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Drunk poet Jul 2016
Under that palm tree,
We once laughed at lazy farmers,
Across that path we were made novice lovers,
Then you smiled,
You knew, I knew what you meant,
Right there we once danced in the rain,
Smile days after days,
Beneath that Carriage we first made love,
But its over, and forgotten,
Like a stone at the bottom of the ocean,
We left dager in our biased heart,
Sort of two stones thrown I different directions,
Everyday owing each moment, that I have vividly imagine,
Pictured place perfectly in my heart,
My old diary of great mystery,
Mysteries we fathomed,
Seemed to be fantasy and shield phantom,
You reveled to me,
My old brown dairy you gave me,
All pages up here In my memory,
With a golden ribbon
Drunk poet May 2018
I've been gifted with the curse to wield a black skin
In a society where dreams metamorphosize to nightmares
Boarding a taxi of unfulfilled dreams
Dancing around the edge of a razer blade

Misery and pain kiss my dreams
As they all queue to take turns on me like humans on ATM
Hope disappears like **** in a fan firm
And my head is stuck between the pace of my legs

Achievementphobia strikes like cholera
And anguish jets on souls like ebola
With millions of dead dreams and thousands hospitalized

Today I will pack my Shattered dream
And move on with the littlest crumbs of hope in me
To journey through valleys, mountains and ocean
That I may find a place for my dream somewhere
.
©️Drunk_poet
Society
Drunk poet Aug 2018
You are back?
Again with your perfumed lies like roses
To tell me you are wrong and probably sorry
To lick up my tears with your apologies
.
You are back
To pour me lies from the same lips I love to kiss
Again to pin me to the wall with your lovely punchlines
Reminding me of the world awaiting us
.
But today I will sit on this cushion
And watch you use your magic on me
I will wait for your lips to stop pouring out the lies
Then I will say "get out! "
.
      To her who conquered my heart with beautiful lies
.
Drunkpoet {the poet that stinks with lines}
Drunk poet May 2017
I heard the sound gongs
That echoes vehemently through
The dept of my solemn soul
The call, of which I must answer
O crier! Bearer of the voice of the ancient ones
Calling unto me, to come have a seat amongst the ancestors.
.
I fear that I might be gone
Too soon to give thee my " adieu "
I fear that you might be the hands to wash me in my death
I fear I might be gone!
Far gone to share in your "kola" and "palm wine"
Oh! I fear that My lands,barns,wives and Concubines would fall in your hands after my Exit from this naked world.
.
But I would smile
When my soul gazes down
Seeing myself in the round circles
Of your unending presence
I would dance to sweet dirges from you lips
I would smile when your heads shake for me
My cheeks enchanted with laughter in the tale
Of your ignorance.
.
For now, I decide your fate
Of your dreams I now have a tale
Your voices,I a carrier
The ancestors seat now my dwelling.


Balogun David Tolulope
(Drunk poet)
Drunk poet Sep 2017
Only through memories
.
It was not far before long
When our stares would meet all night long
Your little smiles I would see, when my lips
Sing you a beautiful song
.
It was really brief before far
Together at the right side of our sofa
Sharing dreams of being called Mama and Papa
And our love be of this dream's ladder
.
It was not far before now
When our love began to go down
Like a stormy rain that receives a peaceful
Calm
It went puff like the smoke of tobacco
From the tender balm of our palm
.
It won't be soon after a long while
When salty rain from my eyes will follow this Last line
I see you only through memories, as days begot day
And it comes and go like menstrual pain
.
Balogun David Tolulope
(Drunk poet)
©️2017
Drunk poet Jul 2016
The low oriented ones,
The visionless bones,
Ignorant to every innovation of life,
They are ordinary with foolish as a wife.

They with no self esteem,
Their future ugly and dim,
They always to be there,
But no one cares!

Tear drops full up basket,
They wish to be high like rocket,
they  lost hope and liberty,
They can't face reality!
Drunk poet Jan 2018
I've always wanted to design dreams
Not to chase them like kids after butterflies in the fields
But to decorate and further furnish them.
.
I've always wanted to mend dreams
Not to be the one with the broken pieces of dreams
But to repair them with the kisses of hope.
.
But just like a  chameleon nature changed her wardrobe
And like the space in-between an anvil and an hammer,
I lost my needle and tools to time.
.
Now, when we the sun comes up
I host troubles
Even when the sun goes down
I host double of the prior troubles
Only I hope, it won't be forever!
.
Balogun David Tolulope
©️drunkpoet
Drunk poet Jul 2016
My country Nigeria,
Am a citizen by birth,
That’s the Criteria,
A blessed nation on the earth,
Driven by atrocities as bacteria,
A place I was proud to call home,
Am a negros and Nigeria is my home,
But she’s going down the pan,
Causing mortality in my clan.
Due to manifestos,
We commercialize with hoes.

