Mid-February is not like January
There's always so much going on
Yet she seems to be in no hurry
Oh, I wish she'll soon be gone.

Mid-February is such a slow journey.
I can't wait to see the face of March,
At which time it will be a bit sunny,
I can casually dress and go to church.

February is like that crazy *** friend
Who's always a part of your daily plans?
Though he's always giving a helping hand,
He'll litter your place with empty beer cans.

February has always been a unique story
That I've never wished to narrate all alone.
So be it, if I may, but I'll not sit and worry,
But wait on March in the comfort of my home.

IB-Poetry©️
2/19/2018

High up above our war-torn city,
On Snapper hills sit the old lighthouse.
For years in storms, she did her duty
Rain or shine without any kind of excuse.

High above our beautiful sandy shores,
Just like a good mother, she watches
not only over vessels but those
Who lost hopes and suffered all kinds of damages.

The light she flashes has for years,
Served as a perpetual beacon of hope
For those with bad memories and fears,
those traumatized by wars who still can't live and cope.

High above Monrovia, she stands
Watching the resilient people below
Survivors of the deadly Ebola strands
Who once refused to bow their heads low.

High above she sits, beyond the Montserrado basin.
At night her light remains the star of the city,
That has endured moaning and crying,
A city that has seen the good, the bad and the ugly.

The old lighthouse still stands there today,
directing maritime traffic at night
and flashing light over our beloved city
That for years witnessed a ****** and senseless fight.

IB-Poetry©️
2/19/2018

Why is it a challenge now to stay alive
Than it's easier going on FB Live?
Why do millions go to bed very hungry
and millions wake up every day angry?

What kinda world have we invented?
I'm sure this isn't the one God created,
Weren't we to inherit it, multiply and prosper?
Yet the poor cry themselves to bed in a whisper!

Where is the love, where is humanity,
Why can't we live in peace and harmony?
I'm pretty sure it isn't what Dr. King died for,
Why is there still a gap between the rich and poor?

So who is the noble amongst thee, is it the poor farmer,
Or is it the politician and filthy rich banker?
When will we admit that it's all about profits and gains,
That the poor will live, dwindle and die in misery and pains?

So why is the pastor alone benefiting from prosperity Gospel,
Why can't the congregation cease taking their money to the pulpit?
Why are these people living like kings and fly private jets
and the congregation crawling behind them like pets?

Why are there so many evil things happening in this world,
When will you finally come to save us, Lord?
When will thy kingdom finally come,
Like a king in the clouds to finally take us home?

IB-Poetry
2/15/2018

Any man desirous of finding gold
Should have to search in faraway places.
On the journey, he must try to hold
A gun ready before the gold surfaces.

For ants, he'll need a branch of any poisonous plant  
He has to be aware of the slim chances of dying,
Either at the hands of another man than the bite from a fire ant,
Which causes excruciating pains that'll leave him crying.

IB-Poetry
2/15/2018

I see not much through my mind eyes
What I see are dull and blurry images
Some are formless  and impossible to analyze
However  beyond what my ESP manages,
I mostly see alphabets and words on crutches
Badly in need of formation and rearrangement
Literary adoption and eventual placement.

I see not much through my mind eyes
I see tired vocabularies in need of exercise.
Some are so downtrodden and hopeless
I had to squint to gain my optical sharpness.
The nature of what I see is more metaphysical
So I avow to spit poetry that is real and actual.

IB-Poetry
2/17/2018

Legend has it that Delilah was very beautiful
Yet her continence and deeds were all evil.
And even though Sampson wasn't very careful,
I think the power of love made him an anvil.

Delilah's pseudo-love was certainly deceitful
Maybe love chooses its own victims or preys.
Especially if the woman involved is beautiful
A factor that enhances the power of love always.

Did the power of love overwhelmed Sampson?
No, he was the victim of a contagious disease
That has no cure but when given a reason,
It will just invade your thoughts and increase.

Love is blind and it made Sampson very blind
Courtesy of the overwhelming power of love
It failed him and never treated him kind
Which leaves us an amorous mystery to solve.

Delilah, Sampson's love, was a vindictive *****
Yet his love for this woman was real and deep.
In her, he saw a very pretty woman, not a witch
Oh Man up strong man, giants don't ever weep!

Delilah the woman you Love was truly wicked
Do you clearly See what she did to you, Simpson?
Know ye that to trust a woman is to be stupid
It is my hope that you have learned your lesson.

IB-Poetry©️
2/15/2018

I can sit and write a love story
or a very nice piece of poetry
about a girl who was so beautiful  
and make it sound wonderful.
I can write about her attractiveness
maybe say something about the softness
of her satin-like skin and kissable lips.
I can describe how she undulates her hips
When she sways to the beat of the music
and make moves looks seamless and classic.
I can describe her strides as she rocks the beat,
Leaping like a ballerina in uncontrollable heat.
I have the option to call her a sinful seductress
Or take my time to paint her as a temptress.
.......all because I'm a poet.

IB-Poetry
2/15/2018