Every one of us is worth something.
Even if you aren't part of those so-called celebrities,
our individual presence here is a special thing.
Be it to a special part of our society,
it's through service to our communities,
Love for each other and humanity,
sacrificial love and care for our individual families
That our true worths are calculated...
Not when praises towards us are superfluous
and for falsehood and vanity, we are celebrated,
But when our true worths are not based on anything facetious.


IB-Poetry©️
3/7/2018

Don't think nobody's interested in your life as it unfolds.
Truth is, it's the lowest depths you fall in that fascinates them.
Interested parties and haters hang around by the boatloads.
It's the wounds you sustained on the way down,
the maggots and the pains you go through to heal,
it's the struggle to bring yourself back that keeps them around
they want to come and watch as you struggle to your knees,
They watch you as you climb slowly and painfully back to life.
Watch to see if you're capable of rescuing yourself.
As always, your success is of least concern.
Human have a tendency to take pleasure in each other's struggles
I hope from this poetry that everyone will learn,
That behind all the facades and facetious bubbles
Exists the dark sides of all human beings.

IB-Poetry©️
3/7/2018

The more you work or harder you try
Some things just won't work
So don't sit and try to cry
Either you quit or put in more work.

The harder you try to look
Some things you just won't see
You can google or search a book
Some answers you just won't see.

The harder you care or love
Some people just won't care
You can clean or cook on the stove
That sentiment he or she won't share.

The harder you try for peace of mind
The more you will finally come to agree
That inner peace is not easy to find
It really doesn't exist in wealth or a degree.

IB-Poetry©️
3/7/2018

I was born with a gifted cooking hand
and the fact that I'm also a Bassa man,
made my job easier when I worked the grill
as a student chef at Salvatore's on Snapper Hill.
This proves that I'm my father's son,
The late Rev.Peter Brooks's grandson.

I now know the source of my looks
I'm genetically one of the Brooks.
No wonder why people say I'm cute,
Well, this I can deny neither refute,
Meaning I'm truly my father's son,
The late Rev.Peter Brooks's grandson.

From the way I dribbled the soccer ball
and the fact that I never grew very tall,
proven by the old measurement on the wall,
and cumulated by the fact that I'm going bald,
all prove that I'm truly my father's son,
The late Rev Peter Brooks's grandson.

IB-Poetry©️
3/3/2018

If the beautiful ones aren't yet born,
Who are these beautiful ones,
What are they doing here?
Are they going to be able to share,
where will they come from,
will any of them go to the prom?

When these beautiful ones come,
will they live in a normal home,
What will they look like,
will they ever go to church,
or be able to work,
or get in the kitchen and cook,
Will they eat with a fork,
love music,
and act classic?

Will they admit to being wrong
and afterward, sing a song?
Will they be happier,
Will their butts be bigger,
will their eyes be prettier,
will their strides be better,
will their skins be smoother?

Will they be able to forgive?
or look at others and wave,
where will they live,
will they learn to drive,
Are they going to behave,
will they ever get married,
or ever be happy,
or say the word sorry?
will they act like ladies
and be proud or their beauties,
or will they have babies
and tell them stories?

When will it happen,
will they love men,
or mess with women,
How long will it take?
Will they be able to bake,
will they love mommy,
or smile for daddy,
who will those lucky parents be,
will they Meet them to drink tea?

If the beautiful ones aren't yet born?
what's taking them so long,
what will they look like,
what will their voices sound like,
will they ever go to church,
or be able to work,
or read the Holy Bible,
will they embrace the hustle,
or live amongst the people?

IB-Poetry©️
3/2/2018

She was probably the most beautiful,
of any woman he had ever seen.
She turned every head
and stopped time from moving
and movement everywhere she went-
His mind went woozy as he thought of her.
From what he already knew
she was not only beautiful,
she was smart and
an accomplished professional.
Was this a sweet dream?
If yes, he wasn't prepared to wake up from it,
no not yet!
Maybe she was just a product of his imagination,
which was impossible considering that she was standing before him.
She was a woman of exceptional beauty,
probably the most beautiful woman
he had ever seen!
Helping her to her seat, he was overpowered by something.
Wait,it was the scent of her perfume;
It was the mixture of something
he wanted to think he recognized,
which he didn't and something
he had never before smelled.It was nice!
She seemed so flawless,
He thought her bath was prepared
in the constellations by beautiful goddesses,
and her bathroom was the milky way galaxy.
Yes her skin was undeniably radiant,
accentuated by the presence of large almond eyes.
"Wake up!" came the weak old voice.
Bewildered by the old barn keeper's presence,
and momentarily unaware of his location,
he panicked and squinted his eyes.
Oh ****, he was asleep, this was a dream!


IB-Poetry©️
3/2/2018