Talking to myself through poetry
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Ears in heaven cherishes a singer
Choir’s musicals she gives a soul
She is a wish heaven loves to make.
I heard she dresses like a striper
Displaying her hot cameltoe
Making tonnes to gather at lake.
Her dress sense makes the sun hotter
In black and blue, she lost a role
Suspended from church for burnt bakes.
Yet in her flaws she is better
Than the people I used to know
Going around as a preacher.
Down the streets, I see fierce men in blacks Throwing punches and spraying bullets back On both the dead guilty and the innocent From such…
Are we now familiar strangers? Our silence seem to write love letters On empty space through the louvers; I miss you, let’s talk it over……
Thank you God, as I clock thirty three years old today… Dear readers and fellow bloggers, join me celebrate my new age, put me in…
We are celebrating sixty, Yet there are no basic amenities, Nigeria!! In her house is where I grew up, Everyday she worsens, I am fed…
Irony 🤣, and she’s a saint of her own soul better than the pretenders
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Exactly. Guess why they say, don’t judge a book by its cover.
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Exactly
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Happy birthday to you ma
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thanks Vinz, i appreciate
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Magnificent
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Thank you
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“Suspended from church for burnt bakes”. 🤣Meanwhile, most of them get their bakes burnt now and then. But who will judge their bakes?
👌
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God only should have. For if stones were to be thrown by saints onto sinners no man would ever cast one.
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