It started with our independence,
We thought love would take
Prominence,
But rather war, corruption and coups,
And Tribalism feed on us


My plea goes to the world power,
Our corruption is taller than any tower,
Our leader convince us that colonization
Was necessary,
Seems we we have cross that boundary.

Please colonize us again,
Because decolonization has no gain,
Remove all these leaders,
The made us cry aloud to mothers.

I admit we weren’t ripe,
We just wanted to be free,
Like the smoke from papa’s pipe,
Please colonize us! At least
Of these situations we shall be free!
Drunk poet Jul 2016
Oh! Jack my good lad,
Know the good and the bad!
Remember the tale I told you,
When you meet the tale in you,
Remember HE!
Don't forget me!
When HE said "let there be"
He that created things,
He made me raise you in peace,
Even when things come to the worst!
But through his words "there was"
The egg that comes from your mouth!
Don't be afraid to spit it out!
God is the word,
And HE is your world!
Drunk poet Dec 2017
I know you wield the beauty of flowers
And sweet scent of roses you emit.
Yes, you dwell in a city called love,
In a region we call emotion
... But please tell me, who are you?

Your eulogy has no end,
And your praises know no limits.
For your "ode" is someone else's "elegy".
Sometimes you bring tears, sometimes smiles
... But please tell me, who are you?

When will you visit me?
At my dusk or my dawn?
Today or tomorrow?
No need be, I beg of you
For my eyes are unworthy to behold your beauty
... But please tell me, who are you?

She replied me and said
I  wield the Beauty of  black roses
The madness in hearts of men I am
I  wear prettiness, but a monster I am!
And tears is my signature!
For I am pain!
.
Balogun Tolulope David
(Drunk poet) 2017
Drunk poet Jul 2016
Queen sheba  will rise,
Seeking you with pearls and Diamond,
Just like the wisdom  of Solomon.
Your beauty is the greatest phenomenon
That have ever cross the Horizons.

The beauty that blind can see,
This beauty can set free,
It makes that passer-by(sun) to
Stop.
It makes the fastest runner cease (wind)

Kings of the world lust after it,
The Princes want to have it,
The Queens of the world jealous it,
The princess of the world  envy it.

Beauty that boycott the law of gravity {old age}
The antidote for wrinkles,
An island for dimples.
Drunk poet Oct 2018
You know what they say
"one good turn deserves another"
I think they meant to say
"one good love deserves another"
I hope you see this someday
Drunk poet Aug 2017
My people,
Deprive not your eyes of it's sight
That we see the flames, dancing on our huts
Like a stripper in a club night
For here we are, bleeding without a cut
.
Listen people!
That we may ear the roaring laugter
Of the big boys at our own handed damnation
For the shame is sweet and our tongue compromised
We are pathetic, yet, we call ourselves a nation
.
My people,
The seed we planted, has grown branches
The calamity we dreamt of has stopped by, to say "hello"
Corruption and his brothers seem to have come to stay
The big ones laugter grows more as we fight this flame with fire
.
Sons of a shoemaker,
Walking barefooted in the woods
May Heavens come to our rescue,
For our shadows has come to hunt us
And our herbalist has no clue how to make the  concoction to heal our insanity.
.
Balogun David Tolulope
{drunk poet}
©️2017
Drunk poet Aug 2018
I don't know, I... I can't describe it
I just wish your feet didn't move you to my door
I wish the ***** didn't burn so hot in me after
that little big fight
Now my lips keep ******* my tears
on words with "had I know"
.
I wish the liquor store had closed before that hour
Or better still, the bottle disposed
But it happened so fast that I lost my myself to another self
My anger met jealousy, like fire unionised with gasoline
I don't know, I... I... I can't des... Or maybe do I understand now
.
You were the page in my diary I tore
And the coin that slip of my pocket in the rain
Well, I'll wipe my tears away
For after just one gunshot I will be there to give you my apologies
          (BANG!)
.
{the poet that stinks with lines⚟}
Drunk poet Oct 2016
Pour us more Palm-wine!
Said the groom as he stood
Mama sodiq, you sell the best Palm-wine in this village
Palm-wine! Palm-wine!!
Poured into the cup of my consciousness,
As I move through today, I call on you to give me
Thy guide as I dive into the storm of weaving waters
Ever since that day, blessed by the gods
When I met my Ajoke, at the òdún ìgęsún night
Adorn greatly with sweaty shaking breeded waist
Of the Omidans of our village
Bimpe! Kunle's resting stool,
The little mouse àlonpé from the village of Alarape,
With the help of mope, yours is not the matter of kowope.
Your intellect surpasses that of wole the head of the palace gaurds
Moving from one palm tree to another
Just to get my message to ajoke
Bode ògbójú ode
A rare friend whose great guns of words
Fired down enemies standing as storms
I pray you find true love with Dupe
Iya olu, thy words are divine
The milk of experience through which my suckle lips
Drill out knowledge from thy breast helping me
To solve the puzzles of life
I pray you  live long to see thy grand child......
Drunk poet Oct 2016
Somewhere between lost and totally lost,
There we became unconscious,
Indeed! Really lost,
Daunt like an evening shadow,
Then my breathe seemed shallow,

