tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31508123170275077662023-06-20T21:11:09.750-07:00WORLD OF POETRYThis world of poetry is a platform where poetry defines itself as an index finger pointing the world to the path of change...Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07598102067241407515noreply@blogger.comBlogger25125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3150812317027507766.post-51549466350563537702016-02-21T06:45:00.001-08:002016-02-21T07:10:38.660-08:00with you I-X<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
I
<br />
<br />
adunni...
<br />
<br />
i broke my heart over the sun of december
<br />
eclipsed by the moon of emptiness...
<br />
<br />
it was without you...
<br />
<br />
i come with wounded dreams
<br />
i writhe from pains singeing my blood...
<br />
<br />
will you again stitch me
<br />
from the rays of your sun
<br />
and needle me with love?
<br />
<br />
that i may live again<br />
my dreams...
<br />
<br />
my heart with you.
<br />
<br />
II
<br />
<br />
i have stirred the web of my dreams
<br />
it is nothing without you...
<br />
<br />
like the cloudy bowels of harmattan
<br />
pregnant with emptiness from emptiness
<br />
i nurture nights and novels of loneliness...
<br />
<br />
but adunni...
<br />
<br />
before december fades like a frigid ember
<br />
will you wake again with my dawn
<br />
and save my dusks from loneliness?
<br />
<br />
that i may spider webs of fruitful dreams
<br />
and dream dreams with you...
<br />
<br />
III
<br />
<br />
adunni...
<br />
<br />
i saw the songs of dry leaves and ashes
<br />
the red rhythms of fire over the tongues of harmattan
<br />
and i remember my fire...my dryness...
<br />
<br />
without you...
<br />
<br />
i saw the barrenness of trees pregnant with dust
<br />
the sadness of fallen leaves...loss and death
<br />
and i remember my barrenness without you...
<br />
<br />
will you bless me with the rains of love?
<br />
that my fire may die and bring bloom for my sterility...
<br />
<br />
and be green again with you.
<br />
<br />
IV
<br />
<br />
you know adunni...
<br />
<br />
i sat close to the musing of the moon
<br />
and played the gospel of my dreaming drums
<br />
without you...
<br />
<br />
she hissed and spewed anger in shooting stars
<br />
and my rhythms faded in trembling testaments...
<br />
<br />
do i have a gospel without your psalmody?
<br />
<br />
but would you again like a david to my soul
<br />
string the harp of psalms over my holed-heart?
<br />
<br />
that i may pour smiles into the mouth of the moon
<br />
rhythms with psalms...a gospel with you...
<br />
<br />
V
<br />
shall i not tell you, adunni?
<br />
i have become a drum without rhythms
<br />
and my heart plays hide and seek with breath...
<br />
<br />
how can i beat without you?
<br />
<br />
the raven came with bad news
<br />
that my one penny of feelings is a glowing darkness
<br />
that you teared tears bearing the memories of my beasts
<br />
the anger that ruined the root of our fine love...
<br />
<br />
but would you again bury the beasts of memories
<br />
and raise me a saint with beauty...
<br />
<br />
that i may find melody for drums...breath with you...
<br />
<br />
VI<br />
<br />
adunni...
<br />
<br />
i feel like the muted expressions of the sun
<br />
beneath the frowned clouds of harmattan
<br />
i am not smiling without you...
<br />
<br />
i have engraved on the pages of my teeth
<br />
the writings of bitterness of my twisted tongue
<br />
for how can i walk the miles without your smiles?
<br />
my teeth are white-washed sepulchers of dead smiles...
<br />
<br />
would you again be my genesis of smiles?
<br />
that my teeth may write a new testament for revelation...
<br />
<br />
and smiles with you.
<br />
<br />
VII
<br />
<br />
adunni...
<br />
<br />
i have tattooed the spine of the night
<br />
with the cloudiness of my frozen heart
<br />
i am a torn thorny twig of thoughts
<br />
without you...
<br />
<br />
i have lent my soul to the wind
<br />
and cupped the psalms of clouds into hugging palms
<br />
to weep my ruins into your heart
<br />
i have no tears again save the broken teeth of harmattan...
<br />
<br />
would you again bloom roses for my thorns?
<br />
that i may find beauty with you...
<br />
<br />
VIII
<br />
<br />
my heart is yet traded its breath to the neck bone
<br />
and i feel a fear on the palate of my tongue
<br />
without you...
<br />
<br />
i fear my breath shall soon jump out of my mouth
<br />
for incompleteness has laid restlessness into my pulses...
<br />
<br />
but adunni....
<br />
<br />
would you again on the skin of the season
<br />
squeeze the elixir of love into my perforated heart?
<br />
your breath into my breath
<br />
your life into my life...
<br />
<br />
that i may find peace for my restless pulses...
<br />
<br />
IX
<br />
<br />
adunni...
<br />
<br />
shall i not strip it quickly?
<br />
shall i not unclothe the burning beneath my burning?
<br />
how without i am without you...
<br />
<br />
i regret the day i buried the tonic sofa of our love
<br />
into the crooked clefs of anger and manly hubris
<br />
i regret the bitter bruises on the laps of the evening
<br />
where i once sang you beautiful serenades...
<br />
<br />
i can no more touch the sky...
<br />
<br />
but would your love consider again the misery of my man
<br />
that i may touch the sky again with you....
<br />
<br />
X
<br />
<br />
today is the last page of my scrolls
<br />
for your forgiveness
<br />
for your with you to my without you...
<br />
<br />
in my lost to lost i lost you
<br />
and my fate is pregnant with a prodigal sadness...
<br />
<br />
i have tried and failed my teeth for brightness
<br />
over the soon birth of the new moon
<br />
and my thoughts have slipped into the arms of dark corners...
<br />
<br />
but adunni...
<br />
<br />
would you return again with love tonight?
<br />
that i may watch the new moon with you...
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07598102067241407515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3150812317027507766.post-8394586203565020992015-11-19T03:02:00.001-08:002015-11-19T03:02:16.955-08:00Leaves of Ink: Hope of Bright Mornings (Mirror Sestet)<a href="http://www.leaves-of-ink.com/2015/11/hope-of-bright-mornings-mirror-sestet.html?spref=bl">Leaves of Ink: Hope of Bright Mornings (Mirror Sestet)</a>: Contributor: Ayoola Goodness Olanrewaju - - Yesterdays bloat with hays Hays once green in the rays of the sun god of yesterdays Pas...Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07598102067241407515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3150812317027507766.post-61124802156758766952015-10-24T22:37:00.000-07:002018-08-29T03:11:02.810-07:00cacophonies<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
I<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
and poetry speaks to my poetry
<br />
in the echoes of noises in the heart of a hole
<br />
this hole is my heart...
<br />
<br />
these are the tears of my hands
<br />
the pains of the claps that killed emptiness and not the flea...
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
of youthful chants of sorrowful psalms
<br />
in the blurring tomorrows of the old testaments...
<br />
<br />
these toothless wrinkled gluttons still want meat
<br />
they crush the characters of tomorrows within gummy teeth...bloody
<br />
<br />
in the covetousness of mobile adverbials...
<br />
<br />
II
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
i hear voices rend in shrills
<br />
like the chorus of metals in the skulls of tambourines
<br />
<br />
like the branches stomped by the wildness of the wind
<br />
shaken bruised and broken...
<br />
<br />
in silenced cacophonies of falls and frails...
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
and there are the creased voices in the tangle of sheets
<br />
craving for folds and smoothness...
<br />
<br />
tell me where again do we find rhythms for celebration?
<br />
<br />
when our drum-skins are beaten to tears and tears<br />
when our drummers are maleficent at heart...
<br />
<br />
III
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
these voices eat me deep
<br />
like a gluttonous distance
<br />
who dines on the meals of the fast and furious...
<br />
<br />
i feel heavy and defeated
<br />
like an incomplete destiny of a phrase...
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
only if these were not cacophonies of dirges
<br />
we would have blessed our legs with beads of rhythm...
<br />
and dance<br />
even on the face of a can concession...
<br />
<br />
how do one dance the melodies of war?
<br />
<br />
IV
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
i swallow a thousand times
<br />
to drench in pleas in mucous libation
<br />
for the clustered spirits of noises within me...
<br />
<br />
i hear piercing whines
<br />
cacophonies in the pockets of giant terrors...
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
shall i not scream from their screams
<br />
and cream your ears frustrating tingles?
<br />
<br />
shall i not scream from their severed screams
<br />
screams from scorching torture and silence?<br />
and spell your luxury of sleep restless ghouls and cacophonies...
<br />
<br />
V<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
when we tuned in the rhythms of felicitations
<br />
for the hairs that grew over our baldness...
<br />
<br />
did our songs not melt into distressed cacophonies?
<br />
did we not summon tidal waves of cries for our eyes?
<br />
<br />
when we found out we have gone bald again...
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
what stories do we tell our children?
<br />
do we tell them the lies they told us?
<br />
<br />
when we have promised them the candies of hope
<br />
and boast brightness for their days of darkness...
<br />
<br />
tell me...do we return again with this empty hopes?
<br />
<br />
VI
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
i feel cacophonies burst in my bowels
<br />
like formidable streams of dexterity
<br />
in the arms of a passionate drummer...
<br />
<br />
i am a market of noises
<br />
am i a market of noises?
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
could that be the beats of rains
<br />
or the cheers of dancing beads over the belly of the gourd?
<br />
<br />
ah! it is the weeps of soulful spirits<br />
the spirits of mothers who lost their gold
<br />
to the wickedness of the ballot boxes...
