I think I recall?

I Think I Recall?
by Rasheed Ferguson 30/05/06


Momentary thoughts of diversion, instils the complexity of a creative mind.
Clock hands turn and work together to kill time.
Stop, no, continue, no.Somewhere in between is where I lie.


It’s been awhile now since I’ve tasted the eloquence of the fruit of my hand.
Even longer since I remembered what its taste was like.
Like it, leave it or love it?
When my prodigal clock gazes back into these opened lids,
Balance perhaps will consider ending its strike.


Seven days, everyday, six days of festivity.
I’ll be the giver, cheerfully….. always, but close to never.
How ironic it is to enlarge your marquee & to stretch out your tent pegs.
Only to one day look back and realize nothing was secured…
…you moved… but never moved!


Your enormous giving heart weighed down your paralyzed yet ever running legs…

The Pied Viper

A poem written earlier this year - thought it would make a good first blog experience.

The Pied Viper

15/04/08

Rasheed Ferguson

We have believed in what we do not own,

We’ve walked out miles for what we have not known,

Could this come close to thoughts of grabbing air?

For what we’re grasping for will leave us there.

Our crooked flaws have locked us out again,

We tear our hands and break our backs again,

For what we own is who we think we are,

But we are more that what will get us far.

So let’s march through the streets and leave our shoes behind,

For as our feet gather dust, let dust our hearts remind,

That when we raise up our flags and scream WE CANNOT FIND!,

A Grace within our selves, but inside Grace we’re never blind.

We’ve adored the scent of charm and praise is never far,

We have embraced the moons of pride to be amongst the stars,

Could this come close to thoughts of grabbing air?

For what we’re grasping for has stripped us bare.

So now we sleep satisfied, content, but alone?

We have what we want, but what we long for we don’t know,

For as hours fly by as we search the skies,

The drink of our brow again does not satisfy.

So let’s march through the streets and leave our shoes behind,

For as our feet gather dust, let dust our hearts remind,

That when we raise up our flags and scream WE CANNOT FIND!,

A Grace within our selves,

But inside Grace we’re never blind.