that moment when her

Butterfly eyes land on mine

I forget they are eyes

And wish they were 

A raindrop in which we can hide

Till we hit the ground 

Like rolling stone 

And it’s all down hill from here

Jack and Jill rode the hurricane 

Tugged it mane as it twirled it’s skirt

Forgot that it was just passing by

On the way to somewhere quiet 

They lept with it over rolling stones 

They left with it like they had hollow bones 

No their heads are in the skies

The necks begin to feel cold

The ground is a dot all alone 

But the hurricane is on its way 

So it’s all downhill from here

The sky cannot carry you

The ground cannot swallow you

So the strange fruit must hang

By the jaws of a snare

Burning corpse; ready to blow

Even the maggots with no legs are crawling out of this cold flesh that is turning to the subject of dirges  Even the raunchy odor ,born within, is hiding in the pockets of Fresh Air, going to a place where it can breathe

time holds this carcass from imploding.stress giving way to the sweet release of bitter death

The unconcerned sun above fathers no no shade for us

Life left this place before we had time to live

And death will go before we realize that this place is…


with hands in hands


artwork by Hakeem Adam “With hands in hands” (2016)

Introducing Dandano

[Jill Scott X Not Like Crazy]

Hello Guys, 

I used to love this blog so much. It was one of my most comfortable spaces on the Internet and probably deep down in me it still is. The Lost Scrolls/Tuff Assassin gave me a voice to express myself through the magic of poetry and through those little rhymes and charming metaphors, I fell in love with the beauty of words. I taught myself to adore them and use them as outlet to deal with the demons in my head and heart. I met a lot of wonderful friends here too. 

Sadly I have fallen out of love with it. I still write poetry but I don’t share it so much on here. I do plan on changing that very soon. Maybe it is time for another “A poem a day” challenge.

These days I focus my energy on this new platform I am building called Dandano. It is a platform dedicated to the critical analysis of African film and music. I am just building but I think you guys have earned the right to know about it. It is part of the reason why my poetry is sporadic but I intend to find focus and continue to share my words with you. For now Dandano is all I have to offer. 

For those who have stuck with me through this silence, thank you. I hope to return to sharing my creative writing. 

-Hakeem Adam