<br />
<br />
VII
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
they steal away the rays of our brightness
<br />
from the blessedness of our suns...
<br />
<br />
they spill darkness on the canvass of our days
<br />
the darkness in the city of their hearts...
<br />
<br />
they play the deaf to our cacophonies of succour...
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
how they maim our binds of friendliness
<br />
with keen daggers of hostility and blood...
<br />
<br />
they break in asunder our placenta of love
<br />
and rip-rape our sister, peace
<br />
under uncouth libidos and dangles of wars...
<br />
<br />
VIII
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
our peace has the price-tags of wars
<br />
the peace we never bought...we never had...
<br />
<br />
a minute silence...
<br />
<br />
booms.bursts.fires.blasts.sands.blood.bloods.wails.voices
<br />
echoes...cacophonies in pods of paradoxes-deadly and death
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
if you want peace prepare for war<br />
if you do not want peace prepare for war
<br />
if you want war prepare for war...
<br />
<br />
pieces.piecemeal.wars.peace.pieces.piecemeal.peace.wars
<br />
how do wars find peace?
<br />
<br />
IX
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
i have walked the night
<br />
in the nakedness of darkness...unclad
<br />
<br />
my ears crave for silence...
<br />
<br />
and within the silence is the loudness
<br />
of my heart...louder than silence...
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
the noises for alms of many mouths
<br />
the noises of street children estranged and violated
<br />
the noises of the mothers and daily dirges to the sun
<br />
the noises of pleading victims...corpses awaiting coffins...
<br />
<br />
the noises of scenes hollowed, hidden in my heart...
<br />
<br />
X
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
and yet it is these noises within me
<br />
dry bones fluting for flesh... for life...
<br />
<br />
craving for breath
<br />
the breath of peace from putrid belch of wars...<br />
<br />
crying... ‘do not give up on me’
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
i am a poet of troubled noises
<br />
a poet of tears
<br />
<br />
i shall wing and bellow the ears of heavens...open
<br />
i shall scurry and burrow into the soul of poesy...deep
<br />
until these cacophonies trade for celebration.
<br />
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07598102067241407515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3150812317027507766.post-74480032003748015412015-09-22T23:21:00.001-07:002015-09-22T23:50:40.217-07:00emptiness I-X<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
I
<br />
i<br />
<br />
i prey on clusters of darkness
<br />
and trap some between the palms of my hands<br />
<br />
i stake my fisted-games
<br />
over the lashing tongues of fire<br />
<br />
i eat the meals of emptiness...<br />
<br />
ii<br />
<br />
i am a hunter of words
<br />
and my heart knows me well<br />
<br />
i hunt from an emptiness within
<br />
an emptiness, burdened with words...<br />
<br />
an emptiness of everything.<br />
<br />
II<br />
<br />
i
<br />
there in the heart of space and time
<br />
is a broken nothingness of something...many<br />
<br />
emptiness like the dusts of dreams
<br />
scattered in the heads of deep sleeps...<br />
<br />
the emptiness in the rest in peace...<br />
<br />
ii
<br />
a poet’s weave is from the threads of nothing
<br />
from the deaths of broken and forlorn words
<br />
and silence...<br />
<br />
a roast of darkness over lines of lights
<br />
for transformation.<br />
<br />
<br />
III<br />
<br />
i
<br />
<br />
and in the beginning there is an emptiness
<br />
a pen and craving spaces...<br />
<br />
a poet and thoughts
<br />
lines and then poetry...<br />
<br />
and the poetry is good...<br />
<br />
ii<br />
<br />
here lies the creation of poetry
<br />
moulded in an empty emptiness...<br />
<br />
like the emptiness in the lifting
<br />
within the veins of a trodden thread
<br />
<br />
heavily light.<br />
<br />
IV<br />
<br />
i
<br />
<br />
poesy is a loom of cadence
<br />
in the emptiness of sustained notes...<br />
<br />
the loud soundless of soothing sounds
<br />
in the soft whispers of slowed lyrics<br />
<br />
the magic in tender smiles empty and pure...<br />
<br />
ii<br />
<br />
a foetus in bloody pools of emptiness
<br />
in the wombs of barren silence<br />
<br />
in the pregnant echoes of lines...<br />
<br />
in the breaths of nibs
<br />
of inks from fountains void.<br />
<br />
V<br />
<br />
i
<br />
<br />
i sit at the shore of waters
<br />
and i net not for fishes in the deep...<br />
<br />
i fish peaceful stimulus of words
<br />
from the hovering emptiness <br />
on the surfaced silence of shallow waters<br />
<br />
ii<br />
<br />
do you know poetry dances in
<br />
the flickers of dust?<br />
<br />
empty and light<br />
<br />
unscathed
<br />
in the slices of the sun rays...
<br />
<br />
VI<br />
<br />
i
<br />
<br />
i gaze at the mumblings of insanity
<br />
how words drool from the hotness of rants
<br />
and emptiness...<br />
<br />
i see poetry
<br />
and poetry sees me...<br />
<br />
ii<br />
<br />
give me emptiness
<br />
and i shall give you true poetry<br />
<br />
for in this emptiness<br />
i am filled...<br />
<br />
muses void, weaves of wordy wonders.<br />
<br />
VII<br />
<br />
i<br />
<br />
when your eyes see the world
<br />
upside down...<br />
<br />
and emptiness hemmed at the
<br />
dangling up down, down up<br />
<br />
there...is a poetry to right...<br />
<br />
ii<br />
<br />
i see poetry to right<br />
<br />
in the emptiness of a careless loss
<br />
in the emptiness of death, dying and death
<br />
in the tongues of ruin of an empty fire...<br />
<br />
in the emptiness here, on the slate of my heart.<br />
<br />
VIII<br />
<br />
i<br />
<br />
words weaved in the threads of peaceful muse
<br />
lie on the bed of leaves...<br />
<br />
in the beauty of emptiness...deep...<br />
<br />
in the comfort of a fluttering emptiness
<br />
of a dancing dry leaf to the music of the wind...<br />
<br />
ii<br />
<br />
now...i feel empty
<br />
an emptiness in the abundance of words...<br />
<br />
like the emptiness of a mirror <br />
without a face<br />
<br />
i itch of poetry...<br />
<br />
IX<br />
<br />
i<br />
<br />
i fry the flies of failures
<br />
in the words of excellence...<br />
<br />
failure is a forced poesy
<br />
excellence is a true muse...<br />
<br />
a true muse... woven from emptiness.<br />
<br />
ii<br />
<br />
i see dead emptiness breathe
<br />
in fluid muses...perfect for thirsts...<br />
<br />
in the creation of light lines...empty-
<br />
in the purity on the slate of the tongue...<br />
<br />
in the nibs of fine poets.<br />
<br />
X<br />
<br />
i<br />
<br />
this heart moulds emptiness...<br />
<br />
in the likeness of thoughts <br />
in the clay of lines<br />
<br />
he breathes in it figures of speech
<br />
and the emptiness becomes poetry...<br />
<br />
ii<br />
<br />
be fruitful and multiply
<br />
have dominion in lines pure...rhythms<br />
<br />
in rich rhymes...vast verses...sweet stanzas...
<br />
and let this emptiness...<br />
<br />
your starting point to poetry.
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07598102067241407515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3150812317027507766.post-49538337067285380412015-09-08T10:02:00.000-07:002015-09-08T10:06:13.503-07:00reveries<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
i
<br />
as the night spreads the pigment of grey
<br />
over the fluffy clothes of the firmament
<br />
and the moon tucks in half like a bronze coin
<br />
into the breast-pockets of the passing clouds
<br />
<br />
i lie lost in the garden of your thoughts
<br />
<br />
between my head and my heart
<br />
between my nibs and conversations of sheets
<br />
between here and there...
<br />
<br />
ii
<br />
<br />
i see the slivery winks of the stellar stares
<br />
and i remember our best of laughters
<br />
when we raced in the cooling chills of pure water
<br />
hand in hand...
<br />
<br />
the unspeakable sweetness on your lips
<br />
and the beam of brightness you saw in my eyes
<br />
<br />
how we laughed loud and drew lovely echoes
<br />
on the jealous face of the roving breeze...
<br />
iii
<br />
<br />
shall i forget quickly?
<br />
the griefs and the tears we shared
<br />
i remember how you sobbed bitterly
<br />
upon the shivers of my shoulders...
<br />
<br />
how i manned my tears and failed...
<br />
<br />
how we cried silently
<br />
how we both cried silently loud
<br />
how we finished crying and cried even more...
<br />
<br />
iv
<br />
<br />
i remember the tonic of your voice
<br />
when you called my name...
<br />
<br />
the tremble in my voice
<br />
when i looked into your eyes...
<br />
<br />
the charm of your giggles
<br />
that brought rhythms to my cheeks...
<br />
<br />
the lost into the worlds of angels
<br />
when your hair fluttered between the fingers of the wind...
<br />
<br />
v
<br />
<br />
like the loss of a lone star
<br />
i plead forever twinkles of your thoughts
<br />
<br />
as they journey farewell into the night...
<br />
my eyes birth a teary flow...
<br />
<br />
between my head and my heart
<br />
between my nibs and conversations of sheets<br />
between here and there
<br />
<br />
you were my here and there that was...
<br />
<br />
Ayoola Goodness (c)2015
<br />
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07598102067241407515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3150812317027507766.post-81600103694481227172015-09-08T02:14:00.000-07:002015-09-08T02:24:37.416-07:00stimulated vibrations I-X<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I
<br />
<br />
i
<br />
<br />
ilesanmi...
