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Monthly Archives: May 2017

Prologue: Rebirth

There is no one born ugly
Pick up a bronzer and brush,
And kindly remodel yourself.

If your hairs, are dark and long,
Cut it, as short as you want,
Give yourself, a desired rebirth.

Dye black blonde and blonde to dark,
We are all humans made for lack,
Imperfection is a gene we all share.

Attach some treads or get it wigged
If the hairs, are so low and bald,
Beauty is all about reflection.

Shave and redraw, lashes and lids,
These are parts of sweet seduction
Created by God, for our optimization.

Gloss has its own reflections and luck
Use a lipstick; it attracts a poke,
At rebirth, we all can emulate God.

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Prologue: Pages

I have a book, I read and look
On each page is same pretty face
Painted with lost traces of grace.

Life and death; recommend this book,
On each page is a face of a mother,
Looking emotional, sad and bitter.

On each page, is a surprising spitfire,
Toothless fly, turned into a barracuda;
Attacking all her feirced rival.

On each page, her lips does hiss
To failed promises and dried kiss;
Withered are roses around her hips.

On each page, is also a pot of desire
A new hope, pen and also an eraser
To wipe and rewrite the next chapter.

Recession

This recession
Has eaten
Deep into me.

Garri I soak
Is expensive;
Now as gold.

Salary earners
Live from
Hand to mouth.

So many
Hands
Jobless and fired.

Happy indepedence
Is really
An irony to hold.

These
Cash challenges,
Never seizes to come.

Poverty
An easy reach
Recession is a bitch.

Prologue: Black Apple

You are a black apple
On a familiar ground;
Renewing all the time.

Your charming sight,
As a bright cloak of light
Strengthens my cord, by God.

You are a ripe fruit on a tree,
The black apple of my eyes
That falls not far from me.

You drag me closer to hay,
Your nutrients day by day, 
Surely keeps the doctors away.

You are boneless like a fillet,
A pretty sweet forbidden fruit,
I shall eat; over and over again.

Prologue: Watching her bath

Watching her bath,
I remembered
The innocence,
Of our childhood.

We used to create
Games by hand
With no pretense
Fun was all we had.

Watching her bath
I read her mind,
Wipping out stains
From curves and shape.

On my memory slate,
She is one of a kind,
From unique strains;
A unicorn to gape.

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