MEMORIES

It was only yesterday
But the nostalgia of a thousand years flash across my head.
Maybe we had met before birth
But only lose our paths when choosing our parents.

I had been a mess shattered by life
And raped by the protruding dick of
My own stubbornness and in-consistence.
You said I wasn't cursed
When you held my palms at the cinema
And press it into yours and we witnessed it fit perfectly
And looked into my eyes and whisper
"Solace, get over your past".

There could have been no paradise than there in your embrace
In anguish your tears drowned my chest.
Yet it was comfort even in the rain.
It was comfort even though you kept reciting
an unfamiliar poem
"I am taken... I belong to another..."
And I saw the jealous stars stare with their big eyes in envy.

Yes! I was not made for love and for Joy.
I was made for pens and for the staff
But cupid built a castle in my heart and left it unoccupied.
Yes I was made for greater things far tangible
Than the flimsy smoke of love that dies with
the winds
But must every great man mask fame and
glory
In pains masturbate his penis by the taints of a dream wife
Rather than a nasty whore?

Here I stand a colossus in Rome
Knowing too much and making no profits from knowledge.
Salt Water rejects me
But I reject no one
I reject myself with alcohol and saddening.

Yes I had a chance to move on
And I was ready to move on
But the world rejected me.
Death first of all rejected me
Only sorrow became my friend
And this dear Piano that diminishes my minors to sadder tones...

And here I stand condemned by you
Here I stand trashed and humiliated again.
Here I stand loving you from a fair distance,
Here I stand romanced by the foul hands of
fate,
Shattered and sad again
Wondering when this wound will heal.

You thought it was all about Gloria
But no!
So many things changed yesterday,
Just yesterday
And today I'm not just broken, I'm ruined!

IN THE VAST CHASM OF LAZY IMAGINATIONS

In the vast chasm of lazy imaginations,
I see the stars grow on trees like apple.
I talk to Mr Moon often leaning on a wall that leans back on me
In the middle of nowhere
But a beseeming Paradise ruptured and breathed by imagination
Where a hundred percent of my brain functions correctly.

In a world of my own where the wind has no direction
Where you know neither east nor west nor north nor south,
Where there is no time, no season, no setting.
But lawlessness in the flimsy façade of illusions guile
And tantalizing experience and endless dreams and steep sleep
In abhorring  strain that mortality wear
And denounced from nonsensical precepts and obligations.
Expelled to immortality and power...

But acrimony would always find its way
Into a party uninvited accompanied by Judges
Who dictates your life reading health by the books.

But if I had a life as great as yours
A life followed by the books
Not denounced with a broken childhood
I would have had two wings tucked in my sides,
I would have flapped them and sore to Mars.

But I had lemon for juice
Cigarette for company,
Scowling for instructions,
How life must have been famous in hardship
But I have yet this slate and this state in this estate.

I am a god!

THIS ART

It paints us. This art.
We are the artists. We are the art.

We are the pencil. We are the ink.
Our experience is the pencil. Our blood the ink.

We cry as we picture our best lines
Even when the lions chase and wolves flash their canines.

We go through pains that you enjoy our arts.
You and life. I mean you break our hearts.

Families depart. We were expected to manage companies
For sport they say is worth more than royalties.

But I see no royalty. I only see passion cracking out of my iron chest
And this wisdom who so torment me to you I give my best.

I see broken shadows I must craft to existence
I feel pains and agony row down the rivers of experience

And I have nothing but this card-board and this brush
Painting myself in different forms. I your crush.

Your crush? I your fiend.
But you call me your friend

And I see every honest lie. I pen terrible things.
I am the one that all your life's laws sting.

And this images haunt me day and night
My own imagination. My own fright.

My own making to whom I gave breathe and agility
In a cold blooded war with me

My own paintings horribly coming to life like ghosts
Hoasting a war upon their hosts.

This art is not just knowledge. Knowledge is not enough
This art is expensive. Currency is not enough

To pay for their deaths. Broken families
Tattered childhood. Traumatic fantasies.

Faulty parentage. Way-ward independence
Street hooliganism. Selfless existence.

Everyday I paint myself  in diver colors. This my art
My love. We will never part.

IYUNLOYE __(The Facade Beauty of a Deceptive Woman)

"What did happen here?
Why are there no men?
No houses, no cattle, no farms?"

"My dear Anlugbau, there had been a war
A curse you gods had chose not to uplift.
It is the façade beauty of a deceptive woman
The very example of the power of a woman
Iyunloye she's called
The only true love of the Maye leader of the allied forces.

They came to us like a thunder-storm
After a clear horizon with a blue sky  on a sunny afternoon.
They fell on us like the exodus of locusts,
Devoured our green-land and smoked our city
While we were jubilating and dancing
Thinking they had already retreated their siege.
But they had only retreated into the forest to fool us
So that we would fling our gates open in carnival;
It was only a formation of war
The Japanese call  'the tortoise formation'.

They have slaughtered all our men even the children
No single one left, no vibrations of the coarse masculine voice
To strengthen and reassure the women.
They have also defiled the chaste ladies, break brutally through
And unveil the supple tendrils of their innocent virginity
Even the betrothed of the gods, none was spared.

Now this is the dregs of Owu Ipole
Broken widows and orphans condemned to captivity.
This is Owu the pride of Yoruba-land disintegrated to rubble,
Humbled by the façade beauty of a deceptive woman..."

"Mnn...! Men, they are too obstinate,
Too carefree, too greedy and foolish.
Did not the gods warn the birth of that boy,
That lustful Prince, that cursed son of Lawumi?
Did not we the heavenly blow an alarm towards his birth?
We said he must not live, sacrifice him to uplift a terrible fate
But your queen took him and hid him for motherly love.
Now he has brought this tribulation to my people
My beloved city Owu Ipole whose very foundations I helped lay
By stealing the wife of  Okunade the one endowed by
Obatala the god of creativity with the gift of craft-man-ship.
A mighty artist now turned warlord!

This is the problem with men
They will continue chasing vanity.
That is the problem with love
It causes havoc and commotion.
But I said before I left the earth and turned into a mountain,
Pull my chains, call me when there is trouble
And I will come before you sword in hand to cut them asunder
But how was it nobody remembered my shrine?"

"My lord Anlugbua, when man is in the gravest devastation,
The gods become starkly deafened and blind.
The gods would always tempt man with a barrier he can't jump across
So they would have excuses and reasons to showcase their powers.
Did you not hear our cries when the enemy's blades slit our necks?
Did you not hear our husband and sons parry
As the enemies blade traveled through their stomach?
Or did you not inhale the smokes of our tribulation condense in your heaven?
We never ceased in worship and pouring libations
But now we understand the gods only use man as a tool to showcase their prowess..."




(An excerpt of FEMI OSOFISAN'S Women of Owu).

THE MAN FOR THE WORLD

Thanks to everyone
Who have helped me this far.
Now I have a heart ten centimeters thicker than yours.
I can take in everything.

