We’ve all the time in the world,
until we finally leave the world.
There is nothing more we own,
Than the time that is our own.
All the time we have is limited,
as our use of it is complicated.
When we live out time in ease,
we live and age as we please
There comes a time in one’s life
when everything feels repeated
Knowledge is old and ages ripe,
desire spent and drive defeated
When wait feels like a long stay
as all reasons appear conceited
Then comes the moment in life
we’ve had enough, are dispirited
Man’s a lonely silly single being,
all about his daily living business.
Owning where been, what seen;
gambling choices like any guess.
Faith comes and goes blindly,
everything done, a coin toss.
How each would end finally;
head or tail, it is a final loss.
Social media has us not so sure
about what’s true or maybe not
When it’s news, we’re not sure
Not even when it maybe not.
News is new, obviously right?
Must be true, not maybe news
Gray is neither black or white,
So nothing in-between is news
Allow me to call your attention
to a most despicable situation.
One that people ever question,
but it’s only actually in reaction.
All alive extend their creation
with survival acts of procreation.
When choice create a situation
then crime is truly the abortion.
What colors are people really?
It’s been a race thing, isn’t it?
Always been a contest surely;
ran all through time, ain’t it?
The sun rises to make a day,
moon smiles white at night.
Color of life shades our way,
every life is as dark or bright.
It’s common in law as said,
that ignorance is no excuse.
For lots, knowledge has paid;
for much more it will confuse.
For what we claim as ours
is not as we acknowledge.
As ignorance brings chaos;
surely as much knowledge.
Aren’t we all citizens of earth;
firstly simply humans beings?
Sure as we’re free in thought
we’ll love or hate some things.
We’re too different to be same,
too alike in ways that’re insane.
So the expression of our tastes,
merely make up our many faiths
All people act like little Weasels
Pretend Beavers and tiny Seals
Their selfishness is quite gifted
He who is told sorry is cheated
All relationships are personal
Nothing human is impersonal
All Life is an act as it is meant
No one should tell you different
When last did you’ve a habit?
It just happened on its own
or you toiled and worked at it?
Not the filthy things you do
like smoking or biting nails.
But those tiny trivials we do
Like Indian nod; only they do,
the Negroid’s sense of Rythym
And the Caucasian’s damn ego.
Once a race was in place
for today and tomorrow.
Today says a step to pace,
tomorrow rather they row.
Yesterday the only umpire,
who decided they just wait.
Thus a race we never hear,
tomorrow is today now here;
yesterday is always so unfair.
Within and outside every being
is the good, the bad and the ugly.
It is true of every single entity;
be it inanimate or alive or dying.
Nothing more is fitting naturally.
Eyes liken windows to the head
and the mouth, likens the door.
As open eyes daily enlightened,
the closed mouth the more adore.
Sex is like nothing else.
It is as nice as it is not;
it is reasonable no less
and useless too, of a sort.
Knowledge of it is bliss
Ignorance of it more so
Sex would largely please
It is much like breathing
Once started, no stopping
Chasing the sun into the sky
always ends in one life time.
Only dreams can actually fly,
for aspirations merely climb.
Why you dey stone me with eye?
I dey chop my own, no put eye.
This our country na turn by turn;
you chop your own, na my turn.
I swear, if God dey vex true true,
this country for don talk true
Wetin we chop dey our teeth.
Las las, all of us join be thief.
Over time immemorial as now
people see beauty as so rare.
Searching as far as they know;
to the world’s ends and near.
But beauty is quite so common,
it’s here, there and everywhere;
in all seen, enjoyed and put on.
The beautiful is simply so near.
Painting by @Falopebrhyme
Man’s best friend stays near;
always beside him and here.
Dark or bright as any mood;
happy and sad, bad or good.
True friends live your life too,
just as it is; all of it with you.
Every diamond is a stone,
every single one of them.
Starting off many of none,
later never again all alone;
once it’s known it’s them.
Mere inanimate pieces,
come through hottest hell.
Aged icy glaze gem pieces,
steeled over so many misses
Harden stones with tales to tell
I am only human after all,
for I am made up as such.
To grow as high as my fall,
and to make of it as much.
My failings are mine alone
and my victories are for all.
I’m damned bloodied bone,
for I’m only human after all.
When you pray for rain,
It says a lot about you.
Certainly your brain
has some sense too.
You doubt some science,
and have a lot less faith
in logic and conscience;
as in birth and death.
“The proper function of man
Is to live, not to exist.”
For it is life’s demand
To insist and not persist.
“I shall not waste my days,
In trying to prolong them.”
I shall use my time in ways
That’s fair to me and all men.
Your two most important days
are firstly the day you’re born
then the day ending your stay.
Both you don’t know or own.
Grind and toil on still,
work through anyway,
regardless of the feel,
simply make the way.
All fails are still wins;
breaks and remakes.
Life will happen still;
like winning stakes.
When Hate resembles love, it doesn’t.
Especially if Terror claims to come in peace.
Is it possible, loving anything you mustn’t,
Abhorring the whole but not it’s piece?
Then that peace you want wouldn’t; Not ever be yours, even on short lease.
