Written by Jacob Ibrag It was over the moment you expected me to change. Never accepting the face and soul in front of you. I was this project that you couldn’t wait to fix. You used to be my deity, I would’ve done anything. Photography by Marta Bevacqua
A collection of over 250 poems that reflect on man as the poet and the actor who handles the helm of his affairs, on a timed cruise. His abilities compose and steer his story, as his capabilities and fate enables him. It encapsulates the essence of poetry, using eloquent words to convey the poet’s thoughts and experience. The poet mans the helm, and the cruise is his composed poem.
Download “The poet in the poem” from this link:
THE POET IN THE POEM
The eyes see the tears,
In response repelled are the fears.
The flesh’s demand is so goody,
As sure as it is of the body.
The truth is buried within,
Hidden from all kith and kin.
The conscience ever tells a fact,
As sure as it is of the heart.
The brain’s constant thought
Depends on how deeply it’s taught.
Its reason is based on its find,
As sure as it is of the mind.
The spirit reveals the person,
It eludes comprehended reason.
The future will show the foul,
As sure as it is of the soul.
Interchanged as its suitor,
It tells all about the actor.
The poet mans the helm,
The cruise his composed poem.
This is a collection of over 250 poems that altogether seeks to reflect man as both the poet and the actor who handles the helm of his own affairs, on a timed cruise, down his very own banked personal river. Using his abilities to compose and steer his poetic story, faring only as suitably as his capabilities and fate enables him.
The essence of poetry is in its use of eloquent apt words to convey the poet’s exact thoughts, as they are felt or experienced by him. Like it is the actor’s ability to apply specific skills to portray a scripted character reveals a story, it is likewise the poet’s grant to create the content and set the beauty of the words.
If the soul is scripted, if the mind can think, if the heart does feel and the body is specific; then every individual distinctively roams on a course throughout their lives that can be manipulated to fit their own different experience, but not actually change it. For the poet mans the helm, and the cruise is his composed poem.
A few of the poems…..
Gathered in the skies high,
To roam as mist up high.
It bursts the banks it fills
And cracks downwards to fill.
The hardening effect of frost;
Granite and so harsh a host,
Conquers the whole land
So that air can’t lend a hand.
Mightily the season comes
When the diamond becomes
Water again and it all ends;
Melting into a liquid that fends.
If what is common birth
Forms females or males;
Supremacy is their myth,
Caged within each cells
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?
Pious is the madman, who lives here;
His abode ignored but litters the world.
Platitude, a he cruise his composed
poem. that goes there,
To seclude from the kind his world mould.
Crazy in his rags and papered home,
Pious welcomes his regular guest’s tale.
The rotten egg welcoming the bone;
Like a dog, he shows off his one tail.
They converse about a news item;
The learned Prof reads off his News daily.
Forwarding arguments befitting them,
Each reasoned man’s folly mainly.
Teachers sought reason for the sane,
Making sense of theories as realities.
While the insane do the very same,
Realities as theories are certainties.
In ostentatious escapades of the mad
Roams religious virtue so uncommon
And in sanity’s commonness easily had
Grows the loose morality we do summon.
Embedded in their platonic briefs
Is the story of their common child;
Man’s common sense and beliefs,
Are like madmen’s, when all are blind
Kengua is a transsexual journalist and Laraba is his female colleague, who refuses to be evaded by him. They live out their race for a culled national prestige and their chase for emotional comfort in the intrigues of a demanding society and the diverse people traversing it. Their demand for objectivity is swallowed up in their parochial subjective nature as unconventional controversial persons.
The Whore is ready for download at
This is the story of Kengua, a transsexual journalist, and Laraba, (Strength of a Woman) his female colleague and suitor who refuses to be evaded by him. They are both impressive reporters and this is the story they both live in their race for a culled national prestige.
The tale tells of their chase for an emotional comfort with or without each other, in the intrigues of a demanding society and the diverse people traversing it. Their story takes a haphazard order, seemingly in the future but in a distorted lingering present, but still in a past not ended distinctly. This is their romantic tale, that of the aromatic irrepressible choking political complexities of the Nigeria they inhabit, the civility it borrows but does not keep or practices.
The story is particularly styled to challenge the accepted logical world patterns and its deliberately numbed obvious contradictions.Their demand for objectivity in every possible regard is swallowed up with their own parochial subjective nature as unconventional characters and controversial individuals. This is elabourately ordered to accommodate the magical realism in the bluntness of its entire encompassing exposition.
African, christian, complications, culture, Death, Die, Drama, God, Life, literature, lung infection, Madiba, Mandela, muslim, Nelson, Nelson Mandela, Nigeria, Religion, romance, suspense, thriller, Time, women
Nelson Mandela had an acute lung infection and was having serious breathing complications. He was ill and bedridden for months and kept hidden from the public eyes all through this time. This certainly meant he was in such a bad state and needed help to breathe well. He most likely was put on a ventilator or assisted by some artificial means.
This assistance had most probably kept him alive all those last few months he was alive. For how long was this the case, you wonder? If this assistance was finally taken away, wouldn’t we be correct to conclude that Mandela was finally allowed to die?
Whose decision was this & was it deliberately timed to suit someone’s own idea of the perfect time to let Madiba die?
What do you think?
Does Madiba get his Heaven?