Now I am strong, not mill-able by your nonsense.
Now I can be called a soldier fit for this warfare.
Who cares someone is dying?
I can take off the horror and beat off the emotions by just winking.

Now this is the man
The man for the world.
This is that fragment of your mortal making.
Sure, now I am strong, very strong indeed
Who cares if a child is suffering in the street?
I can kill that bad feeling with just a wink.

This is the man for the world
The previous was too merciful,
"Too weak" the world calls being merciful
Who cares a baby is being pounded in a mortar?
I can easily break that horrible feeling with just a smile
Because this is the man for the world.

Who cares about democracy?
Fools! That fictional character?
That person never existed.

Who cares if the taxes and electric bills are shared amongst us
In the CABINET OF MEN, or if the masses suffer?
Fools! Why do you think I care?

I only care about myself as a man for the world
Because when I did care about you
You ignored me.
You used me, you looked at me with disdain
Now I am a man for the world!
That man for all people
That villain! And wow!
How people love me so!
Fools!

FAULTY PARENTAGE

The first time my twin brother saw my mum fuck a stranger
He threw his x-box away and murmured to the stars till morning.
I hugged him when he broke the news
Because I felt the extent of his frustrations,
I was already hard for the things I knew but couldn't say,
Well such is life!

He narrowly escaped jail for attempted murder at fourteen
Over an attack lodged on a terrific thug who kissed mum
Now I wish he was jailed than sleep in the vault.
We didn't live in a  barrack, but we were in the middle of a war.
Today I love it when Eminem say:
"Maybe that's what happens when a tornado meets a volcano...".

Dad was a corollary rage broken by the hem of a tattered woman
Danny was the end product of parental imperfection
I was only the sheep of the family keeping horrible records.
Once he was vexed and riled and grin in tremendous fury
The first time I saw him smoking weed
He said: "they say it's good for blinding memories".
"Brother" I rather answered,
"You do not choose your parents
Lest we would never learn to rise from the dust and right their wrongs".

MYSTERY GIRL

A voice from the dark,
From the deepest abyss of thoughts.
A shadow,
A figure scraped out of illusion that seizes the heart,
A smoke that lost in the winds
Yet re-percussive.
An angel beheld by the mind's eye
Bred by the guile hands of carnality.

She can only be seen on screen
Yet gongs the heart's drum so hard.
The piper tunes a cheering sorrowful tune to her vows
Those oaths shames the heavens,
It is called 'chastity'.

She's got wits and reasons powerful enough to bend anything.
Will, zeal and enthusiasm are understatements,
But she can only be seen on screen.

Sometimes I wonder if she exists
Or she's just another dream.
If she does, I would live a thousand years for an accident,
Or a million more for a chance.
But she can only be seen on screen
How sad!

A voice from the earphones,
A tangible illusion,
A life without blood
A new symptom for insanity.
My mystery girl,
She can only be seen on screen!

Solitude grips as her intents echoes rejection.
I detest alcohol, if alcohol is an unworthy friend.
I reject my past if yesterday dents her smiles
She is yam, I am oil-palm.
But she can only be seen on screen!

AFRICAN WOMAN

I gave 'hem a discreet name coated wit' 'e dent of 'overration'
But they carried their shoulders high
And sank in the deep black sea of perdition.
The world gives them nothing but a lie.
Rotten girls too vulnerable to the scent of crispy mint
Has disgraced womanhood and their future tint.

But a girl like you would set the heart ablaze
For a stand-out décor, an uncommon vessel you were designed
And for your stock men should be amaze
For so many with you can't be aligned.

When other women call their face an 'asset'
You build your mind to be stronger than a rock.
If only the world's contradictions will let,
I'll say "take it, my heart; it's yours to rock"
And we will build our home in Venus
Free from the talks from their anus.

What a burden it must had been to had shun the temptations of men
And the corruption of your peers!
How you fought against 'high-hills' and then
Jewellery and wicks and their mockery didn't gather  tears!
You had always been that woman
That African woman.

A girl like you would become a good mother
Not a wedded woman but a wife.
A girl like you would father the man with a perfect manner
And he would trust you with his life.

A girl like you needs a man like me
But the world is too filthy for even me to be trusted.
You are a warrior beauty
A girl like you can never be defeated.

JULIUS CAESAR

Beware the Ides of March" the soothsayer horned
But bravery and goodwill will not allow.
The world has no time nor room for such noble fashion,
They pay no homage, no respect to excellence.

The gates of hell has a warmer embrace
And Hell itself knows most peace.
I had lived in both silence and humor and master both arts
In the world your best intentions are oft misunderstood.

You stand for them, they kick you.
You have a seizure, they mock your disease.
Friends become fiends; they stab you
Oh Brutus! Oh Brutus!

Look at this wound. How it bores deeper than an abyss!
Look at this cut on my back they are still bleeding.
He whined and parried when he buried his knife into my chest
His eyes red in defiance; I never knew this fellow
But he was my friend, my best friend Brutus.

The bruises laid by enemies heals with just a stitch
But a wound from a mortal friend is immortal.
I blame myself and excess nobility,
I had fancied too much the welfare of the entire society
And they had in accord borrowed a spade.

Even though I am today condemned to misery and eternal corruption,
I am a colossus standing tall in the streets of Rome.
I had my flaws, yes! And I did many wrongs
I had an imperfection which no man had ever lived without
I invented foul tactics that bounced against me just to win your wars.

I had rights that I did wrong
I had a foul temperament towards you all my friends
I wrote lines that depicted your failures and ignored mine
But I wielded a sabre to defend your interests
I did more rights than wrongs.

There were people I should have lived for but I went wild in the chase for goose
Dearest Mirac Mac Anthony, Portia Emannuel Stella
Oration cannot resurrect the dead
I love you all
I love you all
My name is JULIUS CAESAR.

FAIRYTALE

Have not I watched the Exodus of Israel in and out of Jericho?
And in the harlot's room saw refuge?
I have seen volcanic mountains drop to rubles,
But here I stand.
The world changes her garments but I change none,
Here I stand penning the details.

They come and go but here I stand
Admiring your flaws and correcting mine.
It's a fairy-tale when we say love heals
Or love erodes all wrong.
It's a fairy-tale indeed to speak of 'happiness'
That greedy fellow.
It's a fairy-tale indeed that we fall and rise
And then leap so carelessly disregarding memories.
We fall again and fall to rise no more;
But today tales are not said with much 'agonal ecstasy' as the story itself
But with banters in place of tears.
It's a fairy-tale indeed that we loved
And swore prayers like the sons of God
And now they lay in acrid silence in the sepulcher.
It is indeed a shame that our dreams never came true;
It is a fairy-tale indeed that I can be loved any-more
And a thing of pity that I do not love those who love me.

But such is the spice of life
Who am I to question God?
Filthy me? Me idol?
This is not the life that we dreamt
But this is an illusion worth exploring.
After-all, love is accursed,
We do not end up with the people we truly love.
Maybe one day we will all wake up and call this a dream.