<br />
<br />
this life is a bullet of words
<br />
shot into the depths of craniums...
<br />
<br />
it is the wails on the lips of thousands
<br />
echoes...
<br />
<br />
i have been hit
<br />
and i bleed profusely...
<br />
<br />
ii
<br />
<br />
these tears are the wetness of my sore
<br />
and my sleeplessness is not of a lost love...
<br />
<br />
it is the nurse of my worded wound...
<br />
i see myriads of lines swirl in my bleeds
<br />
<br />
i recuperate...i relapse
<br />
<br />
tell me...<br />
are these my dreams too?
<br />
<br />
<br />
II
<br />
<br />
i<br />
<br />
ilesanmi...
<br />
<br />
yesterday...how i tried...
<br />
to hide from this force within, eating me
<br />
from this poetic burden and breeds for words...
<br />
<br />
but which mother neglects the weeps of her womb?
<br />
<br />
the wails of empty spaces
<br />
the cries of quills, tender...
<br />
<br />
held me bound!
<br />
<br />
ii
<br />
<br />
i wish i could tell the day i gulped this water
<br />
fashioned in the rituals of words...
<br />
<br />
a thirst for a thirst for my thirst
<br />
for in my drunkeness, i still thirst
<br />
<br />
tell me
<br />
what happens to a drunkard thirsty for words?
<br />
<br />
<br />
III
<br />
<br />
i
<br />
ilesanmi...
<br />
<br />
remember when you seek drunkeness at poetic shores
<br />
let angels fill your cup the bitter brews of humility
<br />
and beware of the sweet brews of pride of angelic demons...
<br />
<br />
for many men puke poetry pours with the stench of pride
<br />
and clothe in the mad yeast of their poetic puff puff
<br />
<br />
remember...poetry is humble and sane...
<br />
<br />
ii
<br />
<br />
remember...poetry is true...
<br />
let your poetry spill truth to truthful truth to lying lies...
<br />
<br />
when you grow wings of poesy
<br />
let your wings intertwine humble wings
<br />
for in the kindness of poets...you shall soar heights
<br />
<br />
and please tell me
<br />
when my poetry exudes not the prides of humility...
<br />
<br />
IV
<br />
<br />
i
<br />
<br />
ilesanmi...
<br />
<br />
vibrations ride the corridors of my veins
<br />
and have denied my pupils the meal of sleep...
<br />
<br />
a drunkard of words nurses a thirsty thirst
<br />
a constant thirst bound in the deep waters of words
<br />
<br />
look closely and read the dance of my quill
<br />
and score the music played by my flaming fingers.<br />
<br />
ii
<br />
<br />
i write myself lines of lights
<br />
for brightness in my springs of darkness...
<br />
<br />
when dark days may want to roam my sanity<br />
and make my nibs wander
<br />
in the ink of attractive ghouls in strange thoughts
<br />
<br />
hear this today and learn
<br />
a poet's time wheels have dark days and very many...
<br />
<br />
V
<br />
<br />
i
<br />
<br />
ilesanmi...
<br />
<br />
shall we stand a minute silence...
<br />
for the death of vowels and consonants of lines
<br />
<br />
the lines of poesy that bloomed under the moon
<br />
and withered at the brightness of dawn
<br />
<br />
shall we stand a minute silence...<br />
may their muse return if possible.
<br />
<br />
ii
<br />
<br />
when lines shall bloom your stem of poesy
<br />
find the patience to engrave on pure leaves
<br />
<br />
for they are like roamings of grieved ghosts<br />
panting for rest in nibs and paradise rooms on leaves...
<br />
<br />
they are like slimy dreams
<br />
and in neglect slither away and die too soon...
<br />
<br />
shall we stand a minute silence...for lost lines...
<br />
<br />
VI
<br />
<br />
i
<br />
<br />
ilesanmi...
<br />
<br />
i write from a depth of emptiness
<br />
the emptiness of life...<br />
<br />
the emptiness i have found within the self of myself
<br />
the emptiness craves...calling for creation...
<br />
<br />
do you know?
<br />
poetry creates fine rhythms on void notes...
<br />
<br />
ii
<br />
<br />
when you gavel poetry on the slab of creation
<br />
let it be on the mines of empty notes<br />
for in emptiness you shall find rhythms...
<br />
<br />
fine rhythms of light...luminous paths
<br />
in the corridors of darkness...
<br />
<br />
let not your rhythms lie on faltering scales...
<br />
<br />
VII
<br />
i
<br />
<br />
ilesanmi...
<br />
<br />
a poet is a metaphor of spontaneous feelings
<br />
heavily vast into the lightness of every thoughtful weave
<br />
the weaves in the wools of words...
<br />
<br />
a poet’s wealth is not in the treasury of mints
<br />
or the mass of accolades on the cliffs of fame...
<br />
<br />
it is in the currencies of deep thoughts...
<br />
<br />
ii
<br />
<br />
a poet is a baker of poetic powders
<br />
a bowl of arts that reunites fragments of poesy...
<br />
<br />
a kiln of fine rhetoric
<br />
a spice bag of figures of speech...
<br />
<br />
a model of forms and styles...
<br />
<br />
a platter fashioned in the finesse of thoughts
<br />
on which a sumptuous poetry is served!
<br />
<br />
VIII
<br />
<br />
i
<br />
<br />
ilesanmi...
<br />
<br />
shall i not tell you?
<br />
that my head pillows on bundle of quills
<br />
and i dream nights into the wilderness of words...
<br />
<br />
the dream of a poet is a wordy sickness
<br />
a persistent urge, a waxing furnace, a thirsty thirst
<br />
<br />
a poet is a pouch of words...
<br />
<br />
ii
<br />
<br />
when words steal you far into the woods of poetry
<br />
hunt deep and trap your nibs rich games
<br />
fat meats for now and decades to come...
<br />
<br />
refuse not the desire to get lost
<br />
and trouble not your mind for your find
<br />
<br />
words do find words
<br />
your poetry shall find you again...
<br />
<br />
IX
<br />
<br />
i<br />
<br />
ilesanmi...
<br />
<br />
when poetry buds burning thoughts
<br />
on the plate of your heart
<br />
let your nibs find pure patience
<br />
and then a perfect peace...
<br />
<br />
a true bloom of poetry is plucked
<br />
in a perfect peace, patiently pure...
<br />
<br />
ii
<br />
<br />
let your flaming fingers scorch your thoughts steady
<br />
for if hasty...the words may burn to burnt...
<br />
<br />
tell me
<br />
who eats with relish a burnt poetry?
<br />
<br />
let your eyes assess the beauty of your thoughts
<br />
and if ugly...lay it at the altar of poetic priests...
<br />
<br />
for poetry must first carry the burden of beauty...
<br />
<br />
X
<br />
<br />
i
<br />
<br />
ilesanmi...
<br />
<br />
poetic strength lies not at the tip of a bottle
<br />
or in the rolls of shredded tobacco...
<br />
<br />
a poet’s might lies in his pouch of words
<br />
the heart is the pouch...
<br />
<br />
a pure poetry pours from the heart
<br />
an expression rolled in deep feelings...
<br />
<br />
ii
<br />
<br />
if your poetic pours must be pure
<br />
wean not your heart from meticulous breasts...
<br />
<br />
let your muse pour pure pours
<br />
not after the contentions for poetic crowns
<br />
or after the foolish forces of muses
<br />
a poetry forcefully brewed stinks...<br />
<br />
poetry is a feeling not forced...
<br />
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07598102067241407515noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3150812317027507766.post-66222455072488639192015-06-30T08:40:00.002-07:002015-06-30T08:43:26.603-07:00Sorrowful<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
Your eyes hold memory of sadness
<br />
I see your soul this morning
<br />
Sick with a sickness of sorrow.
<br />
<br />
Your life is a life of deep sorrow
<br />
For your smiles are not prided joys
<br />
In your sweetness lingers a great bitterness.
<br />
<br />
Your legs are not happy
<br />
I saw you dance last night
<br />
Those were not playful but painful steps.
<br />
<br />
You have pretended happiness as helps
<br />
You fought a dream a fortnight passed
<br />
You war nights to not be sleepy…
<br />
<br />
You are sad now
<br />
A look at you, a maintained frown
<br />
Your tales of delights were none.
<br />
<br />
You are just alone
<br />
Alone in the darkness of your plague
<br />
The pattern of pains is in your brow.
<br />
<br />
Your lips are pursed in revenge
<br />
You play strings of slights
<br />
And told not your story to know!
<br />
<br />
The world has become your foe
<br />
Life has been harsh and not fair
<br />
Your vengeance is a paradise pledge…
<br />
<br />
To fight with life hurts lives…
<br />
A torrent current desires no dives...
<br />
<br />
I wish I know your tale of sorrow
<br />
For your safe tomorrow…
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07598102067241407515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3150812317027507766.post-34649866360026910622015-06-27T01:57:00.003-07:002015-06-27T01:58:14.806-07:00Courtsheep<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<br />
My bed premises a bodily smile
<br />
Like a plethora of cooling breeze
<br />
Your thoughts visit my mind
<br />
Now I know I am drowning.
<br />
<br />
Better is you every leaving mile
<br />
I long for your lip-read rhythms
<br />
They tell the truth of your kind
<br />
Sweet like a fresh drawn honey.
<br />
<br />
I have refused the might to struggle
<br />
For I relish this pleasure to sink
<br />
As I remember your biding cry
<br />
When we played under the tree.
