Midnight is the free festival of bright ideas
This is the time my side of the world sleeps
When bold and brilliant ideas suffers insomnia
Courtesy of the time zone, a victim of yesterday.
My side of the world is asleep momentarily
Yet the mind eyes of those awake deeply sleeps.  
Some sleepless nights can be progressive nights,
And though the mind eyes suffer defeat,
The reserved army of neurons have lights
With powerful beams to make outputs great.
And just because the ensuing battle looms
It doesn't mean the insomnia demon has won.
This is only a pause in momentum, call it a recess
Oh you renown nemesis of night ravens
Why do you torment me and impede my progress?
Now brace yourself for battle, it's time for revenge.

IvanBrooksPoetry©️

Every moment of your life is a testimony.
So no matter how good or bad,
Try to live in peace and harmony
with those who are poor, happy or sad.

Every moment in your life has a reason.
Some will make you feel very very happy.
There'll be moments in which you'll lose direction
making you feel downtrodden and ******.

Some moments will make you lose your voice
All because of the prevailing situation.
In some moments you'll have no choice
but to get confused and run in the wrong direction.

Some moments are like a good time
They'll thrill you and mesmerize you.
In the end, just like flowers in summertime
They'll eventually cease to thrill you.


IB-Poetry©️
2/26/2018

The world's weather has gone mad
Grace to man himself
Mother nature is so sad
That she turned on herself.

Now she sneezes disastrous storms
And ***** heavy mudslides.
At noon forests burns,
Leaving acres of burned trees and dead birds.

She no longer showers at noon
Instead, she farts powerful lightenings
And urinates wet monsoons
Before sending the floods in the evenings.

Mother nature is now a vindictive *****.
She unleashes extreme weathers in America.
Next, she breathes the cold on Europe like a witch
And seizes the rainfalls in parts of Africa.

Mother nature's anger causes earthquakes
Her frustration is linked with signs of global warming.
Greenhouse gasses will melt the artic and scorch earth until it bakes
As a sign to mankind that mother nature is fuming.

IBPoetry©️
2/5/2018

If you imagine it,
Do it now,
go after it
Do it anyhow.

Own it today
No need to wait
Do It Anyway
But just own it.

Start today
be all about it
go all the way
and don't quit.

Everything you just read
Were meant to inspire
So if you liked what I said
You have to go the extra mile.

©️IB-Poetry
2/23/2018

My favorite is the one by Jovan
The pervasive scent , nothing tops a musk
Why not Drakkar Noir or Ralph's Polo,Ivan ?
It's the appeal and aroma I love the most !

Musk is my favorite cologne.
That aromatic substance,the smell ,
The way it absorbs like a sponge
The mesmerizing and addictive spell .

The power and confidence when worn ,
the longevity and its staying power
That permeates the soul,deep as a ship's horn
Unique scent that lasts for hours .

The power of its undeniable presence
That lasts from dawn to dusk
Nothing compares to the fragrance
Of the distinct and classic scent of the musk.

I came directly from through the ranks
All my dues paid, my homage to life
To my God alone all my humble thanks
For bread I slice with prayer knife .

I came strictly from my very own hood
All of my dues I paid through my strife
To mama dear for prayers and our food
For all she sacrificed to save my life .

I came humbly from a very blessed home
All my dues are paid through my chores
To charity, that says take and share some
For all I learned , I am beyond my shores .

I came strongly ready to join the hustle
My dues paid with my years of readiness
To poverty, a real caveat for my struggle
For I've persevered through steadfastness .

#Vanguard-poetry

Long after the sun goes down over my grave
And the earth becomes my final resting place ,
Long after my soul has left its mortal enclave
My words will abound from earth into outer space  .

Long after my friends stopped thinking about me
And not a mention of me until my birthday,
Right when the 'late' is added to my name
While my departed soul awaits the judgement day .

Long after I 'm gone and my soul has departed
My great name will continue to softly echo
For ages to come, I will continue to be quoted
From the great beyond my words will spell macho.

Long after I'm gone, my ideas will go on motivating
And all the fruits of my labor will abound in others
For ages to come my messages will keep resonating
From the roots of my poetry to the minds of my brothers.

Long after I'm gone , my works will be widely read
And analyzed for their richness and very deep contents
Long after I've sojourned , about me it will be said ,
He who lays here loved poetry, albeit many other talents .