I am Jesus Christ
I know you will dispute
But that too is a fairytale to unbelievers.

GOD ALONE

When there's no more hope and in the void you are alone
God comes in-between, because God is alone.
When there is no more strength found in you
And in the lion's den fangs surround you
God come in-between an quickens your bone
For he is with you when you are alone...

When the tempest rage in the middle of the sea
And you have no direction only Jehovah can see
And your anchor be; Your compass becomes the wind
I mean the crazy hurricane becomes kind
And your vessel unharmed will scramble on ice and on a mighty stone
For there is God alone..

He is not stormed, when your parents voices still guide
And unmoved when friends supports still stand 'stride.
He is numb and dumb when in life there's still an option
For he is 'Divine Intervention';
Mother of the motherless, father of the hopeless,
His deeds are miraculous and the low he bless.

God is God alone and in Majesty alone,
Yahweh is God alone and helper of the lone
For he rolled away the mighty tomb stone
When corruption wounded Lazarus to the grave alone
And then in his tender love our sins atone
On Golgotha's theater and cavalry's stage he quickens my bone...

Now I have cause to sing freedom
Oh Jehovah, thy Kingdom come!

For the dirty is washed clean
Redemption! Redemption! Redemption from sin.
The sons of Cush are now as white as WWE' s Sheamus
Freedom! Freedom! His grace is upon us.

JIMMY IS LEAVING TODAY

Jimmy is leaving today,
We don't know where he is going
To death or to life, to freedom or to jail?

One of the 'Hang-Man' had read his name from the book
In a tense and casual tone.
He knows it is his fate,
He had admitted that it is too late...

Jimmy is leaving today,
To stand before 'holy Potentates' in judgement,
To watch decayed faces castigate crimes they are better 'Guilts'.

He had been broken by sticks and stones,
Tortured, beaten, tormented for 'The Worst Crime in the World'
And the worst crime in the world surprisingly is Poverty.

Jimmy is leaving today after being betrayed by life
And blessed with ill-luck and misfortunes...
His wife had sold his child to salvage him from sickness and death
without his consent and the police was informed.

Now this is crime - True Love
This is crime - Survival
This is crime - Poverty.

Jimmy is leaving today,
we don't know where he is going
But we know he is leaving because he had no money to give to the IPO
Jimmy is leaving because of poverty
He is leaving because of injustice
He is leaving because of man's hatred towards man
He is leaving because of the court's exaggeration of the law
He is leaving because the law was made against the poor
He is leaving for worse.

The court is no doubt a microcosm of the nation
The police twin brother to corruption.
Is crime Jimmy's wife saving her husband's life
Or the police making 'Bail free'?
Is the prison made only for the poor
Or the rotten pulpit of the judiciary made for the needy?

'Public ants'! You break into peoples houses to steal
With pens for weapons
Deceit and designation for hammers and thistles
Yet you hang the gunmen your colleagues, your partner in crime
How different art thou?
Traitors! Newline your schemes....

RIDDLE

'When a beggar dies there are no comets seen'
So the heavens needs not shake for your revival.
They say where there is life there is hope.

Watch! Lest you blame your misfortunes on the world
For every fate you suffer is nothing but the other side of your coin.

Every man is responsible for his life.

Is not the wages of sin death?

This is my poetry and it makes no sense
It makes no sense to the ordinary man,
For according to Achebe
'Proverb is the palm oil in which wisdom is eaten with'
Withdraw the sickle, the harvest is not yet ripe!
Look closely for those letters that are broken.

I am a Micro-colonial Fungi,
I forge my paradise on rocks
so ants do not bend come dry season
to carry my remains into their caves.

Do not mind my riddles
it is sent to train the wise and to torment the foolish.
It is sent to thwart your education...

PEOPLE ARE LIVING THERE

Not all lives are lives
Some are our 'flawful' imagination.
To live doesn't mean we are alive
For we are nothing but walking dead,
We are zombies.

But what makes us think we are important that we say
"Let the bad and evil things go afar?"
And the elders corrects by saying:
"Afar, people are living there".

People are living there in the riverine area on those stench mud
When the waters withdraw to tide.
People are living there under city bridges to shelter just for the day.
People are living there in that mobile cart hoping they find straw to feed the horses with
Before they get to worry about their own survival.
People are living there in yond orphanages and has never felt the warmth of a parents embrace.
People are living there farming just to sustain the family.

I mean there where we spew our venom
And shoot our arrow of curses and say
"Let the evil and bad things go afar"
And make the elders correct by saying
"afar, people are living there".

Why do we castigate and disdain fellow men
When we are nothing but the craft of a higher God
Who may choose to erase us or newline his scheme without us?
The only difference between us and these people is 'Time and Chance'.

We are fools fooled by by our own foolery.
Our foolery is pride and obsession.
Our foolery is too much education and lack of understanding.
We are struck by many diseases
And the primus is myopia.
We will all certainly die,
Afterall what you run from you run into.

Be careful friends,
People are living there
Where we spew venom and conjure, bidding evil to harm,
Remember the elders words
"Afar, people are living there".

WINDOW MAN

He is a nocturnal Zombie,
A neo-noir horrible night crawler
Acting horror in our minds.
You will find him on hostel windows and doors
With sharp canines drenched with blood;

They say he died many years ago
And was buried underneath our school hostel
Which according to hearsay was a cemetery.
Some say he was the school's first compound master
That was killed by a student so he comes to haunt students.

Once Tobi said she saw him in a kaftan like a saffron robe
With dreadlocks and horrible face stirring at her from the dark
Crying blood and calling her to come help him.
One night I even heard him following me from the toilet.
I felt his presence and all of my body trembled
Like an electric cable was plugged on my head
And the shock riled down my spine and down every part of my body.
And when I turned back it seemed like he was there
And then like he was not there
Then my head became heavy and turgid
Like I was falling down helplessly from heaven
And when I turned around again I saw him a giant mist of darkness
Drenched in blood with sharp canines
Reaching out to catch me so I ran the fastest I could..

Window Man,
He is that monster in every High School hostels
Sent from the underworld to torment.
He was that horrible character that was and was not
That acuity and perception that proved to us we were young
That timidity and fear that is inherent in innocence.

And now when we sit and reminiscence the folly of childhood,
We laugh ourselves to scorn;
But the truth is we've lost everything
We've lost our true being
Robbed by age and corrupt by experience.
We believed everything because we were holy.

THE CARNIVAL OF MUSHROOMS

Where is the happiness that I asked for?
Where is the glee I so deserve?
Where is the mirth I worked for?
Or the laughter my soul yearns?
Are they burnt out lately
Or slowly dancing after the old lady?
Would this transition ever end?

I asked for freedom, but you gave me birth.
I asked to grow up to become my own man
To choose from unrighteousness and
righteousness,
But you gave me challenges.
I fought with a lion and I thought
I had won the battle
But you told me to skin another leopard
And cover the hide on a drum
And I knew you would ask me to beat the
drum too.