You are not special
You’re quite ordinary
Another human misery
Alone inside and solitary
What you make of all this,
That’s what you hit or miss.
Every single day’s dawn
feels like I am a pawn
stepping out alone
Being alone is not quite good;
Could be the worst thing ever,
Like wearing an empty mood.
Strings to whoever, whatever;
Attaching time and life itself,
You find, hold and cut forever.
Though we’re unsure of a future,
We are definitely not concerned.
Our minds groomed in a culture,
Taught to believe all is confirmed.
The familiarity makes us all dizzy,
In likeness we cannot forsake me.
For love is not suppose to be easy,
That is why it is love not just like.
A seed dies too like a dream,
already buried to simply grow.
All seeds dropped into a stream,
aborts their dreams with the flow.
Within everyone is a loving push
That could become a rough shove
With a steady sprinkle of rush
A visit can become a move
What becomes quite pressed
Actually starts off as a walk
The moment we feel stressed
Our mindsets weakens and balk
Always it is Yes she hints,
All smiles in sexy cosy winks.
So he doubles effort and sits
As her encouragement blinks.
He advances and she giggles,
She teases and he heats up.
Yet his matches remain singles
As her naked sainthood shuts up
Every word is made up,
It’s more than just sound.
Every word likens a cup,
Refilled with every round.
Each word carry a thought,
An intent which is it’s guide.
Grown up words get taught,
They’re learned and caught,
A disguise lost to the child.
From whence were you birthed?
The very bowels of ships berthed.
And who had anchored your pains?
Same he that adorned me in chains.
Who housed and fed your pride?
Same he that took away my side.
Who sat you in hard carved wood?
This same master who eats my food.
What lessons were fed to you?
That’s written on my scars too.
What journey have you come from?
One that make up my physical form.
Were you aided and groomed?
Indeed, burdened and tooled.
Where you shaped to a good fit?
Truly, trained to be as yet unfit.
How were you held in place?
Planted, till I lost all my trace.
Surely you tried to branch out?
Rooted trees only get to sprout.
But you grew on and had aged?
Certainly, I’m still not as caged.
So break away and come home.
I’m home in the cage I’m borne.
But all your gains is not evident?
Yet I am surely and truly present.
But you are a readied crucifix?
Yet my time lost I did not miss.
What time it is, is relative;
to just any moment in time.
Though age is cumulative,
it only slowly keeps in time.
These hands that tell time,
only do what we make them;
steering, without the helm.
Cladded in possible beauty,
cared or cherished no less.
Tendered with flowery duty;
still a Lady bugs regardless.
If stones could speak
and use words like us,
show us what we seek
reveal what was a loss
Will we believe them,
listen to their wisdom?
Or maybe just like them
we are stoned at home.
Must I
Stand for something
Not be on a fence
In my defense
Must I
Have an opinion
Not give a care
Or share
Men are the price;
Women their prize.
Time the receiver;
Life, ultimate giver.
Living is a long race
Setting its own pace.
You start with a prize
before paying the price.
Inspired by @kelechi_eo
Marvelously watery is life;
Forever dying wet
Miraculously timely is life;
Where ever met
Wisdom is broad;
Knowledge is narrow.
It’s like getting a broad,
Takes wit, fits and sorrow.
Found my missing rib;
taken many eons ago,
from man’s first ever crib.
Named every living thing,
even she who Woo Man,
she who changes everything.
Now all time is theirs;
though life goes onwards,
I am caged to all of hers.
April is here,
and we’re fools again,
to the mystery of life’s gain.
Magnolias and hail
sweet longer evenings,
fills our time with musings.
Easter on the way
seduced by daffodils,
wonderfully time always refills.
Inspired by @gotnomoniker
When daily Life is Too Hot,
Who cares if home is a Pot?
We’re born to make Breath.
We are all groomed to Fight,
Schooled, cooked to Adapt
Nigeria is a pot of Rich Stew
Badly cooked by the rich Few.
I’ve caught the moon for you.
I will walk off the moon man,
Show him a thing or two too,
Count out his many stars too.
Watch me make all about you.
I’ll steal time, keep it for you;
Like your God, I will save you,
Show off there’s none like you.
Toss the coin all your life,
Balance on edges of a knife.
Whither roam your own course
If life to you is just a lone farce.
Are you not lost in thought;
Like the canine who fought
His own tail round and round,
With its very head not sound?
Old men always dream up wars,
To send more young men to die.
It’s been one of their flaws,
Will always be for it’s no lie.
The young always follow them;
For it’s their forte to be gullible.
Today’s young men,
Tomorrow’s old men
If you refuse to leave,
Surely it will still cease.
Because the night is dark;
The sun ensures it is back.
In ka ki ka ji bari,
Lalle za ka ga bari.
Domin dare ne sakon;
Rana ne mai bakon.
It’s the most misused word
Which says it is quite right
When stakes are put on hold.
It gives up it’s life given right,
To demand, take and be bold.
Shades own place in the sun;
Like the shadows that will run,
Is hidden from its glories glare
With the truth they all must bear.
YasNiger™ 