WHEN HATE RESEMBLES LOVE


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.

NAUGHTY SAINTHOOD



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

DARK, TAMED & BRIDLED



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.

STONED MAN



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.

RACING LIFE



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

EVERY WAR IS JUST A BATTLE



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

WORN NOT OUT

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.

SLUG


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.

ZEBRA CROSSING


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.

I KNOW IT

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.

FRIEND OF FOE


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.

BREATHE



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.

PROSTITUTES


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.

AGE IS TIME

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



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.

CRAZED

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

MIGHTY FLEA


And where are you off to
you little mite, busy so so?
To gather as you go through
borrowing to hide down low?

This wind that carry you
draws a ring as you sing.
For one that reigns so true
you live shorter than you bring.

Your bite is so you can live
like all who prey on fatality.
How true it is, in all who live,
That death is but a formality.

TALE OF TWO PEOPLE


Up on the plateau they reigned,
Their own old clans so formed.
Hidden on the heights plain,
Living in plentys much rain.

They welcome guests well,
As prosperous strangers tell.
Soon dominance is so evident
And for the sold they want rent.

Wherever time is so kept,
Such a place has it since left.
Two is never again one unless
One is expunged and no less.

Identity established so firm,
Fights a war not for their farm.
Bullying their co-farmers yield
With poised spears and a shield.

OUR HOMES


It was always dark in all it lack;
All living again, though to us all,
Today it still lingers far off back
In that long night we still do fall.

These cultures that speak the person
Say an Abiku again is everyone of us.
For common reason proves a season,
That only event ended and started us.

When the cries over sharia had settled,
We ran and scattered the towns streets.
Homeless, dead and alive all kettled;
Schemed and steamed out of fair streets.

After all, a rope always starts and ends,
Then it is just after all rope in between.
All of man is birth and the dead ends,
In between is life; man is in between.

After dusk, all return to their own home.
The swines streets of our homes will then
Not be as good again to even just roam,
For the transit pen is now a lions den.

In dedication to the old residents of Rigasa, in Agabi LGA of Kaduna, who were forcibly displaced of the Sharia Riots of Kaduna; February 20th, 2000

AFRICA


Darkest people ever found,
A huge pistol points wrong.
If here man got his sound;
Earth, Africa is your song.

AND WHAT A POOR SONG IT HAS THUS BEEN

MOUNTAIN


My mood goes up and down a mountain,
too inspired by the challenge to refrain.
Wary of the danger that’s being embraced,
so cautious of the consequence, if disgraced.

Confused at the reason why anyone must,
scared of the height beckoning my lust.
Struggling up the first ledge as I edge up,
proud to have made it up my own little top.

Further up more battles, the way is yet more.
Betrayed by falling rocks I yearn for before.
Holding on to dear life, yet another average.
Dejected by unfriendly weather and also age.

Angry to slip off the steep, rubbed in bruises.
Disappointed to lose the gained just pushes.
Gasping up yet another route should matter.
In time it comes to never prove any better.

Surprised by the like company all about
and reason enough for more than without.
Appreciation my efforts and gains deserve,
are tried and tired yet gladdened to serve.

Knowing I cannot stay forever there on top.
When and not if I return grounded from up;
Normal should I be again, only different,
with experience and lessons time can’t dent.

If I return pushed from its highest cliffs edge
or in honour received at finished times verge,
I’ll wrestle my older ages embers of last mood;
helplessly watch it win all my trophies and food.

MASSES


Where the eagles dare
the vulture does fear.
With weaklings there,
Patience stole our lair.

Anthills grew where
colonies learns to bear.
That beach is so near
when a lost ship cheer.

EXPERIENCE








The child learns to be his own person,
as he ages and develops his own ability,
to endure life at first,
and its worries next.


But when he gets accustomed to enduring life,
and learns to numb out most,
of the sorrow he feels in it,
he then acknowledges,
that living thrives out of form,
if it discards its ordered laws
and professes its rebelling need for rules.


Otherwise that early instant knowledge,
of life and its subtleties,
would render a child hapless,
to a situation it hasn’t as yet mastered
and make life appear pointless from a very early age.


