Homelessness is not for the poor,
without a locked window or door.
Neither is it for the less privileged,
or all those that are marginalized.

We are all somehow very homeless.
This world is not our home, regardless...
Heaven is our home beyond this world,
A beautiful place prepared by the Lord.

Rich or poor, black or white, tall or short,
Our final destiny is what this is all about.
Every day brings us closer to the end,
End of the mission on which we were sent.

One day at a time, one by one, we'll all go,
To this place built for us a very long time ago.
We are all strangers in this world of ours,
Each man must live and love down to his final hours.

#IvanBrookspoetry©️
4-8-2019✍️

As a resident of hope village be very thankful -
If for breakfast you have just a cup of water,
Say a big prayer to Baba and be very grateful.
Know ye that someday things will get better!
When stock in Hope Village, be very grateful!
I once lived there and boy, life wasn't so easy,
I remember how I would look so very sorrowful,
Using a bowl of water to shave, that's crazy!
Especially when I used old T-shirt as towel,
And rotated an umbrella as part of my roofing
life was hard but hope was on another level,
I knew that answer to my prayers was coming.

Despite the fact that I lived in abject poverty-
Hope made my condition seemed less pathetic -
All my situation was under God's own authority,
And my goals and objectives were authentic.
Never give up, hardship is only a transit camp.
One day your rescue Angel will come souring,
With solutions illuminated with a bright lamp-
Lights you'll always need as you go hustling!

To the residents of Hope village, never despair-
If wind of change is yet to blow in your direction,
Stay strong Hope village, real rescue is in the air,
It surely will if the Almighty is your connection.
I see you are a resilient bunch, so be very strong!
Though trials will come, hold on and be resolute,
Blessing for those with deep hope never goes wrong,
From a veteran of the movement, I say a big salute!

I pray you will keep to the fundamentals of hustle -
Know that on that very special day of God's reckoning,
Your stars will dance to success' beat, not struggle,
And the village's talking drums will echo your blessing.
Everyone far and near will know reward time has come.
People of hope village, come get your reward for courage,
Say goodbye to yesterday and say to tomorrow, welcome!
Soon, your last sight of the mango trees in your village-
Will be a breathtaking thirty five thousand feet far below.
As the white magic bird climbs hosting your dusty heels,
Sad faces will say bye and friendly faces will say hello.
There you'll know how the answers to your prayers feels!
Someday you will return as a great hero to your village,
To lament on the audacity of hope and your very own story -
With motivational messages to give everyone some courage,
Poverty will no longer be the main topic, it'll be history !

#Vanguard-poetry23
twitter @ivanclappers

How can happiness abound
When hungry kids are around
How can I sleep knowing well
They live in a complete hell
How can I be proud of myself
If I have a pitiful story to tell
How can I turn a blind eye
When a child is blind in one eye

Because their day begins and ends badly
Every day they wake up very early
To collect dunks from malnourished cows
Who can no longer do the daily plows
Grace to the condition of the arid soil
On which the family would have to toil.
So...
How can I go to bed at night
Knowing something's not right?
How can I retire to a deep sleep
When those alive can no longer weep.

Because their lives were beyond broken
When for lights they look up to Akon
Because their leaders don't care about them
All masterminds of a rather brutal clem
The Notorious, heartless and evil warlords
Who became wealthy and turned landlords
It breaks my heart to see wartime millionaires
Keeping their dead brother's bones as souvenirs
So ..
How can I hesitate to expose this evil
By these heartless sons of the devil
How can I allow my voice to be silenced,
When power sharing is not yet balanced.
Why shouldn't I feel very bad,
When their angelic eyes are sad?

©️IvanBrookspoetry

At school
I wasn't too kool
And I wasn't tall
And Didn't know all.
In statue, I  was short,
But yet I fought.

On the playground,
I joked around
But I wasn't a fool
Always kept my cool.
When I got beat on
I made peace and moved on.

I came from a community
Known for poverty,
Yet mama tried.
At night she cried
Asking God to bless us
And help us to focus.

Mama was the bone of my family
So she woke up very early,
Papa had a side chick
So his moves were quick.
Back then I didn't know,
Everything was kinda slow.

On the field, I was a defender
Who didn't spare my own brother.
On my team, I played number two
No matter where, when or who,
I always defended my position
To me, it was part of my mission.

