You can believe what you wish
but bad news is always heavier.
People ask you to make a wish
and choose what feels happier.
Still good is ever overwhelmed
by the bad already condemned.
Like the heavier are prominent;
lighter is always lost in content.
Home is your nest
and where you rest.
Made to suit you best,
where you’re no guest.
If anyone tried to live forever
they would have a joyless life;
with iry loneliness everywhere,
like some timeless cutting knife.
Life should be richly bountiful,
not boundless and too plentiful.
Living ought to be just that once;
long enough for a good chance,
to sow seeds in rare difference.
Leave behind a good name,
and die without one shame.
It’ll represents you the best;
give your legacy a good rest.
You’ll liken a good old author;
still alive forever like a shore.
Good memories of your name
always fair and ever the same.
Honesty isn’t cruel,
it is exact and old.
But all lies are new,
unreal and so bold.
One lie begat more;
like a loving whore
in God’s priesthood.
Why make of beauty what it is not
or make falsehood the fact it is not?
Why call a name where it isn’t loved
or hate for reasons another is loved?
Why share in the logic for blind faith
then deny love it’s heartbeat or breath?
Why refuse to be forced to behave
but relish in the spoils cruelty gave?
Why make the most common sense,
rot away until it becomes nonsense?
Love is patient and love is kind;
doesn’t envy, it’s one of a kind.
It doesn’t boast, it isn’t proud.
Love does not dishonor others;
it isn’t self-seeking or ever loud.
It isn’t easily angered by others.
Love keeps no record of wrongs.
Love does not delight in any evil,
but rejoices with truthful tongues.
It always ever protects and is civil.
It always trusts and always hopes;
always perseveres, anyhow it goes.
1 Corinthians 13:4-8NIV
Join us in making it a happier Christmas for children. Claire Aid foundation is open to all kinds of donations in cash & kind; items such as toothpaste, toothbrush, soap, out grown shoes & clothes, books, toys etc.
God bless you abundantly.
The fear of the unknown
is the beginning of wisdom.
Searching more of the known,
does not guarantee a kingdom.
Things we know the most;
those bothering us the most,
are those that worry most of all
and they always do make us fall.
We know where the future is,
it’s in front somewhere coming.
It is impossible for any to miss,
except those dead, lost or missing.
Like time, future moves in form,
and awaits all that come its way.
Since time doesn’t have one form,
so future too makes in its own way.
When we arrive at an old age,
time is quick and we are slow.
Everyone else only see a sage
though we only still just know.
Arriving at a renewed bondage
when all tell us what we know.
Thinking becomes so plentiful,
time is there but quite useless.
We are burdened to be useful,
yet challenged to be needless.
When life is richer and needful,
it gives notice that it is pointless.
Baba, mutuwa na da wuya?
Mun amince duniya da wuya.
Father, is it hard to die?
We acknowledge hassles of the world.
With life’s wards always roams a lie;
We all are reproductions of its mould.
Choking in the presence of its grip,
The inscrutable crux not familiarized.
Do we sit out the stages of its trip,
Like your peaceful love that wasn’t recognized?
From the weep the baby wails
To the whip’s lashes life hails,
These tastes we own and inherit.
Say oh father, is there better to merit?
Continue to rest in peace father.
The best way to nurture life,
is to be at peace that it ends.
Most lessons we learn in life;
aren’t those life recommends.
Best knowledge we acquire,
we actually taught ourselves.
The bits and grit we require,
fall into place by themselves.
The most important truth
is most often the simplest.
Hardest to follow through,
yet spoken of most easiest.
We give our best as we must,
yet the best are never enough.
Every new trail is endless a lost;
it likens despair we ever sought.
Everyday is sweet momentarily,
living is such true fun and more.
All tastes change and inevitably,
every natural sweet turns sour.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
I am a dreamer,
not in my sleep.
I am the winner
in good upkeep.
Lurking so near
in my mind’s liar,
an unending tale
also fitting to tell.
All thoughts are,
But dreams are,
firm virtual forts.
