Jay 7d
The night reek of dead bodies
and the moon is scared of the sky.
These are breathing corpse,
scrambling for oxygen.
Can't you see their pitiful eyes?
Life is living through death
Broken coffins, laid opened.
The smell of dead bodies
made love with the atmosphere.
Why is the graveyard filled with empty tombs?
Has the soulless souls risen?
I can hear the cry of bush babies
rippled from decayed breast
Tonight we dine with the zombies
that roam our streets and drink from broken human skulls
Tonight we shake hands with death and dance with the spirits.
Jay 7d
Have you seen kenya & Malawi??
Nigeria is worst
never should anybody say
we are the giant of Africa
it's a lie , the truth is
we are all failures
Thinking that
we actually succeeded
After independent
it's wrong and we know.
Living only for our pockets,
stealing from Nigeria
it's all we try to do
mutual respect, love and peace
will never be
biafra are fighting
fulani herdmen are killing
bokoharam are kidnapping
our country is a war zone.
Jay Sep 27
I see a PEN
rising against nations
causing chaos and
bringing peace.
whoever shall wield a pen
will be possess and
filled with extraordinary powers.
men will worship and dance at his(her) feet.
I see poet-trees
growing even in desert
bringing forth good fruits and
feeding mankind with wisdom.
Men shall **** to taste its juice
and a day without reading a poem shall be like a day without hearing directly from *** Himself
Lawyers shall quote poets
to win a case and doctors in the psychiatric ward will prescribe poems three{3} times daily as the best remedy for bipolar disorder.
Descendants of EVANS
will no longer chase after rich politicians and business men buh for a man with the right ink.
A poem for freedom.
Poets will be scattered abroad
preaching the Goodnews of poetry..
The world will celebrate em
and many will force themselves to write.
I don't know when this will happen buh i know it will and when its does, i hope someone finds this post and quote my PROPHESY.
Jay Aug 15
There is no love on me
without you..
like a food without salt
i lack taste...
How did you do it?
How did you leave a mark in my life
with a permanent marker?..
The memories of you
are like ink stain on a plain sheet
****! Hard to erase...
Remember how i wanted to just create memories with you...?
How i wanted to be THE GUY
until you meet YOUR GUY?
How i wanted to mend
your broken heart cause
i felt pretty girls shouldn't cry?
Yes! I ended up memorizing
your name in my dreams...
I got jealous of those guys
and became the crying one
oh! Foolish me...
Wish i knew today from yesterday..
That your body will soon get numb to my touch...
And your hands will no longer welcome my hugs...
Jay Aug 1

I stand in a graveyard
of buried bodies, ideas and dreams..
Surrounded by millions of tombstones
the Epitaph
i dread to read..
The darkness welcomes me home
like a mother waiting for her child.
Tonight i dine with the ghosts
that hunts my night..
How do i show mama
the graves beneath my bed?
Where the innocent heads
she raised was killed and buried.
This holes dug by depression are deeper than her love could fill.
The silence is loud
i can hear them call
from within
This lovely voice of the devil
i can't resist..
i shall split my wrist
lie with my forefathers.
(c) Jay.E.udo
Jay Jul 30

Never fall in love with a poet
They will break you apart like stanzas
rhyme your pains in lines
And leave a piece of you in every written piece
You become a metaphor
A simile, an oxy-*****
The IRONy of love melting to the sarcasm beneath their tongues.
Never fall in love with a poet..
They have the poetic LIE-SENSE
To imprison your mind with every SENTENCE that escapes their lips.
They will tear you apart
like rough draft,
burn you, and then
call it arts.
You become a box of poems
A commodity to the arts.
Never fall in love with a poet
they are too creative with love
too creative with words.
They will **** the ''I'' in simile
just to make you smile.
Never fall in love with a poet
if you don't have the he{art}.
Jay Jul 30
Oh, strange friend!
Let thy presence fill me once again.
Thou art close yet far away,
trapped behind written words,
The true definition of love,
when shall i see thy pretty face?
Oh, strange friend!
Let me behold thy face,
that i may read thee as a book.
For in facebook i hath found thee,
and in thee i hath love
encrypted in every 'hellos' and 'hies'
you sent right into my inbox,
when shall i see thy pretty face?
Oh, strange friend!
I hope we meet again tonight,
on this very app of surprises.
I hope you say those lovely words
that takes my cheeks high
and cause my heart to smile;
i hope to see thy pretty face
even for a while.
Strange friend!
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