As a kid, I loved to go to church
Even though we didn't have much,
Yet Mama pressed my Sunday's best
Just so I could fit in with the rest.
At church, I prayed to my savior
For our hardship to be over.

On the streets, we had big bothers
Who protected us as our mothers
So we never went astray.
For this we had to somehow pay.
For good street education
And a guaranteed protection.

As a kid I had peace of mind
To my peers, I was nice and kind
So it was until the advent of war
I left home and went very far.
Crossing foreign land and sea,
Going as far as the eyes could see.

So this here is part of my story
Told in the form of poetry.
This is what transpired back there
I hope I'll be read everywhere.
This is my exile letter,
The story of how I got over.

©IB-Poetry
12/11/2018

I didn't parachute into 2019,
My journey started in 2018.
I walked through obstacles
And jumped many hurdles.
I swam across mighty rivers,
And was attacked by alligators.
I lost nearly everything,
And had absolutely nothing.
of course I ran out of money,
And babes stopped calling me honey.
I was falsely accused
And often times abused.
When I became penniless,
I also became homeless.
There were times when I sobbed,
when I got yanked and flogged.
Many times I vowed to give up,
But I had to continue to the top.
Some days there were storms
But I had to hang with both arms.
At times I had no calories to burn,
And obviously didn't know where to turn.
So now you know how I got here,
I didn't parachute into this year.

       IvanBrooksPoetry©
01/01/2019
#Bassapoet©

I think Poetry found me very early,
From somewhere in mama's womb.
Hooked to her umbilical cord firmly.
I heard something like a tiny bomb.
It was the sound of the talking drum,
Heralding the arrival of another grio.
So with gratitude, I said thanks mom,
And to the world, I said a very big hello.
Of course, I used the language of babies,
I cried and breathed in my very first air.
This was my first sight of the ladies
They smiled as they washed my hair.

My very first poem was a sad prayer.
It was written when I was very hungry
I was hopeless, I had only one dollar,
And no real prospect of ever making it.
So I took out my old used notepad,
UnfortunateIy, I had no pen to write with.
I wrote with a charcoal found in the yard,
And I wrote many long lines on my wall.
I wrote everything I had to tell God
Sadly, I couldn't write them all.
I cried in anguish to the Lord,
Asking If He had forgotten me.
Of Course, I got no immediate answer,
But years later my answer came.
It came in the form of a letter.
Addressed to me, ten years later
It came later but it felt better,
Instantly my struggle was all over!

The first love letter I wrote was poetry,
It was childish, unstructured and ugly.
It was written to a girl, she was pretty,
She read it and smiled, I wasn't so lucky.
Crushed, yet I pretended to be strong
I walked away but ran all the way home.
I cried in anguish and wrote a love song.
The lines were very sad, I felt all alone.
But I knew it was my first real rejection.
So I tried writing again, this time to me.
I was very focused, I was on a mission.
Finally, it finished and I wrote my name.
Unfortunately, the answer was the same,
There and then I knew I had no game,
So I reconciled and just took the blame.
Fast forward,and many years later,
I found the subject of my love letter.
I wrote a note to her on messenger.
I was optimistic because I wrote better.
I was emboldened by my poetic power.
Once again,the reply came to me later,
This time it was a resounding yes!
It felt so wonderful, thanks to poetry
And the universe I didn't make a mess.

  #IvanBrooksPoetry©
7/22/2018

We all need to eat
We are all guilty of something.
We all want to be great
We have all caused someone some pains.
We all have flaws and imperfections.
Some want profits and gains
We all have issues and situations.
We all have fears
We all have dreams and aspirations.
We all cry tears
We all have emotions
We all want somebody to love us.
We all have sinned
Some of us loved to be the boss
Many of us want to always win
We all want the best things in life.
We all love somebody
We all afraid of a knife
We will all die someday
We all fall short of the glory of God.
Many believe in God Almighty
Some have beliefs in no Gods
And frown on Christianity
Some have faiths in other Gods
and embrace humanity
..we are humans!

I speak, read and write
four international languages.
Not to mention a few dialects.
I have seen a thousand movies
and read hundreds of books.