<br />
<br />
The stars are gazing at my angle
<br />
And the waft whispers words in pink
<br />
I feel my tongue three-times dry
<br />
Leaving rivulets of sweats surge free.
<br />
<br />
Your past has such chained me tight
<br />
I burn and I love the scars
<br />
And for this love found I am bound
<br />
You are not the manner of some shallow water.
<br />
<br />
In you I see my lifting flight
<br />
A prisoner behind your loving bars
<br />
Favour is in a good wife found
<br />
Such you, no war alter.
<br />
<br />
Our union is golden ringed
<br />
Our love purely felt and bought
<br />
And as we hold on the divine edge
<br />
Our nuptial someday...
<br />
<br />
Our promises are not winged
<br />
And no end to the joy of this court
<br />
Our days will thus one day merge
<br />
It begins today…</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07598102067241407515noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3150812317027507766.post-68414501654258239882015-06-25T23:11:00.002-07:002015-06-25T23:14:54.838-07:00the snake and the lass<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
i
<br />
<br />
the osculation thrusts long and deep
<br />
and a rude rod-like rising
<br />
snakes in the zippered cell…loosely!
<br />
<br />
a big tongue loses in lust in a little mouth…
<br />
<br />
then the frippery gifts…
<br />
<br />
the lass hoards her hands in fisted holds
<br />
and a coyish rage stars her eyes…
<br />
<br />
the kiss…again!
<br />
<br />
ii
<br />
<br />
it is not new
<br />
the story in the penny pamphlet
<br />
<br />
‘uncle kisses her from cradle…
<br />
his nice nature comes in kisses’
<br />
<br />
ask my curious cheeks of the stinging slaps
<br />
in thundering thuds of a hand of fury
<br />
<br />
once beaten twice shy…
<br />
<br />
i mute uncle’s kisses and beyond kisses…
<br />
<br />
iii
<br />
<br />
and today that she turns sweet sixteen
<br />
her gown is drenched in a ruddy stream
<br />
<br />
a cutter shimmers clutched in her hand
<br />
drowned in a baptism of blood
<br />
<br />
a naked testicle in bloody spurts
<br />
drops to an unheard beats of agony
<br />
<br />
and a noisy silence seals the seeking ears
<br />
<br />
‘mother, i cut the snake today!’ she groans…!
<br />
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07598102067241407515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3150812317027507766.post-8111356915259524982015-06-25T03:38:00.002-07:002015-06-25T03:51:11.904-07:00silent words<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
i
<br />
silent words are whips
<br />
they singe too...
<br />
<br />
mother has them in her looks
<br />
and in the flicks of her index finger
<br />
<br />
i remember…how she had looked…
<br />
<br />
and lashed the legions in my coveting eyes
<br />
counting the visitor’s morsels…
<br />
<br />
how her index finger
<br />
<br />
had made me wet my pants
<br />
when I mounted the horns of disobedience…
<br />
<br />
ii
<br />
<br />
silent words are bladed fangs
<br />
they cut deep too…
<br />
<br />
jane, the orphan, has it in her tears
<br />
and in the gasps of her sobs…
<br />
<br />
i remember how at her tears
<br />
<br />
my heart melted…
<br />
and a snowy love froze my steaming blood<br />
<br />
chilled my manly pride…
<br />
and cut me into flickering fragments…
<br />
<br />
her sobs tethered my wrongs in remorseful twines.
<br />
<br />
iii
<br />
<br />
my wife is lost to the paws of infidelity
<br />
<br />
she covets…flirts with the testicles of tycoons
<br />
and mounts the horns of disobedience
<br />
<br />
i have got the looks of mother
<br />
the flicks in her index finger
<br />
<br />
the tears of jane and the gasps in her sobs
<br />
<br />
i will lash, wet her pants
<br />
melt her heart ….cut her deep
<br />
tether her wrongs in remorseful twines…
<br />
<br />
and gain her back on the pyre of silent words!
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07598102067241407515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3150812317027507766.post-562438445165993462015-06-23T23:19:00.002-07:002015-06-24T00:31:27.201-07:00arise O grains<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
i
<br />
<br />
the grain sacks shed tears of emptiness
<br />
their heads drop in pathetic folds
<br />
<br />
the gluttons are the green caterpillars
<br />
eaters without replenish…
<br />
<br />
and the keen hoes at the corner
<br />
are blunt from rusty whet
<br />
<br />
the land groans in the groins
<br />
from the grips of callous and ruthless roots…<br />
<br />
and now hunger umpires<br />
the lawns of our bowels…
<br />
<br />
ii
<br />
<br />
they leave the house barren
<br />
and cart away the seed of hope in the barn…
<br />
<br />
alas! their breeds of white fowls
<br />
are concealed leeches of lies
<br />
<br />
they plant debts… grains of debts
<br />
a canker for the aging baba
<br />
<br />
they have plagued baba’s hunt
<br />
a decoy for the games of change…
<br />
<br />
dennis, things happen in this wilderness
<br />
vines die and the caterpillars live…
<br />
<br />
<br />
iii
<br />
<br />
baba has shaken the sacks
<br />
and here it is…
<br />
<br />
the last cup of grains…
<br />
<br />
and this must suffice
<br />
for mother and ‘wazobia’<br />
<br />
shall we soak this in the water of hope?
<br />
<br />
and sing ‘arise O grains’
<br />
to the beats of these hopeless spoons
<br />
<br />
for the soaked grains must rise
<br />
to be enough for all.
<br />
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07598102067241407515noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3150812317027507766.post-1430160774331949412015-06-23T00:14:00.003-07:002016-04-27T11:49:42.457-07:00The Little Man<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<br />
The Little Man<br />
<br />
There is a care in the illiterate mind<br />
Who sells pepper and salt<br />
For food on the king's table<br />
The elixirs to the pangs of starvation.<br />
<br />
The monger sells fish fresh and fried<br />
A lover of fish and the stench insult<br />
For meals delectable<br />
A relish lend for man's consumption.<br />
<br />
What of the bald and simple butcher?<br />
Who has learnt the ways of meat<br />
He oozes the smell of dung<br />
For teeth hails and chewing prides.<br />
<br />
The cobbler on his dock's stretcher<br />
Saves soles to mend and to knit<br />
He sweats between the whistles of a song<br />
For feet in giant strides.<br />
<br />
The young seamstress in the corner<br />
Stitches clothes' wears and tears<br />
For fads of newness and time<br />
That beckon the eyes of admiration and envy.<br />
<br />
The love of the bus driver and owner<br />
Who serves lives and dares road fears<br />
He beats distance at speed and prime<br />
For destinations at an unworthy levy.<br />
<br />
The mechanic dexterity and sacrifices<br />
Who desires dark paints and oils<br />
Lends therapy to auto sickness<br />
Aids to waiting legs and hope.<br />
<br />
The news in the vendors' hands and orifices<br />
Printed-balm for knowledge-thirsty boils<br />
Crossing in swifts… painless<br />
For a penny newspaper to live and cope.<br />
<br />
Should we around in fancy suit<br />
Judge and plague their lives with guilt?<br />
<br />
Should not the little man<br />
Be worthy of respect and a look of human?<br />
<br />
Should we not hail them shoulder high<br />
And pelt not their choices with a terrible sigh?<br />
<br />
The little man maybe prone to repel<br />
He is our dome and survival temple.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07598102067241407515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3150812317027507766.post-1217847263037005132015-06-22T14:52:00.002-07:002015-06-22T14:55:10.298-07:00The Piano (Mirror Sestet)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
Intro
<br />
<br />
Bliss of breeze gusted in the open air
<br />
Air misty lodged in nightly beauty bliss
<br />
Ahead raced eerie echoes of darkness
<br />
Darkness scared of the sun partner waxing ahead
<br />
Alone I breathed a lone sole
<br />
Sole with the piano alone.
<br />
<br />
Do
<br />
<br />
Chords stormed the aura floating
<br />
Floating rhythms in the cuddles of chords
<br />
Slowly -told soothing mild melodies
<br />
Melodies in bright beauties lying slowly
<br />
On keen keynotes in bold blacks
<br />
Blacks nurtured in flat whites switched-on.
<br />
<br />
Re
<br />
<br />
Fingers fled in controlled crescendos
<br />
Crescendos tunes mystical dipped in fingers
<br />
I remembered our first day…
<br />
Day one of our hearty stitch, you and I…
<br />
Accidents ran amidst the blacks and the…
<br />
The keys reminded the pinching pains and accidents.
<br />
<br />
Mi
<br />
<br />
Sustained rumbling dwelt on mighty strikes
<br />
Strikes of the bass line in a fainted sustained
<br />
Of wars in the minds of warriors
<br />
Warrior’s dreams are no less made of
<br />
Fated life or death, victory certain uncertain
<br />
Uncertain certain victory, death or life fated.
<br />
<br />
Fa
<br />
<br />
Soft touch breezed in a strange silence
<br />
Silence strings dual and soft
<br />
Peace fueled my confused spirited loss
<br />
Loss of comfort in mutual bones for peace
<br />
Clustered vibrations lulled fainted sounds
<br />
Sounds skillfully clustered.