But, we poor men in our poverty,
Carried away with ample manifestos,
I objected to that saying,
Very naive like a girl in her puberty,
Who know only how to wash her toes,
On the contrary, she is dying,
So I strife,
Striving in our emaciated life.

Then just like a cow
Led to the abbatotior,
They ruin every sector,
But we were fools in mere ecstacy,
They made us believe colonization was necessary,
But it was a foul,
Now we beg leniency,
Unlike spendthrift of our currency.

Now we cry for antidote,(change)
Disregarding That oat,
But through what doors?
The west?
Perhaps East?
Probably the south?
Or from the graced North?
What doors?

That which no writing could criticized,
No satirical work could correct,
Indeed! The best materialized,
But speaking of the change, what earth?

But pray a calmed storm,
Even after our hypocrisy,
And false democracy,
When will the truth come,
All is well, the mother had told,
But I guess sometimes the truth is best left untold.
Drunk poet Oct 2016
Like a flight of thousands,
Innocents in their innocence,
Through seas and lands,
By our our hands we made them
Pilot.
Conscious and sane,
Whey flew us with hidden plot,
The sky speak to us.

The whom we trust,
Called to serve us,
They made us carry their cross.

Like fortress with self-destruct,
And when it goes, they never go down
With it,
They, they are corrupt!
Channel golds and pearls beneath.

They sabotage our economy,
Made us peasant,
They sabotage you and me!
They want every pleasant.

Unfaithful masters,
I charge of faithful servants,
With their bad characters.

Looting things for their unborn generations,
The have no heart,
Booting our generations,
But will they say after earth?

Father!
My daughter called,
When shall be free?
When will we eat on the
Dining table
Drunk poet Dec 2016
Shadow
The mythic spirit
Lurking behind every unconscious soul
The dangerous confussionist
Giving various attributes to geniue personalities
.
Shadow
The numinous spirit
Darkest shape of every man's glory
Handler of the two edged sword
That pierces into the light
.
Shadow
The enigmatic spirit
Collector of the mischievous souls
Greatest villain and lover of light
Killer of dreams and visions
.
Shadow
The arcane spirit
The faceless being
Prince of deception
That gives us nothing but a vague life
.
Shadow
The cryptic spirit
Clothed with darkness
Brought to light by its brightness
Master of one's darkest self
The beast in all spirits
.
Shadow
my muted companion
My secret tormentor
My faceless self
Drunk poet Jul 2016
A poem is like a naked person,
That needs redemption and mercy,
And every expression to impress,
And comitted like a press.

Every expressions are specious,
And rhythms  ostentatious,
Poets with their dulcet lips,
Giving vulnerability to your hips

Poets use one's Achilles' heels as
Leverage,
With many diction and language,
Their words can't be insipid,
So they play the cupid.

Poets seems complaisant,
Tantalizing those counts,
She said poet are killers,
But they claim to be healers.

Poets take their hyperborical expression
To the peak,
Making all your bones weak,
She said Poets are liars,
Oh! Poets are murderers.

