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.
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.
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
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
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
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
What you have seen before now
Is nothing like you will yet know.
Mountains higher than the clouds
Or galaxies from fictional worlds
Will flash before you in fast floods.
The breath of a lung transits
Or to anti-bodies a virus submits.
The skeleton of a lonely fetus,
As that of a Mammoth is shown us
And not a scene is ever a loss.
The Red sea had betrayed
The depths Egyptians embraced.
White Mountains of ice only
In the south pole melts slowly
As you watch it all so warmly.
Roof of this world up high
Marbles the earth down here.
Clusters of fish eggs hatches,
Soldier ant worker matches,
As its eyelids blinks its lashes.
The wedding of a Queens maid
Or a Roman shield in a pyramid.
A shark outwit a dozen sailors,
Unlike Caesar in a senate of traitors
Centuries ago showed their failures.
A terrorist and freedom fighter
Are both made a fire and its lighter.
A domesticated wolf devours a man,
For a just reason it is shown it can.
You enjoy the deserts heat under a fan.
Bloody vessels in vain roam a sea,
A ghost discusses and drinks tea.
The passengers of an old plane crash
Board same plane again and smash.
Wealth you see leaves you no cash.
Every conceivable game is played
By men, animals, plants displayed.
The thickest clouds parade the sky
On pillars Himalayans peak up high
Or over raging ocean waters they fly.
Dancing birds dressed up to mate,
Two collapsed towers dust their fate.
Deepest valleys in the ocean waters
Reveal their secrets nature alters,
Nothing else in the world matters.
Uproar of a stampede crowds on,
Boiling heat erupting within the sun.
Sudden death stills a pumping heart,
A sprints heat repeated from start,
The tracks appear your viewing mat.
Ash, gas and molten are experienced
Volcano erupts its bowels so tensed.
Frogs hopping on water incredibly,
Like a pebble tossed so skillfully.
Sand storms windowed luxuriously.
Satans countless personifications,
Lords every era that raped nations.
Dancers of every race, sort and style,
Every single bubble in a mug of ale.
You see the characters in every tale.
Sparingly dressed wives in a harem,
Cardinal’s son talk as you hear them.
A view beneath a standing Scots kilt,
Happenings in a billionaires treat.
Everything in sight, with every tilt.
Bullets leaving a steel chamber,
A pierced lung as all its air wonder.
Endless flocks of Pelicans go south,
Yellow Monarchs clouds flicker north
Their beauty fills the mind’s thought.
Angels shield a saint on a mission,
Nerves’ twitch response a decision.
Ant like pedestrians on a city street,
Unsympathetic, selfish, proud fleet
Leave tastes bitter, salty, sour, sweet.
Mans quest for unknown perfections
Blurs with omissions or commissions
Constructed aids in achieved means
Entertain, educate, inform all beings,
Yet humanity’s future it weans.
Darkness feels quite empty
with nothing to see through.
These lives about so mighty
would empty and darken too.
Living is a trip that keeps going.
Daily it comes, always it’s going.
It is peopled, hectic, never cozy;
Fares as pests all quite naughty,
Only it’s tiny stops are a bit rosy.
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.
Sweet is straight yet unclear,
Always new with its old fare.
But bitter doesn’t ever share,
Though it is sinister but sincere,
So real and that shade unfair.
From where comes all this dew,
Delighting thoughts with to chew.
Soothing pressures that boo,
But sound frightfully so lewd.
I grabbed the wind horn I blew,
For I alone do hear it so true.
A loss I think I’ll cause you,
The pains might escape a few.
My swift scheme hardly new,
Like good cheats daring who.
Life is the full pot of new stew
Emotional foot found with its shoe.
The buds blossom is past glossy,
time passing has folded its shiver.
Age wither and dry up the rosy
in certain preparation for shivah.
The past left without all of its,
as the present live any place else.
And now, always alone like this;
How then can the old ever bless?
Dryness of thirst spoke its waste
as all bare feet thorns had hurt.
Peacefully alone, wait for fate
with memories in a bodily hut.
When time has consumed its old
as water passes under the bridge;
This route for all, floods any hold,
water must pass under the bridge.
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
When the heard child laughs
because he or she is yet to learn
that the humans hate bathes
itself with a very muddy hand.
When the grown up man
looks another in the face
with the sympathy he can,
yet his steps he retrace.
When the means so abound
and situations led are bred,
so that no bread is found
or all the many needy fed.
When the minds of people
work in a pattern so futile
to their every tiny single
breath and existing smile.
When the scale is tilt
in favour of the weight
of the gold and its guilt
not honour at its height.
When the support falters,
for man chooses to urinate
in his salads and waters
on the earth he can’t imitate.
When all that exists
speaks for the destination,
then man opens all the exits
and runs out in damnation.
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.
Silly days made our teens,
sorting out our teething genes.
Over those moons, new till old,
our hormones shiver their cold.