<br />
<br />
So
<br />
<br />
Hasty fingers stole into my thoughtful forte
<br />
Forte of a wounded life, restless and hasty
<br />
Tears flowed and trailed the soul beats
<br />
Beats protruded with itching tears
<br />
And I cried in wails
<br />
Wails melded in reverberating notes and …
<br />
<br />
La
<br />
<br />
Thoughts of mother culled in calmed notes
<br />
Notes cascading in pools of throbbing thoughts
<br />
Softly on watered dreams and fantasies
<br />
Fantasies staggering in rhythms softly
<br />
Sad arpeggios scaled in broken octaves
<br />
Octaves twisted sour and sad.
<br />
<br />
Ti
<br />
<br />
Allegros melds grew wild and fine
<br />
Fine andantes flattened the chords in allegros
<br />
Escaped clefs painted my visions
<br />
Visions past, once bound and escaped
<br />
Again, in rhythms of reveries lost
<br />
Lost to start fresh and again.
<br />
<br />
Do
<br />
<br />
Chords stormed the aura floating
<br />
Floating rhythm in the cuddles of chords
<br />
Slowly -told soothing mild melodies
<br />
Melodies in bright beauties lying slowly
<br />
On keen keynotes in bold blacks
<br />
Blacks nurtured in flat whites switched-on.
<br />
<br />
End
<br />
<br />
Slippery keys plagued my played end
<br />
End of the music slimy and slippery
<br />
Left in a bloated clouds of moods
<br />
Moods switches on the right and the left
<br />
Leaving me and the haunted surges
<br />
Surges singeing my cowardly leaving.
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07598102067241407515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3150812317027507766.post-76325388040534388612015-06-21T23:16:00.001-07:002015-06-21T23:38:37.653-07:00the guitar<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
i<br />
<br />
my ears catch a tingle on music<br />
from the cascade of rhythmical springs
<br />
the springs of right rhythms…
<br />
<br />
but ….these are dirges
<br />
and the eyes are out of water…
<br />
<br />
ten fingers shed their wails
<br />
in rusty springy tears
<br />
a gaped cry from a gaped box
<br />
<br />
the lips are stripped of mourn…
<br />
<br />
ii
<br />
<br />
i hear the songs of the greedy rich…
<br />
and the blood of wild wickedness
<br />
<br />
how they summoned the king
<br />
to punish and kill poor ilesanmi
<br />
for he sniffed the aroma of their lousy lots…
<br />
<br />
how they had and had
<br />
and had the added add
<br />
that had not been had…
<br />
<br />
the green greediness in our hood.
<br />
<br />
iii
<br />
<br />
the rhythms fret a memory
<br />
flying in my moody mind…
<br />
<br />
these clustering of chords
<br />
hearse the coffin of iya alaro
<br />
<br />
the woman who warred for change…
<br />
<br />
and change did not do
<br />
the deed to be done to do
<br />
the deed that she did done the deed for.<br />
<br />
our constant dream and disappointment…
<br />
<br />
iv
<br />
<br />
then silence…
<br />
and a rumbling stormy strums
<br />
<br />
i hear the bitter sobs of adunni
<br />
the needle without thread…the belle
<br />
<br />
who wedded and wounded in the web
<br />
<br />
she was the lost loss
<br />
lost to the lost loss
<br />
that was already lost.
<br />
<br />
Our persistent passionately fine folly…
<br />
<br />
v
<br />
<br />
i hear fainted notes<br />
<br />
and now deadness
<br />
in springy cuts and breaks
<br />
<br />
i lend a lengthy belch
<br />
from the feed of the food of sorrow
<br />
<br />
what ends the end
<br />
of the ending end
<br />
that ends the all of all ends<br />
<br />
our candidacy in the scroll of time and death…
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07598102067241407515noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3150812317027507766.post-35371958468622154562015-06-20T10:26:00.002-07:002015-06-20T11:44:43.525-07:00the wood insect<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
i
<br />
<br />
the cock crows and i am up
<br />
i take up my regalia of poetry
<br />
washed and dried in the rainbow’s glitz
<br />
<br />
i chew on sticks of lines
<br />
and my spits there…are dancing symbols
<br />
<br />
i pick them with flaming fingers
<br />
and engrave the slimy soothing sizzling
<br />
on patient leaves…
<br />
<br />
ii
<br />
<br />
see them…
<br />
<br />
looks under envy heavy eyes
<br />
eyes of venomous incantations
<br />
<br />
they want to burn my poetry coat…
<br />
<br />
they lip noiseless mutterings
<br />
pulses to make my poetry pride putrid
<br />
<br />
they do not know...<br />
<br />
my muse malady is incurable.
<br />
<br />
iii
<br />
<br />
who says there is a cure?
<br />
for the wood insect that gathers sticks…
<br />
<br />
i am the wood insect
<br />
and this poetry is my burden…
<br />
<br />
if I lie, ask abeni…
<br />
who sells poetry in the market…
<br />
<br />
doutbing temeduns…come your bloating eyes
<br />
i have poetry scars to damp your dirty doubts.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07598102067241407515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3150812317027507766.post-9095731827290509012015-06-19T07:52:00.000-07:002015-06-19T12:04:58.812-07:00Father<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<br />
i
<br />
<br />
if my pen soars<br />
into the blue yonder …vast
<br />
and my cloudy bursts of famed rains
<br />
will soon be willed to demons…
<br />
<br />
if this madness runs
<br />
in the veins of lines maestros…
<br />
<br />
this madness of man made God
<br />
<br />
take it from me…
<br />
<br />
ii
<br />
<br />
if this wordy prowess and power
<br />
corrupts to worship one
<br />
a demigod…
<br />
<br />
and mislead many…
<br />
<br />
if this pen
<br />
bleeds lines vacant in your bid
<br />
if it is this pen…
<br />
<br />
i will be okay with You without the pen
<br />
<br />
take it from me …
<br />
<br />
iii
<br />
<br />
if these feathers in poetic estuary
<br />
held within my flaming fingers
<br />
<br />
will soon…Father…
<br />
<br />
drift into the fame of dark ink…
<br />
and bring me dreams of greedy ghouls
<br />
<br />
save me
<br />
be in my dreams<br />
<br />
and this pen…
<br />
<br />
take it from me.
<br />
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07598102067241407515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3150812317027507766.post-10932106875787784732015-06-16T08:32:00.003-07:002015-06-16T08:32:23.837-07:00Miser<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
i
<br />
The Friend
<br />
Lakasegbe, is a generous
<br />
Friend in deed and indeed!
<br />
He gets six scores of eggs
<br />
And gives me two…
<br />
He stingily begs my stunned
<br />
For I do shower him my kindness
<br />
He is a generous selfishness.
<br />
ii
<br />
The Wife
<br />
Bose tells tales
<br />
Of his unkind kindness
<br />
He buys her nothing
<br />
But baggy words of brags…
<br />
He tells her of me
<br />
And the two eggs he gives…
<br />
But not the six scores…
<br />
iii
<br />
The Children
<br />
The children averse him with love
<br />
He promised toys
<br />
He buys the effigy of Moremi
<br />
The African toy of the Wonder woman…
<br />
He buys cheap scary effigies
<br />
His version of frugality…
<br />
What toy is in effigies?
<br />
iv
<br />
Denouement
<br />
I have kept two eggs for him
<br />
His rainy days come soon…
<br />
Bola is packed to pack
<br />
What husband is in a greedy miser?
<br />
The children pray in their silence
<br />
His speedy demise in a wild Amen
<br />
May his punisher be brutally generous.
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07598102067241407515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3150812317027507766.post-70263141108603751312015-06-12T02:50:00.001-07:002015-06-20T05:14:03.082-07:00My Love <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
I
<br />
Hold my hand and let us run
<br />
Swiftly in this pure rude ruddy sun
<br />
And trap sparkling dreams in cloudy blue
<br />
Calling me and you.
<br />
<br />
We can sit here on the cold sand bar
<br />
And search the sky for the fainted star
<br />
The seal of our doting binds
<br />
Watching us behind the whitish blinds.
<br />
<br />
Can you hear the calling echoes?
<br />
Telling tales of our falling foes
<br />
The eyes of envy on our fostered penchant
<br />
Blinded for ever like a greedy merchant
<br />
<br />
Let us not hide in shades of nights
<br />
Where lay tempting wrongs in ghostly rights
<br />
The light shining there is our friend
<br />
To keep our love firm to the end.
<br />
<br />
Now, my nose sniffs a rosy scent
<br />
As your head wafts a hairy rent
<br />
I wish your hair grow in my hand
<br />
As we race the nuptial island.
<br />
<br />
Shall we rove far and wide?
<br />
Laugh tinkling jokes as we glide
<br />
Close our eyes into the silent within
<br />
And whet the ardour blooming.
<br />
<br />
In your eyes are coals of diamonds
<br />
I desire decades in their bonds
<br />
I am not a man of treasure…
<br />
Forever with you is my pleasure.
<br />
<br />
II
<br />
<br />
Show me your heart
<br />
I will tread with caution its path
<br />
They call me the gentle man
<br />
And in you I see a gentle woman.
<br />
<br />
Here, in my heart, tryst
<br />
My soul is void of the manly beast
<br />
I shall keep you unscarred
<br />
For our love is sacred.
<br />
<br />
Would you smile?
<br />
If I am gone for food far into the mile
<br />
Promise me, would you?
<br />
Without, life is without clue.
<br />
<br />
Would you give me your grief?
<br />
That we could both cry to relief
<br />
That I may find strength
<br />
That you may find breath…
<br />
<br />
Come, let us nude
<br />
Forgive me, this unintended lewd
<br />
I seek not the strip of clothes
<br />
But the past drowned in loathes.
<br />
<br />
Should we not our careless past
<br />
Unhidden and nakedly cast?