Long after I have left this temporal phase of my life
And my tired old bones have become a pile of dust ,
Long after I've made widow of my beautiful wife
My great name shall live on and never ever become lost !

#IvanBrookspoetry©️✍️
twitter @ivanclappers
#IvanBrooksQuotes
facebook Ivan Brooks SR

Words can leave you broken
Depending on what and to whom it was spoken.
Be it about your situation or image,
Words can cause tremendous damage.
So whether it comes from afar
Or from the drunken dude in the bar,
Negative words will leave you with an emotional scar.

Negative words will make you touch the sky
And some will you make you ask yourself why?
Some words will put your emotions in prison
For no justifiable reason.

Some negative words come at the wrong moment
In the form of a stupid comment
That will ruin your entire tonight
Thereby starting a fight.

Negative words are intertwined with vile statements
To mess up your beautiful moments.
Negative words can cause everything to go wrong
Special moments that can't be fixed using love song

So watch out for negative words my dear
Some words we'll try to bear,
from negative words, we'll never be able to escape
Not even in a Superman's cape.

IB-Poetry©️
2/9/2018

New day
Wake up  
feel the sunshine
go out
make today thine.

New day
Wake your soul up
burst out
Slay beyond time.

New day
Rise up
Wake up from your slumbers
Say today is mine

New day
Speak up
Say get lost uncertainty
Say hello to tomorrow.

New day
own it
kick out yesterday
go beyond your dream.

IB-Poetry©️
2/11/2018

Here's one thing about each day that's a fact
They don't begin and end the same way,
And no matter how challenging and whack
There's really no bad day.
Even though yours may start with a heartbreak,
A delayed rent or some unpaid bills,
know ye that your Lord thy God is great!
So even if you put in efforts and failed on the hills,
Rest assured a day poses no real threat.
So no matter what happens, a bad day never kills.
There's one thing about each day we wake up to,
They all begin and end in a different way
So from now on hereto,
There's nothing like a bad day.

IB-Poetry©️
2/10/2018

No hands
no problem.
no limits
no merits.

No money
No problem.
no inheritance,
No case.

No connection
no stress.
With benediction
I'll make progress.


No friends
No problem
With my hands
I'll call them.

No Wealth
No problem
With good health
I'm a complete man.


#IvanBrooksPoetry©
      2/7/2018

Even though everyman is his own man
Yet no man an island,
Because he needs the next man
To give him a helping hand.

Every man needs a friend
For a piece of bread when he's hungry
Without love for his fellow countrymen,
There won't be peace in their country?

Each man possesses a unique tone
Yet no man alone can make a mass choir
For he can't sing all the parts alone
He does not have all a choir will require.

A man's wealth may pay for his funeral
Yet he'll never be able to bury himself
For it's impossible to partake in a burial
When the person being buried is yourself.

I have been homeless
But never hopeless.
I have been jobless
But not faithless.
I have been penniless
But happy nevertheless.

I have been laughed at
But have never cared about that.
I have been downplayed
All I did was prayed.
I have been talked about,
Thrown out,
And beaten up...
Yet have never given up!

My home has been taken
But I have never been shaken.
When my possessions were removed,
I remained resolute and not moved.
I have been disenfranchised
Ostracized
And immobilized...
Yet I remained unfazed!

I have been used
And falsely accused.
I have been seriously abused,
And my ego bruised.
Though my suffering has been long,
Yet I have remained strong.
I have been called all sorts of names,
And unjustly pinned with blames...
Like the mighty baobab tree,
I haven't been moved as you can see.


#IvanBrooksPoetry©
12/6/2018

A productive life is like a hot cup of tea.
According to the temperature of your cup,
you have to know when to sip,
You can't hurridly drink, gulp or swallow.
Otherwise, it's gonna burn your lip.


©️IB-Poetry
2/23/2018

Oh death, you merciless master of the dark underground
Have you no conscious perimeter when you roll call?
Oh death, you heartless master of the great beyond
Does your job description involves making nice people fall ?
Why do you always take the best and leave us grieving?
Your only job is to waste beautiful souls and break hearts
A part of our existence as man mortal by God's reckoning .

