So the haitus I took was much longer than I had expected, nonetheless during that time of self reflection, I have been working on two manuscripts simultaneously. Each manuscript upon completion will take on a life of it’s own.
The first will be befittingly titled DRIED ROSES; this book of poems speaks on matters relating to the pains and woes of being in a toxic relationship. With each gem that is penned the reader will be able to relate whether he/she has had similar experiences.
The second will be befittingly entitled UNORTHODOX MUSING; this book of poems will take you into world of an underserved youth, where anguish, frustration, death, Injustices amongst other things are ever present. With this book you will live through his eyes, die and be saved.
So be on the lookout for these upcoming collections. But before I go here’s a sip, a taste of what DRIED ROSES will be offering;
Her personality; abysmal,
An acerbic one
acetylene It gave an ache,
And I was a sheep
to her abattoir.
My death came quick
Then I was forgotten.
© Xavier J. Frazer
I wish I could say I love you
And actually mean it,
I hope your day is filled with misery.
I hope as you see my face,
Your organs begin to collide and the space between your lungs become clustered,
You are unable to breathe
and in those moments,
I will forget your face.
Father after you read this,
I hope it gets worse and
if your soul yearns for happiness,
I hope you remember,
I was the first step
when you chose to skate.
Last time we spoke,
You said “I am an ungrateful,
Good for nothing, son of a bitch.”
Who the fuck gave you that right?
If I am from you,
Do we not share that “son of a bitch”gene?
Am I not the blood that runs in your veins?
Was that what you really wanted to say?
You should’ve asked your self these questions,
“Where was I when my son needed a father?”
“Where was I when he became a man with two daughters?” Trying not to make the same mistake I did.
Father when I needed you
You needed yourself,
A clear illustration of selfishness.
I had to learn from a woman,
what it meant to be a man.
Not to say something
is wrong with that
But, she, she fathered me,
I bet you think I would say,
“It was just not the same”
Indeed, but better.
She taught me what makes a man, a man
And how to fend for myself
After, i realised.
That you did not deserve to be called a man,
You are a coward in the eyes of the brave,
A faceless creature of the night.
Father can’t you understand
You are as much as a failure
As you wished to see me be,
But, I learnt the art of becoming.
I was blessed with the soul of a survivor,
the black skin of a warrior
You are nothing to me.
A dead beat father
A sperm donor
An absentee loner.
I am nothing like you,
The fact that I happen to share your last name,
Is a big misdemeanour,
With that being said,
Just call me Xavier.