I strike the drum men sprouted from the
ground like mushrooms
They danced barefooted
With recognized broken lines across their
faces
Upon a floor tiled with glass chips and
thorns.
Blood oozed from their naked soles
Until the storm came and wipe them away.
Death only means birth, another generation
came
And we continued the carnival
From dispensation to dispensation.

I looked into their sunken eyes
I read so many chapters,
I saw a generation drenched in hate
A people robbed of peace
Fluttering like daffs in the winds.
Men hug the air
Women stand in akimbo
Children carry their own hands on their heads.
Ready for the next phase, ready to live a death.

The hurricane of life stumbles on
It started from the garden
But tends to end nowhere,
No day soon, no day coming;
All men frown laughter content with the
inevitable
It is the carnival of mushrooms!

ABOVE THE LAW

You are Potentate
Your food is ants.
Pride and Power is your nutrition.
You are above the law,
You step on it, you trample it.

You are the business man
You have charisma and resources.
With your 'generous burnt offerings' of 'Chinese See Weeds',
You frighten the 'Rigid Constitution'
Who carries the face of a polyester brought to fire.

You are the renowned military man,
You are also a 'Civil Army'
You punish offenders, you combat evil,
But the darkness of your soul
can't be struck by a cannon
for you are above the law.

You are the face of education
You are the very sanity of the nation.
Your children, brothers, cousins and friends
Need not write exams to be called professors
'cause you are above the law.

You are the political elite
You are the paramount citizen
The one unto whom everyone look up to for ease in life,
In your hands the safety of the community is ensured
But your children are abroad for fear of abduction

You are the religious leader
The quintessential of faith.
You bear the mark, the seal of God
Yet you have divorced and remarried a million times
'Polygamy in a refined order'
Or do I call it 'immorality in a legal anonymity'?
Yet this puppets priced out of their conscience,
This slaves to biblical ignorance whose strings you pull,
These elephants with the brains of an ant
believes still in your vibes
Not recognizing when God's anointing left Saul to the house of Jesse.

Doth not the law teach a different tradition?
Doth not it speak a different language
from that which it is originally known?
Doth not Potentate change the order?
Oh is the law forged to affect the poor and helpless only?
Oh guile generation
Thou wilt not my restless ink dry!

THE HARMATTERN

The harmattern is a hot dry and dusty wind
That evades West Africa during winter.
It blocks visibility as a result of a misty fog
Made of sand and dust particles scattered in the atmosphere.
The harmattern air is dry and sharper than a Persian sabre
Sucks dry tender plants and destroying things in its way.

The harmattern is injurious, cuts skins around the lips
Lowers humidity and suck dews.
The harmattern is dry, cold, unhealthy and dangerous
It comes from the Sahara dessert meteorology says
But at its first advent I noticed it on a boat.

It arose from the sea, polished goodwill
Breaking and creaking trees on its way.
It landed on the market square like furious mobs;
A ferocious tornado, swept the market women
And cut asunder the Shepherds cattle.

The harmattern, it brought with it a war
A devastating Battle of Liberation;
A heinous war of mortals fighting for freedom
Even if we needed not conquer empires and thrones
To bequeath this undying chains.
We needed not slay kings and Princes
For a pole redemption of nothing
But vanity and cantankerous mishaps.

Do they not say a war ends when another war begins?
Or can a lion beget a sheep?
We are breads in a bakers pan,
Whatever dent our cake-pan bears leaves a mark on us.
We wanted freedom and we had it
As a renowned "freedom of chains".

The harmattern is even severe this days,
It flints, flings and sprint things causing more commotion
Like a loosed vehicle in gear without a break nor a driver.

It has new-lined its schemes,
It storms the air and carry papers and
waterproofs in sundry.
Today we wake up without an omen.
The augurs are dead, some turned celebrities
Without Proles the house of order goes asunder
Where are the prophets?

The harmattern yesterday was even considerate
Today we carnival and party in the birthday of still-born.
Now we are modernized,
The modernity of foolery
We are modern slaves not bound with chains
But with Paraleipsis, rhetorics and ambiguity
We are blown by the wind of surprises not
questioning.

NYCTOPHOBIA

I am a girl who always walk alone
Sometimes down long quiet streets and appeased zone.
One day in a park long relinquished by humans,
A ball-room for owls and ravens;
I loved taking that route back home,
It was the shortest route to Rome.

Often I will swirl and whirl and rile and reel
Sometimes barefooted romancing the roses I was given by Jibril,
Not until I heard a spark like the laughter of a hen
A sudden rush of molten magma cackling; then
The entire walk-way went naked in void and darkness,
A wicked and violent stillness.

I waited for a while to garner enough courage,
A courage that won't last five footage
As my head spins in its cicumambulate
In an intense fear and horror-gripped state
Performing horror movies that were never shut nor scripted
Imagining faces from Halloween that never really existed.

Most times, I will see a woman with scattered hair
In a saffron robe or a long gown, a flare
With her head down casting a spell
Reckoning me to come and sometimes ringing a bell.
Sometimes she seems to have claws and fangs
Like a dread wild pig kept at Mr Lang's.

Or I will feel a presence, like someone following me
I will stop and look around to see
Nothing but utter darkness and acrid heaviness
Palpitating and throbbing in fickle 'wistness';
Then I will hear an owl hoot from a tree beam
And I will twitch and then scream.....

Could anyone hear the echoes of my shrill in this misery?
Could someone come with a magic lamp and rescue me
Out of the fangs and talons of this horrible night?
From this dim-doomed darkness could there be divine light?
No! The world only make way
For those alone who seek a way.

This is my own fear, and I am a star
This is my own battle, my own war.
Imagination is far important than knowledge
And mine shall never stand at war against me I pledge.
I shall swim in darkness and its lovely talons caress
From today I will not be afraid of darkness.

JOE

He was only talking to the moon and counting the stars
Conjuring the harmattan dust to pave way to his sights
I'm not sure he did see anything for the fog
Or perhaps he was imagining their numbers
But I did hear him murmur a language that sounded like celtic
Or ancient Egyptian or nonsense.

The nights had recently become colder
And the year very young and fresh
But the agility of the period had no effect on him.
He lost his two sons in the war
And his wife for the shock of their death
So he has no reasons to muse over nostalgias.
He has no wife, he is a solitary man.

On sunny afternoons he would hide under trees with his flute
Shredding a sad tone to the air
He seldom talks, he seems to have quarrelled with the world.
He doesn't work, he toils only a plot of land
He lives between music and akai-kai
He must have suffered a lot from fate.

People do not understand him
How life must have been hard permed with the trauma,
Why there is no cause for living.
Children mock him, taunt him
People do not care
But when I dropped some crispy mints into his scrawny palms
He swore a prayer or two that still lives with me.

He was a soldier
Therefore it takes more than training and guns to break a man
How the mighty has fallen!
He told me of the war
With the mixed hysterias of both laughter and tears
As we whine the day off with Cola-nuts and kai-kai.

