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.
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.
Stand for something
Not be on a fence
In my defense
Have an opinion
Not give a care
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.
There’s a thing about every action
That speaks for every perception
And it tells it’s own unique story
Consciously archived in memory
Any wretched tale of denial,
Of disdained failure and trial,
Will reveal as a dogged bout
Of one toughened life time,
All worn through but not out.
As we moan in our far watch;
Nagging our peopled conscience,
We miss out entirely that the catch
Is made up of all our overt nonsense.
A large rich island just drags on,
Not for the size it must always hug.
The bulk of it lost the very reason
Why rich minds will make it a slug.
Long nights had passed by,
I still stray into the dream.
My tears had filled my try,
My beaten milk isn’t cream.
Donkeys’ years pass on along
And made me an ass all alone.
Donkey’s oversized head belong
To the horses my very fate own.
The will shade appear itself
And I can not be too careful.
In crossing to my other half,
I find I am the Zebra’s fool.
Winners so abound,
Strapped and bounded.
Elated all around,
Those fine times
Speaks for all kinds.
Saying as do chimes,
That time do binds.
Rare times of winning
Brings forth the hidden.
Revealing all missing;
Like fingers in a mitten.
Story behind the picture here;
I know it all, at least most of it.
Whole of it is all written there,
It was not told to me, I saw it.
It’s actually too glaring to miss
Happened right before my eyes
Where fell my toad holder piece
A truck ran over toad and keys.
O little, little, tiny ant;
Do you wonder who I am,
Standing big moving plant,
Always about to do you harm.
Why does time keep ticking,
never waiting or ever stopping?
Why does the air fill our lungs,
and we live, where we belong?
Why does mother work still,
while she looks like we all feel?
Why does she walk the street,
daily giving humility a new feet?
After taking stock of our relationships
And how we all manage to practice them,
With the thorough scan of stewardships
Serving or waiting on this our system.
I come to the stunningly true conclusion
That there is always a thin line between
A foe or a friend in this summation
And it is there for all to lose or win.
It is as thin as is the common thread
Or as is any selfish or selfless whim
That guides man’s search for bread
Or his thoughts, his actions or him.
If you have a head ache
are you sick in the head?
When a body part break
does it mean it’s your end?
Take it a day at a time
each day again as bright
Chin up for it’s again fine
Just pause, chill and breathe.
I will be here all my life,
Being kept, felt and fed.
I will be here all my wee life,
Being all too lazy me, not led.
I will be here all my life,
Bothered no more than fit.
I will be here all my tiny life,
Y’all just fricking deal with it.
Wheels of fortune
Sing your cheeky tune.
Life is a man
Dancing all he can.
Loose as sand,
Lord of all the land.
In all this fuss
You wonder what he has.
All buddies have a thing they do
That comes with time and trust
It is something they share too;
Something that can not be lost.
They could be more than two;
With more bodies than it cost.
Still they share something true,
They can’t say for sure or sort.
It says it has again erred
In learning lessons it knows
And had over a time tried
To live in its faith so loose.
Clasped handed, kneel or like;
It finds pleasure in saying them,
These words that should only milk
Its souls truth and not its claim.
Soliciting for rights it can call
To make tangible intangible breath.
As the dead are without fear all,
It tries to bring to safety its faith.
The freshness of a blossom
Will wither, fall and dry.
All this earth so awesome,
Ends and will all die.
Most prostitutes are normal bodies,
Hard workers doing their oddities;
Which seem unpopular so visibly,
So they can continue to feed boldly.
Circumstances they try to overcome,
Upturned obstacles making them so,
Resembling every other fleshed bone
With less hypocrisy and shyly so sour.
They are not traders selling a bodily asset,
They rent out for material gain and power
Like the more popular, with more respect;
Unlike political integrity, with less shower.
There’s patience in every wait,
and really, nothing is ever late.
With time, effort and faith,
even a mountain is a gate.
Your pained toil is gone yonder,
it’s training carried you further.
Now that the biology is over,
Earn your pride as a mother.
That simple deed you daily handle
Reveal so much about how you work.
Just as everybody carries their bundle
Of life’s joy and sorrow that will mock.
That piece of action you handle
Reveal your final piece of work.
Just like every artists’ own bundle
Of clay would praise and also mock.
Age is not just a number
It is time and much more.
Age is a climbing descend,
And a diminishing ascend.
Age is a race with time!;
For and also against time.
One day young and on top.
next, old and about to drop.
Where a man goes
So points his toes.
And what he knows;
Not all what he does,
Would lessen his woes.
All around are foes,
with yet another ruse.
Up any tree he throws;
With a beat to choose,
Could be his mangoes.
Time is a beating heart
ticking away from its start
counting down, ebbing away
taking life away, for it can’t stay
My time is solely mine, mine alone
I walk it and work life on my own
My life is not mine; it, I just have
Long as I prowl safely and behave
I am not mad, just insanely crazed
Like all the many about, just dazed
I live somehow, alive like it matter
I’m only here, ignored like dirty water
I try wetin I fit
With all dem gist.
I join, cook, wait!
Water yet, no meat.