<br />
For there is no future built
<br />
On a ground miry with guilt.
<br />
<br />
Whisper into my sickly seeking ears
<br />
Sweet words I had sought for years
<br />
And in the streams of this grey light
<br />
Love, be in my dreams tonight.
<br />
<br />
III
<br />
<br />
Lost from the orb in the firmament
<br />
Sparkles of rays pinned your garment
<br />
Obsessed in a flood of fun
<br />
For your charm is a sunny pun.
<br />
<br />
I see a place in the crux of your heart
<br />
Furnished in a special craft and art
<br />
A throne fashioned in the hue of love
<br />
And a crown in the feathers of a dove
<br />
<br />
I feel something trace the rails in my bones
<br />
These tributary of crude hormones
<br />
Luring burning lustful essence
<br />
Please, bind me with cuffs of patience.
<br />
<br />
I am a man and potent
<br />
Yet, I desire this libido ace latent
<br />
Till my love for you is ringed
<br />
We shall copulate closely winged.
<br />
<br />
Shall I ask?
<br />
Find not my sought answer a task
<br />
For I perspire a fear…
<br />
Your love only can take care.
<br />
<br />
When lost to the curiosity that befalls men
<br />
Would you my heart grave with the love pen?
<br />
Would you forgive my manly errs?
<br />
And gift me to wisdom, forever hers…<br />
<br />
If I dance to the music of anger
<br />
Would you pilot this love a safe hangar?
<br />
When you find not in me an angel
<br />
Would you save me from the fists of hell?
<br />
<br />
IV
<br />
<br />
I fear looms of disappointments
<br />
For my muse holds hidden in selfish moments
<br />
I sweat in my roam for worthy inspiration
<br />
Could I be broken of words for your adoration?
<br />
<br />
Restless fingers riot my trembling strands
<br />
And I feel a lump growth in my ardent glands
<br />
The rhythmical breeze laps me a scorching coldness
<br />
It is your voice wrapped in a whispering Goodness.
<br />
<br />
Love, I find not my passion on beds of books
<br />
It is here in your eyes, in beautiful rosy looks
<br />
My bondage embraces a timely loose
<br />
And there, in a staunch smile, lies my muse.
<br />
<br />
We will fly away somewhere far and safe
<br />
In twiny wings from this world of pain and grief
<br />
Last night, you called me your father
<br />
I fetched relief that I have got in you a mother.
<br />
<br />
I shall bring you soulful beats of ardour
<br />
Anklets on your fine feet to adore
<br />
I know the wield of dance in space
<br />
Ask… They know me well in the market place.
<br />
<br />
This love of ours is fine and faceless
<br />
Shall we go blind blinder and remain flawless?
<br />
Season not this race with games
<br />
And char not these feelings in fleeing flames.<br />
<br />
We shall camp at the shoulder of the ocean
<br />
And draw its sweetness to ease our tension
<br />
At the peak of my hearty castle
<br />
I shall sing of your love to the windy whistle.
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07598102067241407515noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3150812317027507766.post-84702830449716728132015-06-08T02:30:00.003-07:002015-06-08T02:36:04.331-07:00S.S.S<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
i
<br />
<br />
Sweet soothing death…
<br />
<br />
Come one, come all
<br />
Buy sweet soothing death
<br />
<br />
Come one, come all
<br />
Buy sweet soothing death…
<br />
<br />
Be warned!
<br />
You may die young…
<br />
<br />
ii
<br />
<br />
Bode testified of his testimony
<br />
His graduation was very quick
<br />
<br />
He smoked paper
<br />
Smoked a smoke
<br />
Wielded the wrapped weed!
<br />
<br />
His fine future…ruined!
<br />
Ruined in weedy whistling puffs …
<br />
<br />
iii
<br />
Tade
<br />
Smoked to read
<br />
<br />
Smoked to sing
<br />
Smoked to act
<br />
<br />
He loved the sweet soothing smoke
<br />
<br />
And met madness …
<br />
In madness, he smoked madly
<br />
<br />
He kicked mortality.
<br />
<br />
iv
<br />
<br />
The smoke seller’s son…
<br />
Lamori was very young
<br />
<br />
He took the sweet soothing smoke
<br />
And died very young…
<br />
<br />
She neither stopped the sold
<br />
She traded the lives of his friends
<br />
<br />
Sold them the sweet soothing smoke
<br />
Her way to avenge her son…
<br />
<br />
v
<br />
<br />
And after this commercial,
<br />
A bold irony slapped my face …
<br />
<br />
‘The Federal Ministry of Health warns!
<br />
Smokers are liable to die young…’
<br />
<br />
What a fiscal embrace of death?
<br />
<br />
A brutal slain of health
<br />
On a balance weight of choice…!
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07598102067241407515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3150812317027507766.post-24018736388024203082015-06-06T03:00:00.002-07:002015-06-06T16:00:43.743-07:00OBSEQUISE<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
In this moonlight milky mood
<br />
I penned my brood…
<br />
<br />
The wailing hearse cried a slowed silence
<br />
Pent–up petrifaction brewed in blurred draught
<br />
And the dawn shaded a dark attendance
<br />
The chronometer ticked for the last respect.
<br />
<br />
The casket carved a lucid opulence
<br />
A waft of affluence smoked the heavy draft
<br />
Restless crave, tears and the coffin acrobatic dance
<br />
Hungry hasty eyes eyed the torso death pecked.
<br />
<br />
His living rest was a broken bed and bed-bugs
<br />
The house he lived was a poverty chance-
<br />
The children railed far to return on his rust
<br />
And it came to pass…His time…
<br />
<br />
In couture, lavender soaked laid the corpse
<br />
Such fads were scarce for his appearance
<br />
When he had his breath in his wrinkled dust
<br />
But now, it is his gathered grime.
<br />
<br />
They wept…They must weep the weeps
<br />
In pure pretence of pity and nugatory nods
<br />
How they loved him to have gone…
<br />
Their prided shame beyond the clouds…
<br />
<br />
The dust was thrown in petulant peeps
<br />
What a life of odds?
<br />
There, are the sons’ sons who neared not his sun
<br />
Attired in ‘ADIEU BABA’ amidst the crowds…
<br />
<br />
Life goes on! Life must just go on
<br />
On the meadows of feasting tarpaulins
<br />
Finger flicks flaunted fresh minty fragrance
<br />
On faces lighted with strange happiness.
<br />
<br />
Praises of the rich son
<br />
For the deceased face, did the runnings
<br />
For the casket bought from France
<br />
And the rare gem laded from River Ganges.
<br />
<br />
Mouths munched meaty pieces a many
<br />
But the cadaver had just a plate and a spoon
<br />
The cassava grain was his saving grace
<br />
And the sanctified groundnuts in the lepers’ wood
<br />
<br />
He was not remembered for a penny
<br />
How come the strange bounty at his full moon?
<br />
Food and plates in amazing displays
<br />
Lost into the abyss of human hood.
<br />
<br />
And it all ended…
<br />
As sundry and all returned
<br />
Neat and drunk for the libation of the dead
<br />
Here once lived is once desolate.
<br />
<br />
Why these heads wrongly headed?
<br />
Why cared only when dust is turned?
<br />
For the breath that borne their born and bred
<br />
Why celebrate neglected exit in glorious plate?
<br />
<br />
In this sunlight shone, shining soon
<br />
I shall birth my brood…</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07598102067241407515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3150812317027507766.post-66744432845223599452015-06-05T23:12:00.001-07:002015-06-06T02:34:46.910-07:00AYA WA (OUR WIFE)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<br />
i
<br />
Alade got a wife…
<br />
<br />
His first meal was a peppery furnace
<br />
Burnt his tongue and bruised his lips…
<br />
<br />
He ate with a strange joy
<br />
Mix of anguish, mix of hate
<br />
Mix of anger, mix of love…
<br />
<br />
He chews on the sticks of doom
<br />
His Mrs Fortune is a misfortune …
<br />
His mother met him
<br />
And SCREAMED!
<br />
<br />
ii
<br />
Alade is now a phantom
<br />
He is thinner than thin
<br />
His wife is a woman of noodles…
<br />
<br />
A cook of surprises,
<br />
Terrible in surprising cuisines
<br />
<br />
Alade wants a real meal
<br />
Like the poetry dishes
<br />
Of Adewale, the Poetry chef…
<br />
<br />
Alade is hung on a suicidal hunger
<br />
His teeth dance to a deadly starvation
<br />
<br />
iii
<br />
<br />
She pursued the stars in dreams
<br />
In the garment of black and white…
<br />
<br />
She despised the little stars
<br />
That makes a woman for a man…
<br />
<br />
A man’s heart is the stomach!
<br />
<br />
She is the paradox in vogue
<br />
A bad cook is enough
<br />
To spoil the broth…!
<br />
<br />
Alade remembers Amuda
<br />
Amuda, the charm and the cook…
<br />
<br />
iv
<br />
Alade is known
<br />
Master of all refectories…
<br />
<br />
Alade wanted Amuda
<br />
Only that she has no class…
<br />
<br />
She…Mis-fortune
<br />
Has the class but not the pass…
<br />
<br />
The pass to his heart…
<br />
<br />
And today that the cleaner eloped
<br />
With her fears of food and poison
<br />
His wife could not sweep!