I have been to four continents
and visited dozens of cities.
I have traveled by land, air, and sea,
and have climbed a few mountains.
I have seen three oceans, some seas,
and have seen dozens of lakes and rivers.

I have seen a Jew, an Arab and a Kurd.
I have heard their views and perspectives
On politics, religion and secular things.
I saw a priest, an Imam, a Rabbi, and a monk,
Performing their respective religious rites.

I have worked with Russians, Gypsies,
Swedes, Denish, Norwegians a Greek,
Some Lithuanians, Baltic and Polish peoples.
I have consulted with British, French, Germans,
Americans, Dutch, and other Scandinavians.

I have seen some very great monuments
Like the statue of Liberty and the Eiffel Tower.
I have been to many beautiful landmarks
Like the old Twin Tower and Have seen  
the new Freedom Tower and Central Park.

Yet I remain humble....

#IvanBrookspoetry
#Bassapoet

If yesterday was an old man,
He would be old by now.
His hair and lashes would
Be full of shining grey hair
And walking with a Kane.
He would probably be frail
And proudly speaking of the
Good old days marred with
Conquests and exploits from
From his youthful adventures.
The intricate details of his flamboyant
Years and youthful antics and shenanigans would bring sparkles
To his old wrinkled face.
There would be tears in his eyes
When lamenting on love and sorrows...
Squinting his eyes and fumbling to
Find faded photographs hidden away
In ancient boxes from dusty shelves.

If yesterday was an old man,
He would speak between bad dentures
With shaky voice of an aging legend.
He would go on and on with tales
Of all the places he has been and
Calling the old names of cities and
People long gone but alive in his
Now on and off and fading memories.
He would talk about voyages taken aboard old vessels packed with ancient
Cargoes and Slaves and whale oil barrels.
He would recount stories of monsters
At sea and great beasts that once roamed the earth when it was young
And green and void of pollution.
About places and people and various
Cultures ,would be captivating stories
That young people would only imagine and listen in absolute awe, almost to a point of envy for his rich stories of a good life once lived in the past.

If yesterday was an old man, he would have a repetoire of ancient skills and knowledge that no one has today.He would talk about locomotives and steamships captained by bearded old sailors with horse drawn couches driven by hardened cowboys and couch men.
 If yesterday was an old man, he would talk about world war one and two like it was just yesterday.

If yesterday was an old man, he would know more of yesterday than today.

#IvanBrooksPoetry ©️
4.16.2019

Chilly Cold Winds,
As nature unwinds
Stormy days
Traffic delays,
Frosty windows
Noisy Snowplows.
I hate this season,
For one particular reason,
I'm an African.
I'll do what I can
Just to pay my bills
I'll do what it entails
Until thou kingdom comes,
Until earth consumes my bones,
I'll forever hate winter.
That cold soft powder,
That ghostly white creature,
The nuance of mother nature.

© IB-Poetry
21/11/2018

I made it...
Though I haven't much of what it takes.
I certainly saw some pretty dark days
Though I have had my fair share of heartbreaks,
The Lord has blessed me in many ways.

I  made it...
Even though I've waddled in emptiness
And had my share of disappointments
And my equal share of Loneliness
I have also had so many blessed moments.

I Made It...
Though  I had my share of sorrow
Despite all this and through it all,
God kept me here to see tomorrow
I know by grace I will not fall.

I Made it...
Even though I made it without any money
And have had my share of Troubles,
I know my joy will come in the morning
For my meals will be served on many tables.

I made it!

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

I have the compulsion to just write
I can't wait to share all my products
Results of my many sleepless nights
My mind represents a little darkroom
Where I process all the inspirations
Gathered from all my timeless flights
Flights I made to the constellations
Where I creep upon few loose words
Words that blindly roams the night.

I come alive when the world sleeps
That's when the stars shines bright
Bright enough to illuminate letters
Letters I develop into spoken words
Words that I give wings and lights
Wings powerful enough to take them
To where they can all find some hope
Bringing lights to their faded dreams
Allow me to tell you about my mind
I am on a poetic fire and I can't sit
Not now, not even if I wanted to quit.

Ivan Brooks Sr

I woke up this morning
thinking of my last poetry.
It was done just before bed,
before I tuned in to the creative frequency,
and activated the poetic code.
That was way long before the
Sun silently crept into the deep,
Taking with it its illuminous web.
The sun which brightly hugs everything,
Is the inspiration for my poetic vocation.