Poets will make your soul tremulous,
With those words, sounding mellifluous,
Poets take you to the imaginary world,
Perhaps with just a word.

But Poets change their environment,
Releasing the truth from its confinement,
Chastising the revolts and destroyers
With mere pen and paper.

But she wouldn't agree,
Not to any degree,
She said Poets are liars,
Oh! Poets are murderers!
Drunk poet Jul 2017
Sister Bisi,
A serial fashion killer
From what I remember, her beauty was men's dealer.
Her ostrich legs would move her,
Like a car without adequate fuel
See, I doubt it if sister Bisi could really "****"
.
Sister Bisi,
Her smiles could make you render
Her your head,
Of course, before placing her head-drink,
You would be dead!
Calling her "Beautiful" was an understament
.
Sister Bisi,
I once believed she was a witch
Her eye lashes elongated like  palm fronds
She could barely swallow "amala"
But she could linger on "noodles" and
"suya"
Her lips would dance like flowers in the air
When she says "like seriously"
.
Sister Bisi,
I admire you, till yesterday,
When a circle of unending presence beheld you
Besides the "gutter" you could barely cross
Your twins on the chest shaved away!
Like demolition of  our public library.
"she's been used" I heard from murmurs, I was keen
Only to know that you were a "slay queen"
.  
Balogun Tolulopez Ayodeji David(drunk poet)
©️2017
ANA Aaua chapter
African story
Drunk poet Sep 2017
I have been caught by her beautiful beauty
Like a fish in the neck
My heart becomes a mortar and her eyes a pistol whenever I gaze around her neck.
Sister Mary's necklace
Whose ornament of trinket captured my timid eyes
Causing my lips to make soundless sighs of grasping twice
Whose ornament rolls in a valley subdued between two mountains
Or perhaps towers of grace
.
Forgive me father, if my description of her turn you on
Maybe I read too much of the songs of Solomon
Only heavens knows the treasures that lies in the
secret Place beneath her habit
Her  smiles I love, plus her caring habit
Her gentle gaze caused my mind to race
Into an unknown land I can not trace
Causing hands movement into the darkest of places
Even in the presence of solemn praises
.
Oh sister Mary, how can I describe your tender embrace?
Warmer than a cathigan made of fur
But too rapid like the space in between my pace
Your celestical dove on the chest I first admired,
When I was four and all I remember was that
My heart became dim and somehow blur
It caused my the meshing of our souls in circles
.
Sister Mary
Who makes me scream "holy Mary mother of our savior"
For the thought of her savors my tender sins
For her body I see, even I my dreams
For  here I am at the confessional,
Forgive me father  for it has been a day since my last confession
Yet, it feels like a century
.
Balogun David Tolulope+ anonymously anonymous
{drunk poet}
©️2017
Drunk poet Dec 2016
The man died
His ever breathless soul put to rest
His woes anguish striving existence
The crowd came to say him sorry
.
Who is he?
A pitiable embodiment of aspiration
Thirst unending for fulfillment
A Thought that rolled mountains
But shifted not mere stones
.
Who is to blame?
His gluttonic desire?
Or his unending attractions?
The over zealous mind never left him
Like a snail that leaves not its' shell
As he chased the treasures hidden in the shadows
.
Where then lies his hope?
The cruelty of the ropes tied his fate
He was hunted by the shadows
Bade farewell to the grave where he
Would find comfort
I gaze down from six feet above him and screamed
What a pathetic man !
For #glamour
Drunk poet Jul 2017
My feet move me
Like a sailor determining the
Fate of a ship
Kilometers I move, away from my hut's threshold
Where I battle in thoughtless thoghts
.
Solid thoughts,
Roaming on my mind like hawkers
On the streets of Lagos
I felt the tears of the cloud
Drenching me with knowledge on
My only piece of "ankara"
.
Where would fate lead me?
For I fear it's forces may ******* into
The forest of unfulfilled dreams
Will I end up like my fathers?
Who had many wives with shorten lives
Ha! I need the compass of life
.
Let me excrete myself on the platform
Of golds not of the gods
Not reality in an invidious thoughts
Yes, I decide my fate!
Not the gods, reality or some stupid thoughts!
.
Balogun David Tolulope
Drunk poet*©️2017
IG=acedadrunk_poet
Drunk poet Jul 2016
Alluring in nature,
Appalling in culture,
Vast in knowledge,
What a rare privilege!