Dreams carry on,
never do end later.
They’re once upon
and also ever after.
Seconds sprint, minutes gallop,
hour is a walk and day the trip.
Daily lives make everyone hop
and the long jumpers are cheap
People do choose to live forever
and make their lives last longer.
Every single generation further;
a rebirth, new and yet another.
Grown ups’ dream in sleep
likens children’s living faith.
Man’s thought is ever deep
like the child’s love is neat.
Trust has a short life time
that outlives only childhood.
Every man lives within crime
and children learn its mood.
Trust is fragile,
words are agile.
Time is limited,
the aged gifted.
All have ties,
People are kitted
to be mean and vile,
loving but conceited.
Fly dear little bird
and make the nest.
Set your fluffy bed,
for today and next.
Tomorrow ever late
will give it’s reasons.
Find yourself a mate
to breed in seasons.
When the mind’s worried
and the heart’s disturbed
sky turn mainly blue daily;
like oceans also too wavy.
Sun’s glow appears burnt,
moon makes a sad afront.
Lonely life looks abandoned,
its sojourn feeling condoned.
Sad and unhappiness is cold,
all things turn blue the world.
Death must be so beautiful,
it’s the dying that’s frightful.
To lie in the soft brown earth
like a twig that hasn’t a faith.
Nothing more to say or prove
and the grasses waving above.
One’s head listens to silence,
in unending endless patience.
No yesterdays, nor tomorrow.
Gone is all life and it’s sorrow.
Forgotten life, forgiven time.
To be at peace, in darken fine.
“I should’ve only had to say;
Should’ve only said it once.
Human court have it’s way;
on my list of sins it’ll pounce.
“But no, all will not be forgiven.
You were never seeing past it.
In your own eyes it is a given;
I’ll always be that girl, ain’t it?
“That is why the amputations;
it’s necessary to let go all trust.
Someday you’ll see the options
and see I’m so right about us.”
Inspired by @sthrnwriter
Home is where I am;
it isn’t anywhere else.
Home says who I am
and my current place.
Home always has me;
all of me, as I present.
Home ever keeps me;
in all my most recent.
Home has become me,
and keeps mine safest.
My home’s here to see;
most real in its truest
We can’t change what we can’t;
it’s a fact of life that outlive us.
No getting on or off as you want;
complain your wish, life is no bus.
Go with the flow of ticking time,
taking all the decisions you must.
Spend well your currency of time,
no change left when we die at last.
Lot easier to fall out of love
than it is to fall in love.
Something in human nature
makes it easier to puncture
than it is to slowly nurture.
Lifetime is a tricky staircase,
one people make and chase.
Each, their very own building;
you got the land, start building.
If you’re in love now;
at this very moment,
or you’ve ever loved
but it’s just not current
Then you’re lucky my friend
because not everyone loves.
Most think so and pretend.
Like breath everyone knows,
love comes and it goes
But remains as you choose.
Who decides when we die,
for what we chose to die;
ideas we select to defend?
After all is there a greater lie
than the world is only one lie,
when its many lies has no end?
Living is one steady struggle,
the world is one dying jungle;
with logs in eyes to condemn.
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.
We’re suffering and call it living;
right where we remain seething.
The reason we’re slowly dieing,
obviously is our own choosing.
This torture is of our own doing;
and this enslaves our reasoning.
Every day we fire up the boiling
and yet dish our all the blaming.
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.
Admiring success from afar
is a very popular past time
which inspires him or her
who strives over time.
Be advised that success is;
not about luck or the man.
It’s simply behind him is
a stick and a woman.
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
Everything that has a beginning
most surely will have some end.
It is logical and simple thinking;
one with proven enduring trend.
The much that’s made and had
will at some point all be waste.
Timeless happiness will be sad
as every world ends in its haste.
There’s no real loyalty anymore,
everybody wants more for sure.
Family will enslave until you die
and colleagues work a same lie.
All friends are all only as needy;
there’s nothing new about that.
Love is a bargain and so moody,
everything is priced, it is a fact.
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.
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.
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.
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.