I told him of my misfortunes too
We exchanged advices and comfort
Which were short-lived as we continued each to our lives.
Yet it was a memorable encounter meeting Joe
And visiting the village.

WHO DO WE THINK WE ARE?

Who do we think we are
To  be too confident and fearless?
That we roar angrily like a labouring lioness?

Who do we think we are
To be too full of ourselves so much that we disdain brothers?
That we thread on spikes and go harmless?

Who do we think we are?
We carcasses?
we common mosquitoes?

Who do we think we are to be called Jesus?
To be venerated as Lords over equals
And abuse the laws ancient and grey?

Who are we to walk on waters without sinking?
Who are we to walk out of a lion's den?
Who are we to comfort in a burning flame?

Is it not Divine  Providence,
That we shake the bee-hive and leave not stunk,
That we caress the fangs of Hades and add to our days?

It is divine Providence that we who deserves no breathe
Stand even pompous and agile
Fooled by our energy we become ingrates.

We are too reckless and carefree
Not acknowledging Powers beyond our knowledge
That we who are nothing should be this forgetful!

Should we then, knowing we are dust and air
For greed and dark ambitions harm our kind
Acknowledging we will like the very wink of an eye pass-away?

Should we then who are but candles lit by a higher hand burn sprightly
For vanity wear our mortal layer?
Should we be so highly esteemed despite our fragile mortality?

Lord, thou who does not judge man but keepeth him by grace,
For I being judged will no value make before your eyes
Pray that your grace abound and extend to all carnal men.

For man too vain in thoughts and in living has made himself a god
And claim the libations poured to the higher spirits.
He has edified himself to the coats of the almighty.

The sons of Babel! must you build another tower to see God?
Lord, for I being David's son; sinful and  remorseful
Pray still that you keep me thine! 

YOU CAME TO LIFE MY ART

A thing as flimsy as ice
And visions through crystal eyes.
A thing as light as cork and jokes
Or cackles forged through banters strokes.
An entity as good as illusion
The value of half a pence to a centurion.
You are smoke and dusts
The figures of my imaginary lusts.
Chaffs in the wind floundered and stirred about
By my green creative chief scout.
Designed and housed with fickleness
Which is normal to my mental illness.
Sometimes you think I am mad
No it is this one that is so sad,
This Traveller men call Art
This Possessive Devil that gives a head-start
Before ordinary men who waste their time
Arguing and doubting or aura de-clime
Call me a star which of course I am; a star
For being able to accompany this noble pen thus
far.
This is my nobility; honesty.
That gall as blank 'n' empty as mystery.
You are all smoke and dusts
The figures of my imaginary lusts
That frets upon my fictitious screen.
You are my dream lovers sprung from
imagination.
You are my most valued friend
A clown, an antagonist as well as a fiend.
You have blasphemed with my name
And has written eulogies to crown my fame.
And when I in pensive mood do lay
Relishing yesterday and bored by the day,
I hear your pretentious murmurs
Some of piety, some of love, some of the guile rudiments of augurs.
Yet others of jealousy and hatred
Or of the sea monsters in them inbred.
In this gory imagination I have found friends
Lovers, clowns and alike fiends.
Some say I indulge too much in drunkenness
If I choose not the pipe, the world is in itself a
thing of drunkenness.
I am wild and that I know
My fickle rationality has not been a show.
I fall, I rise, I stumble, I stagger.
I have been broken by both acts and chatter
Your holy gossips, even though you are my own
creation
My thoughts, my holy imagination.
If this stanza speaks with angelic voice life men would ask questions
Some would revise; fools actions!
Experience showed me he is the worst teacher,
So I never asked him to become my master.
You are my mistakes, my past
Out of your reforms at last
I got my finest works in beauty
And in style most magnificently 'tinty'.
You are a thing of wonder,
Begotten and burned through arts fire.
How the mind works wonders!
How Jehovah works wonders!
You I gave breathe to me too
In diversity you have given it in your defiance as due.
But some are yet to conquer life so lethal
I had already won a golden medal
For everything is smoke and dusts
The figures of my imaginary lusts
And you are all but pencils and card-boards
Hammers 'n' woods to be framed by art Lords.

ALPHA MALE

I am that survivor where many would lose their lives.
I surprise life because I am an adapter trying
every day to thwart his vain muscles.

I dodge every swing of your blows.
Some strike me heavily like the heavy pound of a beer's fist
And like a punching-bag you punch my four cardinals to rubbish.
I fall and I rise
I never cry.
I must be strong for myself left alone or who will?

I will tell you "my heart is twenty centimetres thicker than yours"
When in my closet I weep.
I wail and weep only to myself
And shame the public with a wry smile,
A fickle laughter, and a teary banter
Whenever the world mock my poor state.

I am the wrong. My opinions are weird.
I am too full of myself and pompous,
I scorn that notion and consider your education vain
Because common sense should tell you a beggar have no choice.

I am iron. Stick and stones can't break my bones.
I am bullet proof.
I hide my strength within my silence
And the evil winks that burn your knowledge
I strife to survive without being bossed
You call it pride, I call it arrogance.
Yes! A man should be arrogant
Not buying opinions but asserting his.
That is what guarantees the woman does not pay his bride price.

My family connived with the cosmos to sell me out to disgrace.
My friends wielded the sword,
My lovers perish in pretence as my blood flood the earth.
They dictate your every weakness
The world is such a silly place.

You shouldn't expect me to cry before you understand I'm broken
For you had connived with life to make me strong.
You shouldn't expect me to kneel before you forgive
For I'm already used to standing in war against life.
I am Alpha Male.
I didn't learn it. Life made me.

I call you brother, you call me cousin.
You name the distance. I cut the ties.
Yesterday was once today.
Now you reminiscence improper.
Tomorrow, today will be history, it doesn't matter.
But what will you feed the records?
That I be crucified for I skipped being your imaginations?
I trust this theatre to pay well at resolution.

THE CYCLE WILL STILL TALK ABOUT YOU

What do we do?
When the treasures we owe in high esteem are in the wrong hands?
But that our bloods in us revel in sadness.

What do we do when choices give us no choice
But turn us into mountains and our souls into gods?
I am the last God;
Take it or not.
I am the God you have refused to worship.

But the cycle will still talk about you
And I will take it back, their words.
They will ask those questions
That will cause tears to storm from the deep blue sea.
They will say I'm stupid
And the piano will produce a sadder sound.
But I will take it back for peace.

But I will miss you.
The fun, the gist and the happy times.
I will miss your smile and the cold attitude
I will miss your frowns and personality
But in life we don't often get what we want
Especially the things we deserve
Because they are in the wrong hands.
But the cycle will not care,
They will still talk about you.