Rapid in growth,
Seem to have kept to that oath,
An island for cultures,
And food for vultures.

The leg that walk us home
Forgot our treasures in Rome,
The second chance that
Begins at the third,
Rose again from mud.

A place away not beyond,
Proud to be called home,
Now there seems to be a lot to go,
My country,
So we cross the boundary.
Drunk poet Dec 2017
STUBBORN MEMORIES
.
I keep fading into the memories of yesterday
I keep feeling the movements of your shadow in my heart
As I sit here on the bench of hope that they will fade away
But am broken, just at the thought of you
.
I keep trumping through the forest of memories
I keep staring at the empty chair in my heart
As I sit here watching your images play on my mind
Like kids on rollercoasters
But am falling far beyond time
.
Stubborn memories that conquer the arms of time
Grow in me like tumor.
You were the poetic lines I could not complete
You were dream I woke up from too soon
And the priceless pearl I could not keep
.
Drunk poet
Drunk poet Mar 2017
There was a man blown in by the east wind
He was never late for a feast
His liquor always at his heartbeat
.
He walks clumsily like the wizard of the West
His clothes filled with holes in their
Fleets
He sought comfort but hunger precedes him
His hope is charmed with the light Of the sun
He dreamt  of chasing the sky into the ocean
He has no friend to lean on
Alas! He would put a smile on
.
But his soul chirps like a cricket
A complete waste his life has been like water in a basket!
So he died! Who is to be blame?
Oh! It's such a shame!
Only that his laziness was too phat and lame
Drunk poet Sep 2016
I lost myself in time
My eyes became red when
lost to tears
My ink became blood
Living my life in the margin
With many metaphor to prove it
I got my head in the clouds
May the sun shine tomorrow be
The solid proof
May the fresh air from oceans
Establish it
I could see my reflection in the sky
Not to let my doubts go,
May these scars bless me
After all these might be to test me
Drunk poet Sep 2016
If today be my last
Day on this earth,
The day to give up my soul!
Should I spend it in tears?
Or spend it in joy?

Should I spend my last hours Indoor?
Or spend it among folks?
Should I be in despair?
Or my heart be filled with joy?
Should I  dance and celebrate
The Day I would join the ascenstors?
Tell me friend! How should I spend it?
Drunk poet Jul 2016
With your charming smile on,
In that gown hung there,
Lovemonger’s work done,
hatred made mere.

That day, full of beauty,
Ceremony and ovations,
For your pride and dignity,
And I was full with emotion.

You enamored with me,
And I with thee,
Head over heels,
You understood how I felt and feels.

With ecstasy dark cloud,
Beneath the pouring rain,
And farewell to be made a woman,
Without duress or pain,
Forever my woman and I thy man
Drunk poet Jul 2016
The rhythm of the burnt pages,
Of the diary of life with no wages,
Pages of old memories,
That you may consider as stories,
Which sometimes ooz tears out of me
That which I wish u knew.

The rhythm of the smokes of the diary,
That which makes me weary,
Putting in you in a dilemma,
A sophisticated dilemma.

Pages that makes me smile suddenly,
But in the aftermath, resulting in a cry,
Then I sit solely,
My tears has not dry,

I might have cried ruining my make up,
Pages in that needs to be burnt,
That which I write every morning when I wake up,
Memories I can't erase, pages that will remain burnt.
Drunk poet Jul 2016
The messenger since ages,
He hunted the path of our forefathers,
His call echoes through ages,
Never mind the tears of mothers!
He lies between light and darkness,
Especially when we strive to see the brightness.

If he visits me, how should I entertain him?
Will you morn me?
After I give up my soul to please him,
Will smoke fill the air as dirge from
Your lips?
Will you bury me?
Or only if the vultures spare me?

To my beloved maiden,
Thy sight I wish not so see tears,
To your soul not see Fears,
But to thy garment be black,
Your thumbs hold tight to the candle?
To thy bed you should cuddle.
Drunk poet Jul 2016
The cheerleader,
Hearts goes to the highest bidder,
An encapsulation of beauty,
She has the license of beauty,
She elucidated my vague and indistinct dreams,
Her voice is mellifluous in my dreams.

Cheerleader is unaccustomed to mundane.
Her admiration full of gains,
Bloomleader is unprofane damsel,
She is immaculate even in tunnels.