I woke up early this morning
Thinking of my first poetry.
I want it done just before noon,
which is an ideal time of the day.
That ball of fire, millions of miles away,
Doesn't only shine, it inspires.
If the sun rays engulf everything,
The potent glow of the sun might ruin
and overexpose nature's beautiful hues,
one of the inspirations of my poetic vocation.

#IvanBrookspoery
14/04/2019

Today I had a premonition about something
It was about the kinds of poems I keep writing.
I know most poets don't deem them fit
And not every one of them will be a hit.
I know most people will think it whacks
And will boldly write a comment like *****!
And by the same token tell you '' just kidding''
We all know this is direct intellectual bullying!
And every poet sits here and do absolutely nothing.
How can you live without any remorse of shame?
Maybe people do it to silence the poet in me,
Maybe they do it to ease the pains in themselves
Or to find identity in their miserable lives.
As for me, you just wasting your precious time
You really need to up your bully game.
For me, I certainly will not be defeated
Neither will I ever be intimidated,
By any pathetic, mean and sad individual
Masquerading as a poet or intellectual,
Using Hello Poetry as a cocoon
To scar people's emotions like in the bully room.
You know who you are
And I don't care.
For I'm here to stay
And will write any day!

IBPoetry
2/8/2018

I talk a lot because
I have been through a lot
Seen a lot
Heard a lot
Experienced a lot
Been rejected a lot
Slapped a lot
Misused a lot
Abused a lot
Refused a lot
Lied to a lot
Worked a lot
Partied a lot.
Smoked some ***
Laughed a lot
Danced a lot
And spent a lot.

I know a lot because
Traveled a lot
I met some ladies
Rubbed their bellies
Some were hot
And few were not
I have done a lot
Been to a lot of places
Saw some pretty faces
I had some passionate kisses
Got in some crisis
Had few challenges
Had couple of chases
And had some near misses.

So as you can see
I have been through a lot
Messed up a lot a lot
So it's a lot!

Chose to love who you are
or respect who you with
You can give total care
get pregnant and give birth.
It's up to you
Love however you want
it's up to you
If it's what you want.

It's also up to you to love
yourself partially
And give perfect love
to someone else totally.
Maybe it's up to others
To love or hate you bitterly
or treat you like one of the brothers.

It's up to you to smile
or take the abuse and hold tight
if you think you can go the extra mile.
So stand up if wish to put up a fight.


IB-Poetry©️
2/26/2018

I was raised right
So I can bless a black Queen
Who through three trimesters, carried me
Connected by a unique umbilical cord
Where I got oxygen and nutrients and life .

I was raised to become her
World, her motivation, her fight
To say and do the right things
Things she told me when we talked
Talks we had about manhood and life .

I was raised right
So I can raise my kids right ..
I was raised Connected by a deep bond,
love amplified entirely by family ties
Where they get guidance to last for life.

I was raised right
So I can write about raising children
Blessed and gifted by God Almighty
From whom cometh my inspirations
I use to write about good parenting and life .

I was raised right
So I can continue the legacies
Passed down by my forefathers
Linked by genetics and our history
Strength to strength for generations
From my roots, through poetry to my life .

I was raised right
So I can speak against wrong
Mostly done in the right way ,
Obligated to fight for human rights..
From our fights for humanity
comes the true reason for life .

I was raised right
So I can learn right , Walk right
Talk right and do what's right ,
Fighting for my rights quietly..
Deep within our fighting spirits
comes our strengths for life .

I was raised right
So I can pass on the right things..
Impacting the next generation with wisdom
Where they'll have access to sage for life.
At the end they to can become an inspiration
To many great young men who will act right .

I was raised right
So I can love and experience love ,
Planting a seed in human emotions
Where the tree of love will blossom life .

I was raised right
So I can see the good in everything ,
Respecting everyone who has opposing views,
And practices different faiths and born
from another race and culture ..
All because I was raised right .

I was raised right
So I can respect every woman I see
And honor every vow to the one I chose ,
Taking her hand and making her my wife
And good dad to our kids till death do us part .

Every man has a calling
And my nitch is writing.
Mama gave me life and my name,
But poetry completes me.