The cycle will still talk about you
But I will flip open the next page of life's book
And write about curses and broken hearts.
For it wasn't an end like I thought,
It was a fairytale
It was one of those shocking dreams
We will wish not to wake up from.
And when the cycle is done with all their assaults and accusations
I will tell them a sad story,
A moonlight tale of soldiers and kings,
Of arts and crafts and culture,
Of accidents and broken childhood
Of Top-Mainland Bridge and 2012
And the cycle will revel in tears.

TALKING TO THE SPIRIT III

Gloria, 

It's all gone. 

All the love. All the faith. 

All the dreams. All the bonds. 

All the promises. All the vows 

Shattered by an unforeseen hand. 

Perhaps, this is what fate is. 

Destiny is a liar.

TALKING TO THE SPIRIT II

Gloria,
I brought this flowers to adorn your grave
They are of great fragrance and beautiful stocks
I heard the underworld is a stinky cave
And you my angel is held by her locks.

Gloria,
I visit here at least once a year
No matter what part of the world I stay
Not because to promises I'm too dear
But because a part of me here beneath lay.

Gloria,
Do you still remember Stella?
She's still afraid of the dark and still plays truth or dare
She has still not fallen in love with any fellah
And I still shield her under my tender care.

Gloria,
I did not come here to caress the horrible past
I came here to seek your blessings
For I have found your evil twin and hope that we last
I see you in her and I hope for 'silver linings.'

Gloria,
This doesn't mean an end for us,
It means a new candle for the carnival
You? I can never forget this great loss
Even if the earth tumble withal.

Gloria,
Time has passed and this carvings are waxing old
But our bonds has not changed.
My heart is still numb and cold
But that is about to be changed.

Gloria,
I have found her, I'm sorry it's no longer you.
I remember you often told me to move on
That decision is in itself bitter too.
I love you and in my heart you will forever live on.

EROTICA

In the acrid ecstasy of the deadliest delight
We claw and chain our mortal immortality in fated bond
In pleasurably postures our nakedness met with stern recognition
In between insanity and sanity
As I jerked and napped my dick
Into and upon her embracing femininity.

I stroked and rolled and scrolled
Legs on my shoulders,
Sometimes butts banging my pelvis
One-two-three, one-two-three!
And the abyss contracted then expanded
As she clawed my back in pants and wails
Not of pains but of enjoyment
Reckoning me deeper and to touch the last floor.
With squeezes she spreads wide her laps
As my salvation soldier travel to and fro.

The hardest core, the deepest penetration,
I felt a sudden rush of ecstasy as if electrocuted down my spine,
A moment of uncontrollable insanity
And when it had climbed to its apex
We both erupted like a volcanic mountain
Or a storm of avalanche rolling down the  Himalayas  rocks.

After she might have lost the key of fun
Pain set in and she parried a prayer or two
I must have gone mad for I heeded not her prayers
As I feasted like a hungry lion.
Then it subsided suddenly after the rush got expelled from my manhood
In the form of a venom exchange;
Then I remembered a snake did crawled past my back
And that I was in a forest.
But the evening later ended in kisses and cuddles...

AFRICANS SPEAK OF LEGENDS

When the elders say there is a ghost standing under the Udala tree
Or that the coming and going of Abiku resonates
We the civil and formal say ignorance is a disease.

When the hunters talk about ferries and mermaids
And of their different encounters with spirit forces
We hybrids of both science and religion
Throw despicable jibe on the former things.

We call them Neanderthal,
The very old religion which place dope our foundations
Conquered by the boat, we sell our prestige and deny our culture.

When the Africans speak of legends
The white men scoff and jeer with acrid derision
And call us monkey. We aid the fire to our mockery
For doubting when the midwife say the foetus is a boy
And we seek the consent of stethoscope and ultra light scan
To agree the expected will be a man.

The question is why should the Devil in every picture be painted
A black man with two horns and the Angels a white man?
Is black a disease? I doubt!

Why should Ekpo, Ekpe, Abon or new yam festivals and traditional rites become a sin
And Halloween, Saint Valentine's Day, and Amazonian carnivals worthwhile?
Foolish generation!
What is the difference between 'white wedding' and 'traditional wedding?'
And yet when the elders speak of legends,
You open your toilets for a mouth and call it primitive.

The Africans will still speak of legends call it myths if you will
Or ask your science and civilisation, bloody liars! to tell me
How vegetable gets into an infants faeces who is yet fed with breast.

The Africans will still speak of legends
For it is their true lifeline fire quenched by modernity.
Their ancestors lived longer than the present generation
Without religion, without science and without canned food
But with herbs
And in veneration to the edified and in adherence to the custom.

So the Africans will still speak of legends.

AS THE CUSTOM DEMANDS

As the custom demands,
Let us run a test, not urine test.
Let the midwife run her hands around her tummy
And tell you the foetus is a boy.

As the custom demands,
Let us foam oil-palm with potash and consume our yams
Not with spices and seasoning artificial ruin our taste.
Let us mix salt and water to cure stomach aches
Not with paracetamol and novalgin.

As the custom demands,
let's sing moonlight songs and tell tales
Of heroes and ancestors and of great battles.
Let the drums call for lost traditional carnivals
And reckon yesterday's serenity,
Let the elders count the seasons and forecast the horizons
According to their features
And tell us how the soil would yield.

As the custom demands,
Let's pour libations to appease the Gods
And pray to the spirits with spirits.
Let the smokes of worship and the sweet savours of goats
Rise to the heavens for mercy.

As the custom demands,
Let our young women return to honouring virginity.
Let our young men protect the laws of morality
And glow with a lustre of fair patriotism.
Let our fashion depict sanity and culture,
Let our language portray wisdom.

As the custom demands,
Oh, Africa!
Let's return back to Africa and be Africans!

TALKING TO THE SPIRIT

Gloria,
I brought this flowers to adorn your grave
They are of great fragrance and beautiful stocks.
I heard the underworld is ruined by the stench of decadence
And you my angel cannot make it home.

Gloria,
I visit here at least once a year
No matter what part of the world I stay
Not because I'm too kind to promises,
But because a part of me is here earthed.

Gloria,
Can you still remember Anthony, Emannuel, Stella?
Anthony is gone, but not to eternity as you
He is driven by the vast chasm of time
And we know not his ware-about, but
We hope one day he drops from the blue.

Gloria,
Do you still remember loveth?
I heard she was pregnant for Sule.
Emannuel is in College aspiring to become one of them
Bloody politicians and liars.
Stella is in the States but she comes often
And she is still jealous of you.

Gloria,
Time is no longer a toddler
I don't know if death has clock
But I miss you everyday even though I see your shadows
I am not yet accustomed to living without you,
I wonder if I would ever be.

Gloria,
I know you would want me happy,
I saw the anguish on your face from every stroke
And bends of lines travelling down your face
So I have found this new pack you would love
And they are amazing.

Gloria,
Edima is African but she looks Korean.
Enobong is a wonderful friend, she challenges a lot
She loves adventures, she's just like you.
I had a crush on the previous, and loved the later
But she is not yet ready for love.