Cheerleader is like an epiphany,
Enternity with her? Not still many,
The charm in her face us very potent,
My reasons are arrantly cogent,
Her presence chastise dolor,
Laughter with charismatic colour,
And as the emotion creeps on me,
Making me a sycophants to her knee,

The Cheerleader,
Her love is not a treacherous swine,
Her lips is exquisite than any wine,
Though is infatuation sound very lame,
My heart adores her with fame,
A pragmatic way to study her frangipani face,
I want to be the first in this race,

The cheerleader,
She with crystal teeth
And blue eye *****,
I see her climbing on walls,
Auspicious love without any wit,
I realize I was only in a dream.
Drunk poet Nov 2016
He sat with despair
In the round table of loneliness
Trying to appraise the face of sadness
His love for this world is lost!.
The solace in this Pacific space
With the company of the gracious maidens
Onus entwine his soul, of help be
Only the bartender not the DJ
The aural of this lies in the wine
Sorrow has visited through the back door.
Shots succeeded shots like an hungry glutton
Intoxicated with great lines of poetry
As every drop of the liquor reach his soul
I am the drunk poet
Drunk with poetry!
Drunk poet Jul 2016
The clouds were covered with darkness,
The thunder strikes hard with no kindness,
There comes a great lightning,
People said it was made so by God almighty,

It strikes hard like a renew sword,
I wish I could stop it with my with my words,
Fear encamped me on my bed made of muds,
I was a stick and couldn't move,

It sounds so awful like an empty drum,
It was horrible affecting my ear drum,
It rained like the the time of Noah,
We wish we won't hope for more.

I finally took my linen that is almost torn,
We became friends on the floor,
The I realize that is almost late,
That day was superb and great.
Drunk poet Feb 2018
Listen,
I wish to spill my thoughts on the papyrus of your heart
And to Crest my love on the skin of your emotions
I want you to be the dream I will never wake up from
And the only rain that will ever kiss my soil

Listen,
I wish to dive into the pool of your love
That I may be drown in your deepest emotions
I want you to crush me with the rock of your sympathy
And from your fountain of desires I wish to have a drink

Listen
I wish to have my heart beating in your hands
That my fingertips and ink will poetically publish our love story
And have men praise me for my heroic love stupidity

Listen,
Just like Romeo, I wish to be breathtakingly foolish enough
To die for you
Because I know love is a little slice of insanity.
.
Balogun David Tolulope
{drunkpoet}
Drunk poet Jul 2016
Find me my only chap!
I saw him play with the kaleidoscopes
Right here
He left for the telescope
Over there
I noticed his cap on the sofa!

He must have gone to the playground
He love Rollercoasters!
Where I my only lad?
Did he go to play in the woods?
I stereotype he's lost!

Who will call me mother?
Who will  listen to my folktales
When the moon is out to dance?

Sun please shine!
When my nation cries out!  please wind
******* back to her!
Drunk poet Aug 2017
Arise, O ye unworthy sons
Conceived in the belly of an harmless zebra
Raised by fathers of gutless mind
Who dug our Graves with golds
Gotten from their unquenching cravings for dusted
Fantasy of our shoveled dreams
.
They battled with the ones in white skin
"heroes" they were called, cause they fought
In one anchor
The sang of songs from the lips like birds
Defending their territory, lyriced freedom.
.
But the corpse of shame litters our gaze
The injured hearts with withered hope of greatness
Bleed our progress
So we weep  heavily in saddened outburst
Cause we failed and our blood has turned black
For we "unworthy sons" they begot
.
The black bird of woes cries in a desolate
Place
For even the bones mourn us for their odds
We are!
Of what now be their heroic deeds?
Of what scores now be their victory?
For we search apprecia-fun,
When our little knowledge is torn.
.
©️ Balogun David Tolulope
{drunk poet}
2017
A parody my country's national athem
Drunk poet Jul 2017
Fate has choked on us
Our life driven by wind on monstrous sea
Conquered by our friendly foes
Invoking death and tears accompanied with plague
On our fatherland
.
Tonight, we bury our deads
For the they have joined our ancestors
Let us dress up our wounds for our visit
To the ancestors has been postponed
Let us sharpen our blades and smoothen our spears
For this is just our prologue
.
May fear not be the guest
But the gods in their very best
As we sit round the fireside,
May the gods ignite the fire inside
Sing! For this is the last dirge our lips would sing
Lay the young ones to sleep and sing them sweet lullabies
That they  may take shield in their tender dream
.
We fight back
Like Herculean with strength on
We write fate with ink on the clouds
Commanding death on our foes like rain on pastures
No one tell our story like us!
.
Balogun David Tolulope {drunk poet}
IG-@acedadrunk_poet
©️2017
Drunk poet Oct 2016
I might be able to connect to you
In you yoga,
But I must confess my love for you
Is mega.