Bless your soul Queen,
For my path is green
And my deeds are pure,
I couldn't ask for more.

I'm not a president.
But my words are important.
I don't need bodyguards
Only some pens and pads.

I'm not an astronaut
But a poetic juggernaut.
No ,I'm not a pianist,
But I play the note of a realist.

I'm a wordsmith and sageist,
That's better than a freak or sadist.
Call me a vessel of wisdom
Or frown and rot in boredom.

I may not be a musician
I spin words like a magician.
I'm a deep thinker and poet,
A writer and future laureate.

Jah gave me a unique gift
I'll therefore use it to uplift.
With it I can write, motivate.
Inspire, impact and create.

©IB-Poetry
25/11/2018

Keep going until a loss becomes a win.
Keep going for failure is not a sin
So don't you ever give up on anything
You never know what the next bend will bring.

Keep going, keep doing what you do
The bruises and scars you can't undo.
The world isn't interested in your downfalls
Some situations are just temporary walls.

Keep going until you can go no more
Success is a vault without a secret code
You never know when your day will come,
So keep going until you make it home.

Keep going until you fall asleep
keep going even if you'll have to creep.
Keep going even if you are shot at,
Beyond your efforts is where success is at.

#IBPoetry©️
2/3/3018

Once you came disguised as a playground friend
She innoceently accepted your requests
Sadly She even lend you a helping hand
Unbeknownst to her , you fed off her ******* .

You once came quietly like a stealthy beast
Bringing all your elusive demons along
But be warned this time , to say the least
This time You got your target all wrong ,

One night she roared with a new battle song
Armed , sassy,fully grown,and ready for madness
Like a true fighter,she was now battle strong
The girl was no more a cub ,she was now a Lioness !

Be ready for war, be ready to lose vital arteries
Awaiting you now is a mighty force beyond you
A force that'll neutralize and dry your batteries
Take note and stay in your very own lane boo boo .

She has an audience and a stage and this here podium
On which to stand and let out some of the steams
Brewing for ages via spoken word and this medium
Listen carefully , do you hear her audience and the screams ?

She has taken back her space , her power and her life
She found her own calling , evident in her poetic prowess
That little girl is now a mom and someday going to be wife.
The girl is no more a victim ,she is now a full grown lioness .

#IvanBrookspoetry@✍️ #vanguardofLiberianpoetry©️

I am Kunta Kanti, here is my story,
I came from the kingdom of Jubaru,
I'm the most famous Black male slave in history.
Before freedom and just before uhuru,
I came here chained as helpless as a slave
***** changed my identity and named me Toby
On my knees I begged my dreads not to shave
He did and from then on ,his rules I decided never to obey.

I was brought here chained from my toes to neck .
Lying in my own filths and panting for some air .
Look at how *****'s whips ruined my back ,
Many times in anguish I wondered if this was fair
Fair or not, the damage has been done,
I am a warrior, so for me don't you ever be sorry !
Someday my scars ,this cotton field will all be gone ,
I'm not Toby, call me Kunta Kanti  , and this is my story !

If only Kunta kanti had a camera phone
He would've captured many untold stories
stories of a sad slave girl sitting all alone
Sad stories of overworked slaves with worries .

Stories of ''*****'' holding the Holy Bible
And in another hand the everpresent whip
There would've been images of souls no longer able
To work from dawn to dusk without a drop to sip .

If only Kunta Kanti had a remote controlled drone
Or a Facebook account to share stories and go LIVE
The world would've seen the master's no go zone
Where he buried the bodies of those no more alive .

Stories of the slave master's cruelty would've gone viral
And on the other hand exposed the ugly slave trade
He would've been seen as a vile man who lacked moral
Maybe a jail sentence because of the video Kunta made .

Maybe ,just maybe if Kunta Kanti had a camera phone
It would've caused a public outcry and a Black Lives Matter's rally
Al ,Martin Luther King III and all Black folks would've gone
The names and stories of all slaves would've been read at that rally!



Facebook #IvanBrookspoetry
twitter @ivanclappers

I don't know how this came to be
But it just occurred to me
This dude messed a lot up.
Who made that day the Worldcup
Set aside for all lovers?
The rose flower bearers
Who uses Valentine day
To manipulate and play
Games and do shenanigans
As soon as the day begins.
How did Valentine do this?
For many, it's a day of crisis
Every day is a day for love
As mandated from above.