Gloria,
There is also Mirac. He is a wonderful friend.
He loves women a lot just like Anthony.
Victor is an annoying character but special in a way
He is not just good at keeping secrets.

Gloria,
There is also Jack 'the trouble maker'
The one good at protecting his friends my evil twin.
There is Leo too jealous and authoritarian
I know you would say he is like me.

Gloria,
Things have changed while you only decay.
Yaradua had died,
Goodluck Jonathan failed, Buhari is now the president.
There was fuel subsidy
I don't know if you read papers in hell
But Udom has succeeded  Akpabio as  Governor.
Anyway, I had  no time lately for politics
I had only written a lot of sad songs on minor chords...

BY GOLD MEMBERS

Broken lines, faded ink, tattered sheets
Barren words, blank verses, horrific deceits
Imperfect judgements, in-concrete assertions
Wanton perception, myopic visions
Shut to stardom with guile coins
Like dwarfs carried by giants on  the loins.

It bores deep into my heart that here where equality should be distributed
Breaks comrades into class and have poetic unity polluted.
Thou saucy fellow Allpoetry, thou bitch that mask that thou dost not beseem
Thou corrupt judge newline thy scheme
For thy talents and stars fade in oppression like weary fireflies
While the undue buys and feed you with their lies.

Golden whispers mumble from my inner-mind
And happy vocals strain my human chords with eloquence kind
Dancing sprightly like ocean waves in jocund glee
Trying to force their wisdom into the hungry minds they can see.
But lack-lustre fire shut their windows
And they fume in my head in suffocation like throats in the gallows.

Newline your scheme 'Beta Male'
Fire this sprouting germ, forsake fairytale.
Allpoetery, forsake this discriminating garment
Pull this robe of corruption sergeant
For thy talents and stars fade in oppression like weary fireflies
While the undue buys and feed you with their lies.

WE ARE FAMILY

We are family unbound by blood
We met in the cross-road.
We met on the battlefield fighting against life
And in the gallows of the Hang-Man.

Sticks and stones only broke our bones
When the rod and staff of the Hang-Man descended heavily on us
And his club cracked our bones,
When our eyes and lashes oozed down oceans of salt
And our hearts tremble in holy remorse,
When our brethren denounce us and could not overlook our unrighteousness;
The righteousness no man is guilty of...

When parents blame and forgot their own growing up
And our flesh ope and gave up it liquids for too much torment,
When parents forsake and the Lord Most High still call 'hem ''sons''.
When strangers amaze us and change our condemned plights
And give us a second chance and speak to us life...

Then do we say 'we are family unbound by blood'
For we went through Hell's Pit together in corruption
Then resurrected uncorrupted.

THE 'OLD WORLD WAKE' WILL PERCH AGAIN

The 'old world wake' will perch again to feed

So while you bombard the world with selfies and trendy photos,
Remember there will be a time
when your social photos will age a decade without a change
For fear of age.

Surely, the scavengers will perch
To take the remains of pride and arrogance
stocked in the carcasses of
Everlasting rest which is vanity.

You wallow in the delightful pool of sweet sensation
In your greedy paradise
with a rich orchard ripe for harvest
budgeted for the far horizon
And you brag like Boaz 'I have plenty to eat and enough to feed the future'

You are a Goliath.
You are as stable as a castle
so you forsake alliance and break the walls you lean on
Because you are a strong man.

Remember the mountain has no root
but unshakeable by volcanic dynamites.
And you are just a well planned man travelling to a conceived but unseen future

The Vultures will perch again
When time and unforeseen circumstances shock you.

Let he who thinks he stand take heed lest he falls
We might yet be waiting for the fall of a mountain.

THE FALL OF WOMEN

They 'll offer you the privileges a wife should offer her husband,
They 'll serve in your cubicle day 'n' night,
And still come kneeling in plea even after
You spewed venom and drew the battle-line.


They offer their pride as a burnt offering to the gods
And sell wisdom for pearls and jewels.
They'd lost all their mothers ever fought for,
The great instructions and wasted security.
Now, they lift their chin up, and shoulders high in
shameless pride, mumbling senseless talks;
"It's the 21st century" they will say with additional rhymes.
Alas! the fall of 'womanhood'.


Where has that pride flown to?
I mean that fairy chastity men of old envied, and sought?
That honour the modern men are starved?
That the young men can no longer brag amongst their peer and say
"My Lady, I caught her pure and holy ".


I will fight for the men
Especially when we sit, gossip, laugh 'n' scorn that the man has fallen.
'The fall of man'? Hush...!
Man rose to his feet immediately after his fall.
Shameful though the fall you caused for man,
And the triumph he gained.
Give yourselves little more credit with honourable actions
Oh filthy generation!
Do you intend nurturing the future in worm infested wombs???
Or do you intend resurrecting Sodom and Gomorrah
And fashion them with beautiful names?
Indeed; offspring of corruption!


And yet with all the dirty sacrifices and time spent
When the alter calls for matrimonial devotion
He will have his head elsewhere
In search of the woman you were not
The woman you should have been
The expensive woman real men will give all their estates to live with
And you were just a ponytail, a doll...

PUBLIC ANTS

Public Ants,
You will see them occupying offices
With balls of watermelon underneath agbadas for belly
Protruded like a woman pregnant for nine months.
They drive in flashy cars with tinted glasses
Accompanied by fleets of convoys
And sleep they and their children on crispy mints
While the Plebs and their family pray God for at least
A meagre survival and breathe.

Public Ants,
They work like ants but feed like elephants
And throw luxurious parties coated with 'brews'
And expensive cognac and vodkas
While orphans look for crumbs to kill the day.

Public Ants,
They are the people's representatives representing themselves
Representing their families, representing their communities
While the broad society starve in darkness
Then they call for National Sanitation
While the national politics itself which needs cleansing
Remains dirty and stinking.

Public Ants,
They are you canvassing the Boulevards of the elite
In ceremonious chants
With trumpets and drums begging for money.
They call it "Political Campaign"
I call it 'Modernised Slavery'
Because slavery is when you wear t-shirts with faces of masquerades stamped;
(T-shirts? I think ribbons of slavery)
Selling your pride and 'right-to-have' in the market square
And used for missions of vendetta by your political overlords.

Public Ants,
They are you glued to motor-parks, nuisance!
Disturbing the peace of man and unwilling to work.
It is you blaming all your misfortunes on others
And cursing the stars day and night not seeking a way to change your plights.

Public Ants,
They are you given offices to toy with.
You glued to your beds and befriending procrastination
You embezzling the public's funds to enlarge your accounts
You adamant to change and fooled by your education.

ZOMBIES

See 'hem canvassing the 'Boulevards of Man'

In tattered robes and nude soles!
I see 'hem with horrible eyes; sons of Satan
With empty chests and without souls
Descending upon the innocence of man like an infestation of locust
With vampiric teeth and appetite designed for blood lust.