I might not be able to sine the world,
But can the sun even shine your world?
Believe me my love will,
It can make your dreams real.

I might not be able to give life,
But even knows you're mine,
Devil fathom you're my wife.

I might not be able to protect you
Like superman,
But your love has made me the batman,
It gives me wings to protect you.

Poverty is vulnerable around us,
I will make you ride on the best horse,
Life is auspicious with us.

I might not be able to take you around the
World,
But you will always have my word.

I promise never to make you cry,
No tears except that of joy,
Will come from your frangipani face,
I know we are many in this race.

I promise to keep my promises,
No blemish on you, from head
To toes,
Dying for you is greatest luxury,
Please accept my manifestos.
Drunk poet Apr 2017
My soul aches,
Like a brain suffering from tumor.
My soul breaks,
Like that of a new day,
Telegraphing my tears  along with dolor,
Sormoning the beams of the sun each day.
.
So I sought this healer amongst waters,
Where birds sings and monkeys dance
Along the boulevards of blindness,
In a great hall of fame and great matters.
And herds converged, minds convened
Only with the Polaroids of sightlessness.
.
Like a drunkard she prays,
Welcome! Welcome! she says,
To an abode of hypocrisy, jealousy, blasphemy and misery.
The therapeutic healer, healing in agony,
Dealing in the paradise of nightmares.
With me  your fears shall fall like that of a lost boy's tears
And your pain meet the sweetening balm of my embrace.
She would make a good gift in heaven,
But even a better bribe in hell.

Balogun David {drunk poet}
Drunk Poets Society
© 2017
For a friend of mine..... Tony
Drunk poet Jul 2016
Hoping to get to the volcano over there,
The volcano of truth!
The Mariners at work
And merry unceased,
I also fell in love in the middle of Titanic.


The crew seem not to worry,
But our creel fell!
We still aim at the verdant volcano,
A strange movement of sharks,
The vultures be the losers?
Then a sudden movement of wind,
The Mariners and master unrest,
Tabled emptied of hands,
Only left with cup of beers,
Time for valedictory speech!

The tempest against our nation,
Fighting our culture,
The volcano in our fantasy,
The truth that is afraid to show forth,
So we died In failure!
Drunk poet Jul 2016
The white in black


The lightness In the dark,
White in black!
The truth in the untruth,
I see it in your eyes!

The white and black,
In your pale moisture eyes,
A gathering for thick rain,
But I see the love in your heart.

I see the darkness in your eyes,
I see lightness cling to it,
Success in failure,
I see your angel in beast.

I see the hope in your heart,
Think this not as a lie,
Fight it! Yes you can!
Survive it!
Drunk poet Jul 2016
Like cautious mellipede
I walk,
Not daunted to touch the best,
But this land is slippery.

Like fastidious Hunter
I walk,
Not Falling into the ambush I laid
For antelopes,
Because the land is slippery.

Like a cautious blind old man
I walk,
Not letting go of my rod like Moses,
Because the land is slippery.

I walk in the night like night,
On watch like a king's Knight,
Because the land is slippery.
Drunk poet Dec 2016
Time triangle
.
Time
The pyramidial form bewilders me
It's main focus set in my blury eyes
The triton of fate on which
The  destiny of my feeble soul lies
Of what answers to my poor
Soul seems to seek
.
When will my soul disappear?
Like the smoke from an old man's pipe
Vanishing into the clouds like it never existed
When will I pass from this physical life?
To embark on the  journey to the pillars of the  the world
My soul trembles because he know not bout his departure!
.
How will my soul evanescence?
Like stars fading away to avoid the day
Leaving no traces on the skylines
My soul troubles because he know not about his departure!
.
Where will I die?
Bidding farewell to this world!
Like young bride saying goodbye to
His fathers house
My soul grief for he know not about
His exit!