Tasting all those many dishes;
many we met with their witches,
Others we borrowed and mended.
But lots we created and trended.
The sting of disappointments sore,
betrayal and pain and much more.
Ageing fear is sour but it is caught;
yet still we trove amidst same death.
To all morrows we cherished
that date we shared perished,
and thank it so for that spice
it puts into this new date so nice.
Yet again we are so pained,
For life has again happened.
We are not in the least shamed,
Just yet again tried and saddened.
Joys we shared once together,
Once more is reduced forever.
What time will number and gather,
This life will tear and end forever.
When another of us breathes not,
We put their bodies in the ground.
But their life time with us dies not,
For memories grow and are sound.
In all of time and in all our lives
we will stumble on to one sure truth;
Man has nothing for all he gives.
Nothing is his but what he achieves.
His life lived is his legacy and fruit.
Adieu Little Brother.
I know I will bother
but I am rested still
knowing “Peace is still’
Tomorrow will come again
With its morning and night,
Feignedly new with some rain,
In fervent dark and again bright.
Wisdom is the Owls,
Opened eyed it saw
Cooking sun bowels
Blurs its sight more.
Little shows the moon,
Like stars in the dark.
To hunt it glides as soon
As dusk shows its back.
The prey that hides
From shine of day
See less of the rides
And the Owls hurray.
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.
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.
What a waste will be all this
if all this life is all there is.
What will all the good breed,
or all the wickedness feed?
What thoughts set out to achieve,
the deeds done set out to receive.
Men are born to die all alone,
as they always lived all alone.
It goes without much comment,
that now is always the moment,
to do and be done with all doing,
for life is forever for the living.
Saved as caught fishes,
Within their own wishes;
To leave waters so free,
Entrapped in fine twines.
Enslaved, seasoned free;
Saved from these times.
Sower that plants me,
shower that wets me,
Power that grows me,
mower that cuts me.
These intimate songs we sing,
blend aged dreams into a ring,
that weds our gendered stew,
in matrimonial oneness not new.
It was the morning,
She was wide awake.
Eating rich breakfast pudding,
picking the latest buy to make.
Her thoughts wonder before;
when cold, homeless and hungry,
fasting and praying away her woe,
with God’s long wait she was angry.
Obedient as humanly possible,
obvious promises she had made.
In luxury and comfort she’s unable
to live up, as time altered the shade.
In tears and sweat teeth gnash,
bearing man’s trials on hand.
Fear of the unknown so harsh,
as pride sits on faith so hard.
Man seeks the great illusion,
misspelling the obligation to live.
Shunning God, His only illumination.
Evil backwards only says Live!
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.
Lit to glow and to flow,
Row down this miserable show.
To perch on the rock I know,
Time again only to flow and row.
How He copes and again sow
Belies His mercies for my loose soul.
Sheepish dumb, eating schooled.
Shaggy wool worn; looks fooled.
Simply gentle and calm for sure.
Story of yours is for the pure.
Sovereign lord wished no more.
Goatee presence, ever the sharp.
Greedy parentless adorable chap.
Goody oh, all lively and bold.
Gullible sexist, rearing coined gold.
God must’ve let off your hold.
(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.”
Not this push’s cure to be read,
Bought or however with all science.
Sought over but never had,
Thought never bore its conscience.
Brought ever near and sad,
Doubt never the lurking consequence.
Fought only to severe till mad,
Naught all to sever its laid sequence.
Caught ever, history has said.
Though ever pinches, it is all nonsense.
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.
How alone can one be?
Looking around, one can only see.
Life is one big school,
Lectures are missed by the fool.
Indeed the friend is in need,
Wisdom in the foe only bid.
The whole world could be wrong
And not hear a word in your song.
For fear hasn’t a say
Where bare hands cut hay.
The masters wishes are His will
And only He writes down the bill.
With what comes where
And how follows when.
For the lost will ever fear
And the found never learn.
Faith lives and all own.
What’s seen is received
And again left all alone;
Like all believed, conceived.
The mind roams no course,
Thoughts feel their own way.
For many, their remorse
To others beacons a bay.
In the quest for source,
The search is the force.
Its hunger is blinding
And its timing, binding.
Many has sight failed,
More will lust then wish.
The senses boxes mailed;
Multitudes fed on their dish.
If mind had one more sense,
It will be its chosen thought;
Which is just another lens.
For faith, it has always sought.
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.
Cruel, cruel death
We have never met.
I only just heard
Of the fear in tears you said.
You’ve been about the herd
And oh the wonder you fed.
Who tells if you’re sent
When you only just left?
Closed eyes clasp the warm darkness,
Shutting out the silvery glow of the moon smile.
The cantata contest invade with its happiness,
Carrying all in the still air of the mating mile.
Oh how simple the peace of this revelry,
The mind and ears wonder the vastness of it all.
Clinging on sanity with man’s overt mystery,
Wishing all love melts into this dream so tall.
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.