I, therefore, declare him dead
I wish last week was his last deed
I hope he has a heart attack and dies.
His day, essentially all a bunch of lies
Meant to discredit everyday lovers.
Those dedicated and working like bulldozers
Day in and day out to keep loving
Until this fool, Valentine returns smiling
With a few roses acting like a Casanova
Who has the benediction of love from Jehova?


©️ IB-Poetry
2/20/2018

I know where I want to be in five years,
but I really don't know how to get there.
Though I have uncertainties and fears,
as to how to start, when to start and where,
but I'm pretty sure If I do it like I did
five years ago and five years before that.
When I trusted God to guide me through it.
Encompassed by faith, I just hung on like a bat,
For One year, one month, one week, one day,
One hour, one minute, one second, at a time.
I held on through the storms, I held on all the way,
Emboldened by faith, I took a leap that got me home.

©️IB-Poetry
2/19/2018

A shout out to LeBron
For a big night in Akron
A welcome win for the Cavaliers
Tonight against the TimberWolves.

Cavs finally ended the drought
Via the energy they brought.
Coach Tyronn Lue drew up a game plan
That finally brought a win to the land.

Both teams put up a spectacular show
Leaving the erratic Cavs fans like wow!
The combined 3s of forty was historic,
Shot by both teams was really fantastic!

Tonight LeBron played like a real GOAT!
Playing great basketball from all over the court!
The big block on Butler is not what this is about,
But the clutched game winner fadeaway he shot!

IBPoetry
2/8/2018

Dear future,
Before the rapture,
I was born here,
There was greenery everywhere.
Before the great wars,
It was the advent of smart cars,
And information technology,
Many people embraced diversity,
In some places in the old world.
Of corse I lived to be old
It was the era of smartphones
And the invention Of drones.
This was before the end,
When beaches still had sand
And the great oceans still had fishes
That we cooked them in nice dishes.

Dear future
I was here,
Before the great flood
We grew our food.
We ate meat
and grew wheat.
The earth had trees
And honey bees.
Flowers blossomed in summer
In case you may wonder
What happened to us,
Earthlings lost focus
And abused nature.
That was the era of pop culture,
When everything was good
And few were in a good mood,
And ninty nine percent were poor,
Few lived in huts without a door
Yet they managed a smile,
And many walked the extra mile.
Even though situations were dire
Few managed to love and share.

IB-Poetry©
26/11/2018

One day I wrote in my sonnet
Life is a very beautiful poetry
That lures curious minds like a magnate
and entices it to commit poetic adultery .

I reckon every man is a natural poet
So whether you live as a writer in the country
Or universally recognized as a laureate ,
Every man is the true embodiment of poetry .

Life , poetry and nature are so harmonious
Because they'll capture , stir and evoke emotions
It's like when hummingbirds gets curious
Their songs gives out inspirations .

Whenever life gets tough , poetry continues to flow
As sista Maya Angelou said '' write and be creative !''
Even in the dark your words can glow
Be stoic and see life from a poet's perspective. ''

Poetry measures life's angles like geometry
So call poetry the teleprompter to life
based on this I say therefore life is poetry
and poetry definitely lives in life !

Learn to always love yourself
For it's the realest and greatest love of all
Learn to prop and balance thyself
I guarantee you'll never ever fall .

Learn to always say the truth
They say it will always set you free
Don't trust words from a man's mouth
Some truths will hang you from the tree .

Learn never ever to believe a living man
For man to man is so very unfair
Learn to never trust a beautiful woman
Many things fits beneath her long hair .

Learn to always hustle and look for your own
Nobody has time for those without
For the poor will always be the least respected in town
Nobody really cares what they're ever about .

Learn to always give those in need
But make sure you do it when you can
For charity is a blessing and a seed
And learn never to say yes when you can't .

#IvanBrookspoetry✍️©️
twitter @ivanclappers

Let nothing affright thee
Nothing lasts forever.
Let nobody tell you what to be,
It's your life, you can become whatever.
Live your life.

Let no earthling suppress you.,
Nothing is greater than God.
Let nobody mess with you
Make sure yours is the final word.
Live your life.