Balogun David
Drunk
Drunk poet Mar 2017
The memories of the shooting
Stars
Clinged to the wall of our souls
Putting out the old wounds and scars.
As we watched the sun set, embracing the soft air at twilight
Enjoying the tales of when we first met.
Pointing at the beautiful stars at night.
As we hoped for dreams to come chase us
After we've shuffled off this mortar veneer
.
Dearie, I see the dawn of pellucide in your eyes
The shining of pearls on your skin I remember.
Be well! My adeiu isn't forever
Maybe if am lucky I will end up
In your arms


©2017
drunk poet (David balogun)
Drunk poet Mar 2018
Today
.
Today we'll sing the victory song
Today, the rhythm of elegiac melodies and hymns dirges we will forget.
As our broken dry lips take new cosmetics  
.
Today we'll do the victory dance
Today, the rhythm of our drums will command
The beaded waits of our maidens
Giving the them the attributes of a restless tambourine
.
Today, soldiers we are!
Not on the battle fields, rather in battle
Against gallons palm-wine
As we drink by the epitaph of our own old  misery
.
Today we'll gather around our pantheon
As the smokes of our offerings invite them to our midst
Today we'll bid agony welfare
.
Drunk_poet
Drunk poet Apr 2018
Tonight, we'll forget about poetry and sweet lullabies
To compose our own songs of Solomon
The stars will watch over us through curtains of love
My emotions will be covered in the fragrance of yours

Tonight, we'll both be lost
Only to find ourselves in the wilderness of affection

Tonight, I'll feel your breathe and against mine
Our skin meshed together as we cross many lines
As my nose trace the moles of your body
From vein to veins

Tonight we Shall both speak in languages we know not
Until the liquor loses its grip on us
And have our neighbors inspired to do same
Drunk poet Mar 2017
Books I have come across,
Pages of old scribbles and thoughts
Old ones, both Legends and myths
I have seen heroes on the cross
Even events that are far gross!
But they seems to have lost their wits
.
Books of treasure I have found,
Where heroes and great ones won
Stories of time I have kept
Deeply rooted in my inquisitive chest
.
Books of fantasies I have explored,
The magical exuberance my bewildered
Mind unable to fathom
The fairy puzzles that old ones would not speak of!
.
Books, as they unfolds
From the stream of unseen
The scribbler and originator of mindset
Painter of destiny!
The author that lives by the Coast.

Balogun David (drunk poet)
© 2017
Big thanks to Benjamin Alaba
Drunk poet May 2017
Let me have a bite
Beside the shaped ancient teeth
From the mythic kola
Where only wisdom dwells.
.
Let me have a smoke
From the ancient pipe
Pulled out from aged toothless mouth
That smells our untainted heritage.
.
Let me have a sip
From the curved horns and cultured Calabash
Filled up with ale and undiluted palm wine
To intoxicate me with our heritage.
.
Let me have  a seat
Amongst the white beard heads
To play the "local game" with stones
So that I may be taught the bounds in my thoughts from
From aged bloods that flows like euphrates into the garden of our motherland.
.
Let us have some music
Sang with dry lips that echoes from soundless cave
Infuriated with flutes, gongs and talking drums
That we may dance-off our ignorance
To see the chain left by our ancestors to be drawn.

Balogun David Tolulope
Drunk  Poet
© 2017
Drunk poet Aug 2016
The pathetic woman,
Miserable than a clumsy man,
A widow far as I can reckon,
To her goodness never beckon,
She's without ecstasy,
Her dream turn out to be mere fantasy,
She lost her honor,
Overwhelmed with dolor.

So she seeks several sources and Lords with her heart,
She knew them not, never! Not on earth,
They made her believe all was necessary,
With lots of loads to carry.

She became a congregation,
Sitting helplessly without motion,
As she sobs and sobs with all her mind,
And cry and cry with all the ability she could find.

The church re-echo her petition,
Like a church favorite hymn,
All this seem like a kind of mimickery,
A real hymn,
Her blessings with a lot of imagery.

When my feet moved toward her,
She looks around from her chair,
She must be a widow,
And I was her husband’s shadow,
She seems barren,
Alas! Her son were caged like n hen,

Her husband alleged of treason,
And killed for that reason,
She now left with a hope,
He wish he could at least whisper “cheer up”
She needs a refined hope,
As she will one day drink from my cup.
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