Look at 'hem Zombies in new tuxedos going to church
With empty chests without memory nor storage cards.
Une emberdéé they gait lackadaisical and in a lurch
Like Titanic ready to face embarrassment; bastards!
Look at 'hem adulterated by ambition,
Swearing prayers of holy matrimony and minds set on sophistication.

I see 'hem when I look into your eyes.
I see your true reflection crystal clear on the mirror;
I see the truth in all your lies.
I see a scrawny face marred by veins and terror.
I hear you when your pulse rise in discomfort
And you try to brawl reality for illusion in distort...

Look at 'hem Zombies, death's existence
Far dangerous than the atomic bomb of Hiroshima.
Look at 'hem in the stench of decadence,
They are my friends, my trusted allies and lover.
Look at 'hem in citadels and offices, the corrupt fighting corruption
They are your political and religious leaders blinded by their own tradition.

SLEEP SOLDIER

He came to me in the middle of the night
Without a gun nor an armour
But with lashes sagged like a baby's diaper loaded with urine.
And with the stretches of every muscle running corollary on his face
Like an Oak's root breaking the ground
One could tell the tears from those tiny eyes could drown a decade.

He is a soldier,
And one that has conquered death more than thrice in a lifetime.
The hero himself has cheated nature and gone scot-free
But he doesn't look like a mighty warrior deterred by love.

Oh that such hue of grace and nobility should on a man rest!
That he only knows how to love with all his heart
And that the poor loner is taken for granted for being true.
But such is life soldier, and life is such
You never love those that love you
And such carefree lust for obsession
Beget nothing but broken hearts.

I am not mad soldier
You are already battered by life to be mad at.
You are the brother I wish was mine,
The husband I wish to marry,
The father my unborn kids should pray for.
I love you and I'm not even mad that you can't return it,
For you are so piteous resting your head on my shoulder and drowning my heart with your tears.

What did you do to life soldier?
Soldier you deserve everything you want.
You are not cursed,
Maybe it's wrong timing
Or maybe we were meant for each.
Sleep soldier rest your head on my breast
For in this bosom is your comfort
In this sacred heart is your sanctuary
The very alter of worship you have forsaken.

Rest soldier! Leave the piano for a while
Those heavy tones can open the windows of heaven
And cause Noah's ark to wreck
Or run the world into anarchy.
Sleep soldier take a minute's retirement from war,
Stop fighting, the casualties do not worth the bravery,
Perhaps live to fight another day.
You told me "death is cowardice"
And I know 'life is bravery'.
Kiss me soldier, will you?
Just for tonight and tomorrow go to your futile war
Fighting against zeal and principles.
Oh, you will not?
You also have to fight against nobility.
You will also battle self esteem and 'overly principled'.

Soldier, strike the final note and give it a name
As you will according to your art
And let it echoes diffuse into the atmosphere
And then lay your head here on my breast
Or on my laps and I will run my nails down your spine
And soldier sleep a while and purge your sorrows.

THE DIRTY SACRIFICE

"Don't turn your face towards the door and your back on me.
Well if you do, after all we've been through
You will never get another chance to do it again;
But just know this,
You will never find someone like me."
She said to me.

My feet became as heavy as lead,
My eyes pale, my heart heavy.
But I left though,
I protected you from me, from the beast in me.

Today I rue every mistakes,
For there are wrongs I should have done right,
I see the world through troubled eyes.
I have this yearn for righteousness
A burning desire for justice
But I often end up doing what I do not love and I can't resist it.
It is the beast in me.
But life's a bitch
And we are the dick strolling her stinky cunt.
We are our own misfortunes,
Our own ills or good.
We chose to be man or the beast in us.

I will only give you the word I swallowed then today.
"I do not deserve you.
Because I have fallen in love with what is wrong
And in this disease I will die.
I would have died many years ago,
I will not rue dying again;
Again? Then I will have to die twice
For this my life means death.

But you? Please stay alive.
Don't get involved in my condemnation
Don't get infected by my virus... "

A LONG LETTER TO THE COVEN

See coven, I think I gotta go
And please don't mind my accent and diction
It's the way I talk honestly;
I didn't write this to grace the New York Times
It's only a letter with shitty meters perfect to the ears.

I will be star-trekking to Deneva rather, not Houston
There's this Apocalypse advanced chemistry can handle
Any-ways, those chemistries are personal.

I'm sorry Stella, I know I should have treated you better
I guess I don't know how to define better
than that I never took advantage of the fact you loved me.
You see Stel, I love you a lot but not in the way you think.
I can do 'ninetys' down Downing Street just for you.
We had always been together in life with the same past
And in the dearth we've been strong too together.
You see Stel, Gloria is gone and so is Nolan
So is everyone we ever knew and we have to move on.

Remember that spider that bit me in New Orleans?
That together with your love had changed my life
And Stel, I know you love me
But as King once said "love is personal".
I don't need to return it exactly the way you want it
and you don't have to stop loving me no matter what I do.
Same was between Drey and Joy you know that was his own business
And as you can see you are not in this love mess alone.
As for Rebecca, you don't need to worry about her except I might decide to change my name to Isaac.
She's just a pretty girl I will say 'perfect' in every way
She isn't my doll,
I'm just a little bit hyped with 'pussys and diddles'
so you don't have to be jealous.
Also Stel, I know that shit you did
But it wasn't pretty nice to hack my account to spy my messages.

King I'm sorry if I never cared, but that truth is a lie.
I'm not just a talking type and you've been great
Especially for Stella and I'm grateful that should be my duty.
But I am a man with a little bit of a heightened emotion
And everything is so different now, I hope you understand.
Well pal, I'm sick and you know I cannot be
I'm only sick of that grudge you bear me,
But to be honest it wasn't me who stopped her from helping you.
Believe that or not, I don't give a fuck about what people think of me.

Hey Cul!
I know you've been shredded.
So were you fated or perhaps you've made too many mistakes.
Anyway how are you?
I saw you at Plaza with your new dog buying fake things
And that kinda shopping nauseates me,
Because I would have given you better.
I muse over it though because today I will not drink dregs.
You were just too impatient and lose so you sold ya Ass to Tony
And at that time I was going through changes you never understood.
What's that shit I heard you relocated
And that you relocated all because of me?
Well suits you garbage, block me for all I care
I don't keep up with pretty shitty things that stinks
Especially when they are beneath my class
For you are just an example of how crappy women can be.

As for Victor, the Niggie is improving.
I understand we all have dirty pasts we try hard to hide
and talk about other people's because we know it.
That dude is a darling not a monster
Only someone that gets whatever he wants by whatever means not minding the cost.
We all know such achievements comes shitty and often leave us traitors.
But to err is man and forgiveness is of the Lord.
Nowadays we are like stocked together in chess and in Fifa
And I always win though
Not dissing you buddy...

Leo, Mirac, Nathan and Jack? We are life partners
We all certainly will remain friends forever.

See you in the future coven.
I know some of you will die
Death is inevitable.
Others will end up miserable.
Only few will succeed.
It is left for you to choose where you stand.