Let no man tell you he's immortal
For we will all die someday.
Let no man treat you like a nonequal.
If he does, peacefully turn and walk away.
Live your life.

Let not your heart be troubled,
As the Lord said in the good book.
It doesn't matter if you're blind or crippled,
Be glad you're alive and not how you look.
Live your life.

IB-Poetry©️
3/17/2018

Why is Love considered blind
But it's actions are always kind?
Why does it sweep us off our feet,
Is it because it's powerful and deep?
Why do others think it's contentious
And some say it's even dangerous?
They say Love surpasses everything
Except for one very important thing.
That love is not greater than God,
For the good book says He's our Lord.
So in essence, God's agape love
Is greatest because it comes from above!

  #IvanBrooksPoetry©
15/6/2018

Love and knowledge  
are disseminated using the same principles;
The latter is obtained by reading, research or college
The former can be measured using many variables.

Impact people with the former,
and it will surely be passed on.
Show or treat people with the latter,
they too will spread it like roll on.

©️IB-Poetry
2/20/2018

If love had a meter
And inputs were measured,
As a partner or a lover
Would you be surpassed?

Would you allow yourself to be cheated
In order for the love to thrive
or  even out-communicated
Just to make sure the love survive?

If love had a meter
Would you allow lesser time
And seek to do even better
Just to make sure things were fine?

If love was timed and monitored
Would you willingly agree
For your love meter to be decommissioned
So our love can blossom and be free?

If our movements were restricted
Would you allow me to run freely,
In no form or shape be intimidated
Just to prove you love me dearly?

If love depended upon equal inputs
Would you be so caring and selfless
To disregard the unwashed dishes and pots,
My relaxed demeanors or care that I do less?

IvanBrooksPoetry

Some people have time and some have money.
Other people have money and no time left.
Many people have the time but have no money .
Some people haven't money neither time left .

Some people have money and no time for love .
Many people have no love and neither any money.
Few people have money so they get pseudo love.
Some people have love that costs maintenance money .

When a woman loves you
She will cry like one dove
And her soul will desire you
She'll do anything to show that love.

You will occupy her thoughts
And She will love you for real.
But when her days are overwrought,
Help her by night to heal,
And mend her heart with glue,
Made from honey and red roses
Apply them when the sky is light blue,
A perfect time for amour and surprises.

Take her for a walk by the pool
Make it a special time in her life
Soften her heart like wool
Ask her to be your wife.
Make the night stars know she's your boo.
Give her a hug, touch, and feel
That will make her smiles to glow
Let every touch you give be real
Romance her with that amourous virtuoso.

Hence when a woman is in love
She loves for real,
Make her touch paradise for real
And give her a love story to tell

When man mortal with a title
Becomes vile and self righteous ,
He walks around with the Bible
Holy acts and all sacrilegious
Carrying LBGQT rainbow banners
Hailing the devil's temporal empire ..
Accomplished false pretenders
Adorned in bright priestly attire
Those revered by man mortal
Who himself discovered religion
But have lost God Himself in total
God the grandmaster of creation,
Who made everything in days
And created mankind in his image
When man transgressed in fleshly ways ,
He taped Agape love to the damage .
And for himself, God created mankind
Then by mankind , God was created
For mere control and mastermind
And to do this the world was reinvented
By man because he wants to play God
But lacks God's divine omniscience
So man can't become his own overlord
Bless the limitation of his intelligence .

When the land is arid
and the ponds are dried up,
Dying frogs find moisture.
They hop from place to place.
Cocooned in comfort,
We wine and dine.
Indifferent to the pains
And the suffering of the poor frogs.
Fun times for human!
One day mother nature strikes,
The opposite happens
and humans are drowning...
Humans begin to struggle and clamore
Dying by the thousands.
Frogs watch us floating bye
Fun times for frogs!

©IvanBrooksPoetry
15/10/3918

In a great song Marley once said
Growing lot of hair meant knowledge
Rastafarians went on dreadlocks raid
And so Peter Tosh skipped college .

Bob said Stand up for your rights
People without rights stood as well
That was the beginning of our fights
From then on, I heard the alarm bell !

Angstrom too quoted a line from Marley
The one that says''Now we see the light''
God bless his soul for coming in so early
Man I must admit , he's poetically bright!