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07598102067241407515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3150812317027507766.post-30659811015153263102015-06-04T00:05:00.001-07:002015-06-05T23:10:10.365-07:00Let's Ponder a Little<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I
<br />
I know my thoughts came up again
<br />
Like the rush of a heavy a rain
<br />
My finger tips swollen with symbols
<br />
Drained in paints of inspired constructs.<br />
<br />
I have heard of a poison bought cheaply
<br />
And killed in a twinkle twinkled twinkly
<br />
The songs of a massacre done
<br />
Of many men under this sun.
<br />
<br />
I have seen death bodily bottled
<br />
Inherently laden and mottled
<br />
Ten times macabre
<br />
In abandon and without care.
<br />
<br />
I know a company of bush meats
<br />
That roams in pride and strange feats
<br />
I know of the dread of a disease
<br />
That has crowned many their lives to cease.
<br />
<br />
I have heard of a prostitutes’ notification
<br />
Stripped of their personification
<br />
An animalized synonymy
<br />
‘BUSH MEATS ACADEMY’
<br />
<br />
I have seen the beasts in men
<br />
Like the draught in lions’ den
<br />
Many out of many
<br />
Dry wells without comfort any.
<br />
<br />
I know of the husbands’ experience
<br />
Where anger holds their manly evidence
<br />
Too hot to control their fisting prowess
<br />
A cowardly way to husbandly express.
<br />
<br />
I have heard the sheer foolishness in beauty
<br />
That robs off a woman’s intellectual quality
<br />
And the integrity in ‘Iwalewa’
<br />
What then is beauty polished every hour?
<br />
<br />
I have seen beautiful Agbeke chew her husband
<br />
And dashing Abike throw the food with one hand
<br />
The noise of Orekelewa Aduke has woken me
<br />
My standby alarm every early morning.
<br />
<br />
II
<br />
<br />
I know of a weep become wept
<br />
And wishes that are unfaithfully kept
<br />
I know of the sense in ‘life goes on’
<br />
Hatched in all being said and done.
<br />
<br />
I have heard the dead cry over a dead
<br />
A cry…a wail that seem not an end
<br />
And then music, laughter and a feast
<br />
For death had come and passed.
<br />
<br />
I have seen a joy quietly shared<br />
And a loud joy that smelled snared
<br />
I have seen sorrows, celebrated
<br />
And a sorrow not planted, harvested.
<br />
<br />
I know a brief smile that means much<br />
And a loud laughter that meant not such
<br />
The cry display of the guilty that is pitied
<br />
And the dried eyes of an innocent thought-speech-tried.
<br />
<br />
I have heard of a lie end in a pilfer essence
<br />
And a truth ridiculed by a lie preference
<br />
The works that boast in darkness
<br />
And the victory that wields in the light lens.
<br />
<br />
I have seen friendly likes of the palm oil hands
<br />
And at a finger bleed jumped to other lands
<br />
The love expensively attractive
<br />
And the one without class tagged repulsive.
<br />
<br />
I know of a repented young-witch<br />
That erased not her call of an old- witch.
<br />
The shameful tales of innocent Mary
<br />
In the business of many men taste before marry.
<br />
<br />
I have heard of the stupidity in chasing two rats-live
<br />
And a patient kill that tolled more than five
<br />
The hunger in the face of a sumptuous meal
<br />
That a low-class meal can heal.
<br />
<br />
I have seen Corper Kunle hunts around
<br />
With his dangling bell every virgin on ground
<br />
And Dauda, the soldier, that loves his gun
<br />
He scares the old and shoots the young on the run.
<br />
<br />
III
<br />
<br />
I know of the pity of a man who had bare-foot issues
<br />
Got some and still wants more shoes
<br />
The good of good luck with some odd
<br />
Forgetting the cast crying patience in there is God!
<br />
<br />
I have heard orifices of a promise edifice broken
<br />
The bad nut sugar- coated in a ‘Burger’ token
<br />
The slander of the cassava grains of unhealthy gains
<br />
To procure a plate of rice, sweaty and full of pains.
<br />
<br />
I have seen the joy in a pot of stew shared<br />
The poverty that abides in a fisted hand
<br />
The tears in an earn, guiltily amassed
<br />
And the blessing in pure proceeds, amazingly laced.
<br />
<br />
I know the fierce flight of the mother hen
<br />
That nurtures the chicks to independent men
<br />
The news of the ducklings’ murder
<br />
At the unconcerned sight of the mother.
<br />
<br />
I have heard of the poison in small gossips
<br />
And the crime in the uncouth lips
<br />
The venom in the killer tongue
<br />
Captured in the very utters of the wrong.
<br />
<br />
I have seen a mad enjoyment in a song
<br />
Meaningless, loud and supposedly lyrically long
<br />
The celebration in the vogues of lewd
<br />
Where many and more are deathly lured.
<br />
<br />
I know of a tale not told
<br />
Etched newly like a strange cold
<br />
I know of a battery of shame
<br />
Spreading like an opened flame.
<br />
<br />
I have heard of ‘Ikun’ and sweet bananas
<br />
And the healing taste in the bitter leaves
<br />
The danger in a liberty forcefully obtained
<br />
The patient dog and fattest bone gained.
<br />
<br />
I have seen young Malomo drive a lorry
<br />
And ten year- old Dauda writing a bike story
<br />
Graduate Charles’ commitment to frauds and drugs
<br />
And Ayedade, a now- breeding -grounds for thugs.
<br />
<br />
IV
<br />
<br />
I know the pure greed in old men’s pouch
<br />
And the youthful silenced hunch
<br />
The old men are drunk with power
<br />
And the youth run for a bouquet of flower.
<br />
<br />
I have heard of an uncompromised testimony
<br />
And a clear reject of corruption in a bribe of money
<br />
The pleasure in evils done in the closets
<br />
And the deceitful share of holiness baskets.
<br />
<br />
I have seen the pride in the parents’ eyes
<br />
Of a well trained future in all wise
<br />
And a grave and an unnamed sorrow
<br />
When profits vacate the throne of a tomorrow.
<br />
<br />
I know of the Saturday’s clamour
<br />
And a pure shame of honour
<br />
The backyard neighbour’s constant tussle
<br />
The man and his fat wife’s hustle and bustle.
<br />
<br />
I have heard of the creativity in a beat
<br />
Such that the head is caught up in the heat
<br />
The sweat that goes into the defeat of a giant
<br />
And the celebration in a succeeded fight.
<br />
<br />
I have seen the silent killer in lonely days
<br />
That everybody needs somebody pays
<br />
The peaceful tears shed for the left of a voyage
<br />
And the favour in a right partner advantage<br />
<br />
I know of the song in the face of a sweetened meal<br />
And the pretence preference of an over spiced cereal
<br />
The lashing whips of a deadly hunger
<br />
Like the noose of a criminal hanger.
<br />
<br />
I have heard of the fall in the garment of pride
<br />
A smooth lane of a great fallen ride
<br />
The friends, humility can conceive
<br />
The floods of blessings a lowly heart can receive.
<br />
<br />
I have seen Aduke make friends with the witch
<br />
She is now fearless and can cause a twitch
<br />
Young Yemisi has got a promiscuity purse
<br />
And our generation is such blessed with a curse.
<br />
<br />
V
<br />
<br />
I know of the sweetness of repose after labour
<br />
And the danger of rest that steals honour
<br />
The vacancy of peace in a bed’s finest
<br />
And the true ‘rest in peace’ in the place of final rest.
<br />
<br />
I have heard of the loot done in a hurry
<br />
Decorated in a plagued pleasure and a strange glory
<br />
The grace of contentment harnessed duly
<br />
And the myriads of blessings it brings truly.
<br />
<br />
I have seen life at the tip of a well stringed rhythm
<br />
And an outpour of grace in an inspired hymn
<br />
The bores in a careless stringed-strike
<br />
Oozing an offensive stomached dislike.
<br />
<br />
I know of the essence in time
<br />
And each second is worth a dime
<br />
The disgrace in how time flies
<br />
In the place a dead man lies.
<br />
<br />
I have heard of the love of a false tale
<br />
And the hate of truth that desired not a hail
<br />
The celebration of an embroidered lie
<br />
That welcomes an exclaimed “Chai”
<br />
<br />
I have seen the bloody hunger of the flea
<br />
And the desperate thirst of the dry tree
<br />
The shared jealousy of many women
<br />
And the colossal stinginess in many men.
<br />
<br />
I know of a joke tagged expensive
<br />
Not at a cost but in the light of offensive
<br />
The one that is called comedy
<br />
And brings a deep tragedy a remedy.
<br />
<br />
I have heard tongues of deceits
<br />
Of feat-posed show of defeats
<br />
The loud trumpets of mockery
<br />
And the beautiful dance in misery.
<br />
<br />
I have seen Mara’s beautiful imperfection
<br />
Ugly Chioma harbour of inherent beautification
<br />
The celebrated profession of lewdness of Saint Janet
<br />
And Omo Ole’fo plague us an unsafe planet.
<br />
<br />
<br />
VI
<br />
<br />
I know how to smile
<br />
To shame the taste of bile
<br />
I am dying to live
<br />
In the garment of humility and love to give.
<br />
<br />
I have heard of the true thirst help
<br />
It is in the purest of a water drip
<br />
Shot down in cloudy stringed bow
<br />
Showers of a divinely liquid arrow.
<br />
<br />
I have seen a dream fight
<br />
In a dark dread and fearful fright
<br />
The one ended in a glorious victory
<br />
And the young man deadly story.
<br />
<br />
I know of the smell of shame
<br />
Strikingly rich than the fart's spreading fame
<br />
The disgrace of ridiculous jeers
<br />
Defeating sounds of the muddy smears.
