BLUE WORLD

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.

STREETS ARE CRAZY

Honking is mating season here,
drivers make frog song feel fair.
Hurried races on the sidewalks;
stampedes amidst its tall stalks.

World’s going in one big hurry;
perceptive and focus all blurry.
All life reduced to sprints daily,
as peopled streets are all crazy.

Inspired by @faucon315

WHAT’S THERE IN LIFE



After all what is there in life;
only sleep, wake, sleep again?
What’s there in the living hype,
but bits of joy in a pond of pain.

What’s it to keep and defend,
just come and go as we came?
What’s to have when it all end,
when dust and ash will remain?

I AM RIGHT ABOUT US

“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

“But no, all will not be forgive

EVERYTHING IN TIME

How can someone so smart,
turn out quite so stupid too?
How come someone so loved
could turn out quite so cruel?

There are ever circumstances;
and ever always consequences.
As there’s timing in everything,
are also reasons for everything.

There is everything for its time,
like everything in its own time.

NOTHING

Do you know nothing is yours?
Yes, nothing is ever really yours.

Name what is certainly yours,
one thing that you know is yours?

Nothing in life is actually yours.
Surely not even your name is yours.


YOUR OWN BUILDING

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.

BREATH OF LOVE

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.

DIE OR END



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.

TIME IS ALL

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

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

LONELY SILLY MAN



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.

CRY BABIES


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.

RACIAL RACE



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.

BEHIND SUCCESSFUL MEN



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.

LOST NOT FOUND

Those who love the most
   tend to regret the most.
Those who may feel lost
   are mostly not yet lost.
At the end of a life round
surely all is lost not found.

LIFE IS AN ACT



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

END OF THE WORLD



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.

PRICED UP



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.

SELFLESSNESS IS A MOTHER



Waking is breathtaking daily,

horizons are unendingly new.
Time ticks on and away likely;
everyday an old chore renew.

Her love is a task so sweet,
forged in suicidal sacrifice.
Daily she makes love sweat
murdering her own fire in ice.

SEX IS LIKE

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

SIMPLICITY


Over time immemorial as now
people see beauty as so rare.
Searching as far as they know;
to the world’s ends and near.

But beauty is quite so common,
it’s here, there and everywhere;
in all seen, enjoyed and put on.
The beautiful is simply so near.

Painting by @Falopebrhyme

BEST FRIEND

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.

I AM ONLY HUMAN



I am only human after all,
for I am made up as such.
To grow as high as my fall,
and to make of it as much.

My failings are mine alone
and my victories are for all.
I’m damned bloodied bone,
for I’m only human after all.

PRAYING FOR RAIN

When you pray for rain,
It says a lot about you.
Certainly your brain
has some sense too.

You doubt some science,
and have a lot less faith
in logic and conscience;
as in birth and death.

FUNCTION OF MAN



“The proper function of man
Is to live, not to exist.”

For it is life’s demand
To insist and not persist.

“I shall not waste my days,
In trying to prolong them.”

I shall use my time in ways
That’s fair to me and all men.

LIFE HAPPENS



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.

YOU ARE



You are not special
You’re quite ordinary
Another human misery
Alone inside and solitary

What you make of all this,
That’s what you hit or miss.

DIZZY



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.

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

TRUTH IS A CHILD



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.

HANDS OF TIME



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.

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.

CAGED RIB



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.

RICH BAD STEW



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.

HEADS OR TAILS


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?

LEAVE (Bari)


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.

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.

WHY SHE HAWKS

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?