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Bitter kolanuts

The entrance to success was by long distance travels

Hunger, tasty tongues of no sweet but bitter kola nuts

Traditionalists knows its value, hence may crack jokes with it.

Its’ very first bite gave my chin a frown, and I did regret it

But it became a combination of bitter and sweet swallowed spite

My taste buds were numb but agile than it could fight.

The bitter kolanut creates the magic that neutralises 

Beneath her name to the top toxicity in the door-post of years

But as I chewed, I felt less of hard times….

I tasted the cements, and saw the walls

Walls, built in the past by little cart from bitter kolanuts…

And the structure of the present time got muscles from its stress

Which carried my bonnets to the farthest corner in towns

From bicycles to cars from caps to a crown not meant for clowns

Suddenly I began to shout and sing in libraries and quite terrains.

God bless those who put bricks in my walls

That fixed the bitterness from the kolanuts

And made me utilize materials for the patterns,

Of challenges I met, and that which hardened my zeal

Life is rich in challenges but like a bitter kola, from low or up the heel

Challenges are not sweet but it neutralizes a stagnant mindset.

The brimstone Prophesy

Ring me a bell,

Alarming, heats and sulfur of hell

Alarming from people that fell

Alarming bad storylines for a tell.

Shadows over the sun of a Nation

Raping daughters and killing sons of vision

Moving slowly and faster on same motion

Accelerating top gear on roads of unequal levels

… And tapping breaks for peace that travels.

Are we born to be doom in hardship wells

There goes a Prophet ringing his bell.

On same streets abandoned my gods…

A dying tomorrow, he sings and tell

Not solely of doom but he keeps ringing a bell

For ears to hear and trees to bear fruits

Not fruits of same polymers and isotopes

Nor to bring hope whereas they are but brimstones

Times are harder than a tribal damnation

Beware people of same denomination.

Yet enslave

Attimes we admire pretty people 

And carve a square in a cycle hole

When all that we have is undreamt 

And the tunnels, we pass has no end

But imaginations free to lend and blend

We speak like drunks that shouldn’t be heard…

But still walk into tunnels, for there are lots to be felt…

The rocky stones just keeps falling in a shadow light

If and only if, is the word we lit…

But we fail because we piloted the jet

Air we  flew, till we became reject

Broken but our hopes can’t be an eject

We know we failed, but we fail not to quit 

Because of an unrealistic foolish insight

Bigger than a planet, yet its constantly pictured

As a big sun in our swampy tiny pocket.

Round and around imposibilities, we run fast…

And find excuses beside reality coasts

Marathon for freedom yet we are free but slaves…

Chasing after chains of yesterdays…

Throwing long paces into enclosures, 

When all there is in life, is but a free slave

Hey!! atleast we think, and our brains…

… Are not caged or enslaved in caves.

Suffering in the land

  1. Hey! Let’s be frank
  2. We overlabor ourselves
  3. To mould white clay to iron calabashes
  4. We bake hard bread in icy hardships
  5. It runs in the family both rich or broke,
  6. As long as you’re a green and white folk
  7. Trending on same broken bridges and roads
  8. Patched cultures and black isotopes
  9. Abiding by same policy we create to create greed in us
  10. Let’s be frank, we burnt the bread
  11. So sing me a sonnet of the green and white songs
  12. That writes with white ink and erase itself
  13. For a tree dries each time a child dies
  14. And its blood is black and in the cloud it cries.

    Dive and shakes

    1. There’s a feeling inexpressible by even a writer
    2. Like Peter Pan, it refuse to go older
    3. All round clock, irrespective of the weather, 
    4. I don’t care, report me to my mother.
    5. Like a moon to a werewolf, fresh out of the shower
    6. Excited, I jump out of my skin, into my bed like a diver
    7. Then my shaking limb limps into grabbing the cover
    8. Almost immediately, hidden I become underneath the wrapper
    9. Within my cold curdled blood, my sorrows become lighter,
    10. Cuddling the pillows, and kicking foot to another
    11. I laugh at the dive and shakes which never grow older
    12. An excitment I had right from when I was younger.

      The Bus

      1. I sat in an eighteen seater bus        
      2. At the right, close to sack and box
      3. On my gaze, staring at the skulls
      4. Isn’t life beautiful, we head as we erase
      5. All places and roads we pass
      6. Looking straight ahead
      7. Underming how life may seem so hard.

        City and nature

        1. Before the Sun was energized,
        2. I drove around the city with nothing in mind to find…
        3. But stumbled upon a beauty of a kind
        4. An untold story could tell the breeze was cold.
        5. Tranquil, not even a wig or wing did flap
        6. Then I pulled over by an empty bus-stop
        7. With the radio singing sweet good morning song
        8. Could it be the sky does breath hence it sleep…
        9. Again and again, my front and back I watched
        10. Wasn’t scared of the lonely road,
        11. But that the city would soon be awake
        12. I saw yonder in a flip through a quite lake…
        13. Wondering how unhealthy we treat nature
        14. Our house, yet we perk it like the dirty vulture
        15. O my love, save the world, its’ sight and sound is super mature…
        16. From a distances, my roof the sky could touch
        17. Mixture of white and multiply colors of hoars
        18. Seasonally it gets cloudy when it morns
        19. So I wonder if the raindrops are tears 
        20. From the pains the city inflicts…
        21. I blinked, then the trees were like its walls
        22. Funny if today the beautiful city don’t wake
        23. Every morning a new fresh air it bakes..
        24. But the city has to wake to get a chunk of its cake.


        I’m a patient pawn

        Who has slayed off and on

        Strived, spanked, pushed against all odds

        Boiled in hell, and roasted by volcanoes 

        So when I’m faced with an option to stall

        I stay in a direction opossite my tail

        Staring at the giant to be written in my tales

        Ready for whatever, good bad and worse

        One more move, and I shall be in crown

        Fifteen pieces I slayed, shows I own the town

        So I don’t mind if they call me a clown

        I stay muted to the Devil devices

        Who is just a lone king, on a breaking ice

        Temptation don’t work, bring a brothel

        I’ll wait for the bell, I’ve been through hell

        Spew till you tired, I shall make a check

        I’ve got my bishop building me on mark

        Like the snipers, I’ll wait for my turn….

        And check till it’s checkmate, I’m a patient pawn.


        ​She’s a wild cat from the hottest tropical part

        But its heat can’t compare to this African heart.

        On the cain-chair beside the basketball court

        Legs crossed, rays twinkling from her shipshape hat.
        Brown skinny cat, she wore a black top to match

        Her oily long shinny hairs, rolled up like a ratch

        Smiling “I’m your type but not everybodys match”

        Classic from the past to the future slow or in flash.

        When she smiles, the guys tongues come out

        Not a baller but for her you will take a shot

        She’s the type, you pump the brake on sight

        In the dark she lights a dreamers heart.

        Smooth… her laps has no lapse, 

        But could make the dreamer lost in relapse

        She had this continence, ‘come hold me in your arms’…

        But she’s a spitfire, go if you can roll the dice.
        Arrogance goes with it, like the rim and tire

        In a dreamland, she’s an overachieved desire

        Clapped and smiled often but she’s a spitfire

        The keys to her heart is not destroyable by fire.

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