<br />
<br />
I have heard the tale of the lover bird
<br />
From life she thought a human gird
<br />
She married a soul soldier
<br />
And she grew quite quiet and quick older.
<br />
<br />
I have seen myself amidst foes
<br />
Like a grain and a river of woes
<br />
Pelting silent daggers and darts
<br />
Friends without friendly hearts.
<br />
<br />
I know the pain of the rotten teeth
<br />
The painless penniless poison of death
<br />
The wan smile of a vicious villain
<br />
The heart and the countenance of Cain.
<br />
<br />
I have heard the amazement of the bud of maize
<br />
So be it for evil and good repays
<br />
The telltale of the Capricorn
<br />
And the mystery lodged in its beautiful horn.
<br />
<br />
I have seen Ajoke's skirts grow shorter
<br />
Maami eat bread without butter
<br />
Brother Chike earn money from blood
<br />
Again, Prophet Noah prays for the flood.
<br />
<br />
<br />
VII
<br />
<br />
I know of the sorrow in the eyes of pains
<br />
And the agony of the loss of gains
<br />
The hungry thirst in the game of survivals
<br />
The drives and chronicles of man's revivals.
<br />
<br />
I have heard of the tree of pride
<br />
Rooted in the poor just turned rich hide
<br />
The deadly habits poverty could conceal
<br />
In wealth, revelations and shocking reveal.
<br />
<br />
I have seen the life of lies
<br />
Innocent looks and deceptive eyes
<br />
The notion of bad men omen
<br />
And the wild plagued of good women.
<br />
<br />
I know of the blessing of wisdom
<br />
Lodged salient in the tongue kingdom
<br />
The sorry nods of a foolish utterance
<br />
And the jeers of an uncultured dance.
<br />
<br />
I have heard of the boasts of experience
<br />
Assured and spiced in the light of confidence
<br />
The rags intelligence could never buy
<br />
Not in a display of gifts or try.
<br />
<br />
I have seen the sauce for the goose
<br />
And the deprivation of the gander's choice
<br />
The amass of the bread of ease
<br />
And the crumbs display on lease
<br />
<br />
I know of a garden of aiding
<br />
An Eden of thieves and crimes biding
<br />
The promiscuity of tongues
<br />
And the piles of the house of wrongs.
<br />
<br />
I have heard strange guests' plots
<br />
The share of delicious porridge in fired pots
<br />
The news arrival of angels and demons
<br />
The rants of the true lies sermons.
<br />
<br />
I have seen Uches' new begging systems
<br />
Chioma house money and ritual items
<br />
Poor Ajoke give birth again
<br />
The next door herbalist conjures to cease rain.
<br />
VIII
<br />
<br />
I know the death in a learning process
<br />
And the burial of a graved success
<br />
The might in the flight of an eagle
<br />
On the roaring zenith of a stormy jingle.
<br />
<br />
I have heard tales of evils<br />
Cooked by men and delivered by devils
<br />
The goodness that lies in wickedness
<br />
Ephemeral and last to nothingness.
<br />
<br />
I have seen friendship so pure
<br />
That brings ill-fates a lasting cure
<br />
The true love in a mother’s eyes
<br />
To the sick child of the villain ties.
<br />
<br />
Iknow the hurt in a valuable loss
<br />
The crispy feelings in a thoughtful toss
<br />
The relief found in a found
<br />
From the sweat in the search ground.
<br />
<br />
I have heard of thorny beds
<br />
Where blood of an innocent sheds
<br />
The virgin kill and quest of beastly groins
<br />
Pouring filthiness in ruthless groans.
<br />
<br />
I have seen the teeth of destruction
<br />
Crunch little lives into extinction
<br />
The intimacy of the oil and scarcity
<br />
Leave fettered scars for dreaming posterity.
<br />
<br />
I know the sadness of the fading afternoon
<br />
Plagued by the pride night echoing soon
<br />
The brevity blueprint of life
<br />
That widowed many a wife.
<br />
<br />
<br />
I have heard of the greed of a sycophant
<br />
Like the deadly flight of an elephant
<br />
The wounded heart in a betrayal
<br />
Of trusted pals in a concerted fall.
<br />
<br />
I have seen the craze of Obi, the beggar
<br />
Who prays only from fists of hunger
<br />
The pride in Ibidun’s built of sorrows
<br />
Puncture Iya Agba’s bright tomorrows.
<br />
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07598102067241407515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3150812317027507766.post-39852539921480203532015-06-03T23:30:00.004-07:002015-06-04T18:39:45.097-07:00Thorny Palms<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
i
<br />
<br />
Again!
<br />
This lightness in my mind
<br />
Is ruined by a hedged harmony…
<br />
<br />
Thorny tendrils of lines having teeth
<br />
Choke my heart…and
<br />
<br />
Bruised memories clot in
<br />
Weeping welts ridged on my fleshy coat
<br />
<br />
Like bloodless fleas and blood
<br />
My fingers scavenge over loomed characters.
<br />
<br />
ii
<br />
<br />
You were my friend
<br />
And I had sworn to keep you…
<br />
<br />
I did this and that… pouched pure
<br />
Positive pour portion of passion…
<br />
<br />
And you did neither that nor this …<br />
<br />
Love was not there for a moment
<br />
Your witchcraft was the chameleon
<br />
<br />
I was a child craft in heart
<br />
And you were a deceptive charm…
<br />
<br />
iii
<br />
<br />
I despised the loud cries of caution
<br />
Of the gentle Spirit in my heart
<br />
<br />
I remembered under the heavy rain
<br />
How I beckoned on the thunder
<br />
And willed my life to its lightening staff…
<br />
<br />
I daily dangled on a fragile geniality<br />
<br />
I cursed…<br />
Burnt myself on the pyre of gods
<br />
<br />
iv
<br />
<br />
For you and you alone
<br />
<br />
My tongue reposed on fangs of imprecations
<br />
As though God was not enough
<br />
<br />
I invoked…
<br />
Strange gods to attest to our mutuality
<br />
Sango, Obatala…Esu Odara…
<br />
<br />
Ignorant that some men are beasts…
<br />
For I was lost…obsessed by the truth
<br />
<br />
The truth hoped to prop us friends forever
<br />
<br />
v
<br />
<br />
They oft called us the snail and the shell
<br />
And you prey me a snare and a hell
<br />
<br />
You were the leech
<br />
You drained…sipped sapped… emptied!
<br />
<br />
Like a shade of shadow I fooled followed
<br />
Accepted you as a fate robed in friendship
<br />
<br />
Now that I have forgiven you
<br />
How could I forget....?
<br />
<br />
You ripped raped my sister. Trust…
<br />
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07598102067241407515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3150812317027507766.post-22085542746069675302014-10-15T05:25:00.000-07:002014-10-15T05:25:09.357-07:00THE RAINBOW IN ME<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;">Purity experience in the blood<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;">The reddish flood at my redemption.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;">My taste of lime vanished<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;">At my tongue spiced flavour of an orange
crush.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">A </span><span style="font-size: 15px;">shining</span><span style="font-size: 11pt;"> sparkle in the quality of the
yellow sun<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;">Followed as in the chase of a paparazzo.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;">I see greens spread wrapped in glory<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;">And showering dews of a new harvest.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;">The sky lighted in the praise of a smoky
cloud<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;">And I feel my heart covered in blue.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;">I gait in the array of petal falls in
indigo<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;">And fireflies glow in the trail .<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;">Violet bows the stretch of my smile<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;">I feel the felt of Romeo and Juliet.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;">It is the rainbow in me<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;">Safe, cared for and secured. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07598102067241407515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3150812317027507766.post-32217091529160824002014-10-15T04:55:00.003-07:002014-10-15T04:55:13.256-07:00There is God O! <div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;">What can I say of the tales<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;">Under the heavens <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;">Where my earth is spread?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;">My tongue throne is vacant of words<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;">My wheel power of speech<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;">Has been short-lubricated<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;">'Na only you waka come'<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;">Could be laden with a confusing comedy<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;">But yet hid not the truth <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;">There is God o!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;">And the tears in a motherly cry.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;">The crushing strong faith<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;">The shakings all around<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;">Corruption like winged fiends.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;">Humans are now demons<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;">Demons with good looks…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;">Death smells every where<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;">Strong oozing deadly death smell<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;">Laid in the look of the silent waters<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;">Deeply deep and quick to quit lives.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;">We give birth to ready hands of death<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;">And celebrate their gone too soon.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;">Death goons lead, luring us with wordy
candies<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;">To disguised comfortable suites of pains.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;">And conscience is no more conscience<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;">Our hearts hold corn shell burns<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;">Burnt and blasted with demonic sciences<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;">Lethally bored into a supposedly human
minds.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;">Our music is no more music<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;">Spittle and vibrations drag in the mud<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;">How do we dance?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;">Who will teach us?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;">What attire?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;"> The
dancers are fat now<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;">Very fat out of knowledge <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;">Knowledge that habours the true steps<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;">They have outgrown the before<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;">Oversized clothing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;">The tunes are now sour...<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;">The clothe is short for Omoye<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;">And Omoye has nakedly entered the market!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;">Bloodshed holds no think value <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;">And sounds like a spill splash of water<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;">Bombs and killings are regular traders<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;">Epidemics debate for a high bid for
morbidity.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;">Where do we go from here?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;">Deception lies in home away from home<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;">For truth flourishes in there is no place
like home.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;">And this is our home <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;">It worth the fight <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;">And God is there and sees all.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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