Just like a shooting star sighted from earth,
appears to hit no target,
life will appear to serve no purpose
but only serve a steadily distressing experience
by all logical human estimation.



MOST LOST


Who says we are most alone
when we are with the most?
and all alone with its none;
enjoying life at its own worst?

Attempting to be on our own
we had often found its cost;
sought glories for the stone
and won prizes we had all lost.

ZOO KEEPERS


The chimps are gaily as will ever
As the fauna king will rule never.
Penned in a checkered metal home,
Their chatter roar a collective hum.

Huge trumpeters cupped for show
As archaic aquatic lizards flow.
Their mud puddles not more free
Than the walled rivers to be or see.

Eagle soars only in its mind
And serpents share their kind.
All the skies they see and saw
Lost like their choices as before.

CLOUDS OF SALT (Hadarin gishiri)


Skies are drumming,
The body joins in too.
Clouds are partying,
Invited winds are too.

The body is hurrying,
All corpses are met.
Real hot or chilling,
Salty must be wet.

Sama na kidi,
Jiki ya dauka.
Hadari na biki,
Ya gaiyache iska.

Jiki na sauri,
Kowa na mushe.
Ko zafi, ko dari,
Gishiri sai ya jike.

TEMPTATION


Misty prospects in the skies
Yet this sun blurs the eyes,
While the bright light of day
Carries the whole mind astray.

The bride of shame courts
Yearnings, fantasies and lusts.
The comforts of home pushes,
Sins cold hands outside urges.

Can man sneeze or not
Or blink like it is his sort?
To run at first sighting
Or just dare all tempting,

This he never will elude;
His ways must all conclude.
Not all his wishes go to sea.
For lust, many beaches only will see.

AGE STEALS ALL







Somewhere in all days;
witnessed as is always,
in the mornings blue skies
as in the nights goodbyes.

It stops the singing,
matches the hatching.
In its crawling time,
it bettered the wine.

With nothing to give,
it gives and yet deceive.
Wizen the ripened old;
consumed and still sold.

Young the years grew
and gathered all anew.
Stealth gets its way
as age steals all away.

HYPOCRITES


Those who curse the dogs wet nose,
Let them please cast the first stone.
It can’t wag its tongue mouth close
as they commonly do on their own.
It barks its reason like all of those
who do but wouldn’t leave it alone.

EGGS




Of all the eggs man hatches,
bred chickens he most matches.

To have laid and consume such;
grow, yield or still change much.

None knowing its own whence
or where’s much timely when.

Unlike its master whose knives
pick off its yet feathered lives;

It has no say in what brings
the very end of all things.

GAY


At birth the bloom will say
what piece in the pair stay,
a plus for lives coupled play.

In structure all living may
grow, roam and breed away,
as only possible since day.

Alas, I fear the body did sway,
hearts and minds too stray,
to please nothing else they gay.

AVANDE GARDE, CAUSE CÉLÈBRE


(A very famous trial ahead of fashion)


“Wake up, you’re dead.
What says your plea?”
“Pray, I am in bed.
You come and flee.”

“Arise, you sleep not.
Your dreams all end.”
“Pardon, my reason is rot.
I am no fiend.”

“I ask not for I know.
State your stewardship?”
“To those above I, I bow.
For those beneath I, I reap.”

“Did they smile above,
Were they glad beneath?”
“With every pain I solve,
With every single breath.”

“What of all the lands
And all that is of it?”
“With my mind and hands
I cared for every bit.”

“What of I, thy Lord?
Did thee walk My path?”
“I knew not only one word,
Couldn’t tell lie from fact.”

JUDAS, PETER


In faith I betray.
My faith I fail to say.
I put cost to my trust.
Mine in fear I just lost.

Silver pieces I sowed.
An ear my dagger mowed.
Son of man amidst us I show.
Son of God amongst us grow.

The master I so truly know.
To His end I didn’t follow.
One of the dozen chosen.
A special place I was given.

I failed myself not He.
It was as it was to be.
And my life I chose to kill.
After tears, I humbled my will.

AFRAID OF COMMON FEAR


We’re afraid so much of necessary failure,
Of what others think of us and of the future
And the past gone and now; just afraid.

