WAITING

Every moment is spent not used,
as opportunities taken or refused.
The passage of time is an escape.
Every lifestyle ever takes a shape.

Daily strifes and expectations,
wake people up every morning.
Then returning to same situations,
people live for joy and its mourning.

WHERE THERE IS SMOKE



Most times we feel things,
and sense them well ahead.
Many times see these things
but don’t avoid them instead.

The signs will be there for all,
like we stumble before we fall.
Doubt stammered before it spoke,
like there’s fire where there’s smoke.

TAKE NOTE

It’s always wise to understand
those who have a hold on you.
Always know where they stand,
for it is rarely always with you.

We all have some major desires,
even when they’re hidden in us.
Knowledge is gotten, dear sirs.
Wisdom is nurtured within us.

HOLD ON



Holding onto you
and all time stops.
Very smell of you
fills my many cups.

Sweetness all about
sorrounds the still air.
Breathing in and out,
makes leaving to fear.

I am full but not fed.
I’m held in my breath,
that hasn’t yet paused.
You’re my living wealth.

GRATITUDE


All is never ever as it is or well,
even in Satan’s strictest of hell.
There is always the weird sort,
who make of goodness a sport.

Gratitude is the right attitude;
it always gives some latitude,
that will lift the down trodden,
make out fertilizer of its rotten.

FUNERAL OF THE DEAD



Once was a rich man
with a big spoiled family;
he lived an unhappy man.

He wrote his will
and he put in a pan,
stamped with his seal.

After he had died
his whole family met
to mourn and all cried.

His will unsealed
and then it’s torn up
as they merrily mealed.

TOUGH LIFE



World is the baggage that matter,
life is the manner we carry it on.
Time is the passage and ladder,
age is it’s numbered mile stone.

World is a mission we’re tasked.
Living is the tour we are allowed.
Time is our tenures unmasked.
Age likens a sentence awarded.

TIME OF DAY



Every day passes into another,
in the same likeness and order.
Morning blends into bright days,
evening dims out in similar ways.

Renewed days busting bubbles,
moving airy shades in mingles.
No difference in multiple colors,
only mystery behind their doors.

THE PAST MAKETH



Past is never where we leave it,
it goes with us anywhere we go.
Past is the invincible scarred bit
that heals, remain and still show.

Like a past, everyone has a scar
that help make ’em who they’re.
Experience is in the difference,
for stereotypes aren’t evidence.
Those who habitually generalize
would end up telling general lies.

LOOMING



Time crawls to us, not away;
and it catches up in our way.
We’re never its chasing park;
like a Wolf it finds our track.

That time waits for none of us,
is more true than we choose.
For it does edges towards us
and always ever looming close.