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.
Sometimes circumstances
gets in the way of niceties.
But then certain instances
maketh their opportunities,
without warning or any ease
Taking the ride through life
feels like towed backwards.
Seeing clearer for your self
after you heard your words.
Living likens owing the Gods.
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.
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.
Social media has us not so sure
about what’s true or maybe not
When it’s news, we’re not sure
Not even when it maybe not.
News is new, obviously right?
Must be true, not maybe news
Gray is neither black or white,
So nothing in-between is news
What we do at any point in time
predominantly is act on impulse
All situations in space and time
have some reaction to enforce.
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.
Aren’t we all citizens of earth;
firstly simply humans beings?
Sure as we’re free in thought
we’ll love or hate some things.
We’re too different to be same,
too alike in ways that’re insane.
So the expression of our tastes,
merely make up our many faiths
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.
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.
When last did you’ve a habit?
It just happened on its own
or you toiled and worked at it?
Not the filthy things you do
like smoking or biting nails.
But those tiny trivials we do
Like Indian nod; only they do,
the Negroid’s sense of Rythym
And the Caucasian’s damn ego.
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.
Once a race was in place
for today and tomorrow.
Today says a step to pace,
tomorrow rather they row.
Yesterday the only umpire,
who decided they just wait.
Thus a race we never hear,
tomorrow is today now here;
yesterday is always so unfair.
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.
Within and outside every being
is the good, the bad and the ugly.
It is true of every single entity;
be it inanimate or alive or dying.
Nothing more is fitting naturally.
Eyes liken windows to the head
and the mouth, likens the door.
As open eyes daily enlightened,
the closed mouth the more adore.
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.
Why you dey stone me with eye?
I dey chop my own, no put eye.
This our country na turn by turn;
you chop your own, na my turn.
I swear, if God dey vex true true,
this country for don talk true
Wetin we chop dey our teeth.
Las las, all of us join be thief.
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
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.
Every diamond is a stone,
every single one of them.
Starting off many of none,
later never again all alone;
once it’s known it’s them.
Mere inanimate pieces,
come through hottest hell.
Aged icy glaze gem pieces,
steeled over so many misses
Harden stones with tales to tell
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.
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.
“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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Must I
Stand for something
Not be on a fence
In my defense
Must I
Have an opinion
Not give a care
Or share
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
YasNiger™ 