We seldom show our consuming phobia,
They’re pushed to sub-consciousness, left there.
There they swell up and fester; being afraid.

Our hidden fears create a climate of anxiety;
Scarcely knowing why we’re afraid, it is insanity.
But still we live on like this, basically afraid.

CAIN’S WIFE


I wonder who you are;
Some lost line or verse?
Lost somehow so far;
We can’t now transverse?

You are there in view,
Yet we chose the dark.
And rendered the new
Old, like a lot we lack.

Our acceptance of you
Is not sincere at least,
To admit what we knew
Had outlived its wreath.

Shrouded in some mist
Of age old, yet new norm;
That captured life’s feat
And figured its only form.

We spouse a ghost
And live in cemeteries.
Like a true coffined host,
Scared for our souls stories.

Your place true as cast,
Even if subtle and lost.
History gain from; at last,
Those Cains wives, almost.


(Genesis 4:17)

THE SPOUSE OF SENTIMENTS


Daddy smiled and coughed light,
Understanding my explained plight.
Men are lonely and they know,
Yet they conspire not to let show.

These women are assisted all through
By their very own sex, unlike you.
Firstly by mothers or sisters, then peers.
All thrust, show or coax their shares.

Ladies understand the bodies world well
As they grow so guided, you can tell.
The boy discovers on his very own.
And thus, what he finds is his fun.

SHOWN OFF



Sorry bro, if you haven’t guessed it yet,
and if you doubt it you’ll lose this bet.
There is an ongoing assault on your senses,
and it mainly targets your viewing lenses.

Ladies make sure you see their goods,
those curvy naughty goody foods.
They test your resolve to be normal,
teasing to resist their mean abnormal.

SINGLED OUT


Found out amidst the threshing stones,
sort out of the cupboard of bones.
Where the situation was doctored
fell out that one not to be mastered.

Revenge consumes like any fire
and depends on sentimental air.
An action sought to set any aside
is vengeful if reason and sense coincide.

When anybody is singled out
the stone-casters dance about,
exposing ignorance and malice;
ironically with the drummers piece.

MEN AT EASE



The other day a lady teased me,
saying I’ve got huge man boobs.
Smiled and tried to make her see,
creation has one reoccurring oops.

Just like everything that is male,
My boobs are for my pleasure;
Not the upliftment of others’ tale,
For God’s a man in all His nature.

MONEY AND THE MISER


Spend me! You miserable clot,
So I can travel, visit and just be.
Have I not uplifted all your lot
With my coming and swelling sea?

Ha! See what is talking here;
Another creation grown astray.
Has making you collect near
Lost its purpose as any way?

I have existed so long before,
Making many, long before you.
Hadn’t my might sown more
Fright in you than you’ll rue?

My fear of you doesn’t keep,
That is why you I do amass.
How trivial your might heap
Just like any furniture was?

I taste the air men breathe,
Inhaled in its life and gasped.
Hasn’t the ease I could knit
Warm skeletons all trapped?

I don’t lodge or host guests
And don’t burden any to host.
Haven’t I seen your requests
Send errands until they’re lost?

I plunge in a lake all humble,
Help will come and does drown.
Had not man’s urge so trouble
His lust for his own crown?

Then I’ve unraveled your plot,
So with me you’re ever sunk.
I’ll keep man’s own twin clot.
After all, arent you precious junk?

WHERE ARE YOU?



First time I got those three words,
it was a parent checking on me.
Then it was a sibling’s own words,
demanding my attention and me.

Next on the train came a friend,
likewise demanding attention.
And this goes on without end,
because I’m in for an education.

As a stallion, my girl owned me,
every minute her calls are as true.
Mother didn’t as much call me.
Now my pet name is WHERE ARE YOU?

REBIRTH

Everything is chaos
that comes to a head.
Like life is not yours,
if it owns you instead.

The parent of logic
is simply knowledge.
What’s certainly tragic,
is all life is in bondage.

IMMORALITY

Time is a precious commodity,


one we cannot create but waste.

How we use every opportunity,

determines our enduring taste.

The fabric of every community,

makes up it’s content and state.

When a people lose their sanity,

old men rule like boys in haste.