Oh death, thy cold and frail hands often takes our dearest
Maybe it's God's will to call home the very best among us
Taking them beyond the starry constellations for eternal rest
Where their souls will ride atop a beautiful golden horse
How long will you cause us pains for your selfish gains ?
Most times you separate us from those we deeply love
Does it please you to silence us and pull hell's curtains ?
Oh death, from us thy grey hands have taken a white dove .

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

Some poems are like classic cars
They're old, bestsellers and great
Very famous and heavyweight,
Their legendary tales told at the bars.

Some poems are like Lamborghini
Fast, loud and stir up different emotions
They are magical and perform like Houdini
Taking us beyond our wildest imaginations.

Some poems are like a Ferrari
Fast, loud, costly and mindblowing
Some went through fine tuning
Ready for the adventurous desert safari.

Some poems are a Mercedes SLK
Fast,affordable,famous,people's favorite
Upon sight, people just stand around and talk
Every time we see them we celebrate.

Some poems are simple and great
Some are so good and impossible to rate.
Some will keep you woke
Brilliant and so off the hook!

Some poems are so romantic
Appealing to one's fantasy
Some are just so demonic
Embellished with total heresy.

Some poems are like a Rollsroyce
They intrigue us
Classic, historic, famous
They embody royalty, very luxurious.

Some poems are like a Bugatti Veyron
very costly, fast, collectible
Loved by kings and Barons
Making our speed appetites insatiable.

Some poems are Mustangs
Muscles, deep, street savvy
Gruesome like hunger pangs
They are powerful and heavy.

Some poems are like Teslas
Clean, smart, rich people's favorite
Costing the average people accessive dollars
They are smoothly written and moderate.

Some poems are like a Koenigsegg
Fast, rare, collectible and very costly
They instantly sweep you off your one leg
leaving you like '' seriously! ''

Some poems will make you go WOW!
And some will make you bow
Making you feel inferior to the poet
Especially the ones written by a laureate.

Some poems are mundane
containing things to drive you insane
Some poems are just cool
but contains useful cools

Some poems have powerful impacts
they contain deep knowledge and facts
Some poems are very good
Some will nourish you like food.

Some poem will bore you
Some poems will entertain you
Some poems will enrich you
And reach you wherever you are.

Some poems will set your mind on fire
And leave lasting impacts like screeching tires
Some poems are just incredible
Revealing things that are relatable.

Some poems are wonderful
And some are prayerful
Some are a little bit radical
And some are somehow political.

Some poems are just ordinary
Yet they're devotion to start early
And motivation to use during the day
Something to take you all the way.

Some poets are so creative
their poems are just amazing.
Some are outright provocative
Yet their works are just fascinating.


©️ #IvanBrookspoetry✍️

We are the Ronaldos of the skillful use of words
The Da vancis of spoken words and poetry .
In the poetic universe, we are the iambic overlords
We are the atoms that bonds words in poetic chemistry
Poets are the architects and cradle of twisted emotions
Yet some consider us the masters of storytelling
You are welcome to peruse some of our creations
In no time you will be amazed, just keep reading!

Some call us the Lebrons of all euphoric writers
Privately we poets prefer to call ourselves wordsmiths
Because of the creative ways we bend loose letters
For it's only poets capable of polishing words like silversmiths
Most of the things we write about are profound and captivating
The deep emotions we stir , all the tears they evoke ,
Our passion and poetic ingenuity, the gift of writing
Our days,our nights , our lives to this craft we'll forever devote !

Many Sleepless nights
Living on empty stomachs
Warlords, Senseless fights
Carrying on daylight murders.

Many young people were killed
Innocent women and children
Wooden box coffins unnailed
As the hopeless masses ran.

Three hundred fifty thousand
Number of innocent souls lost
Unmarked graves in the sand
Why did they die, at what cost?

Rest in peace to mama dear
One of the innocent souls lost
Oh justice, how close or near?
For answers, we need you most!

Power, weapons, money I have not
Spoken words I'll use to demand justice
Until I die, this fight I'll always be about
Mama is the caveat for demanding poetic justice

Poetic knitted venation
Is not commonplace like PlayStation.
All poetry lovers are connected
They share a love for words and
To poetry alone, they are committed.
Like Grios who tells history of the land,
They share a deep and common bond  
With emotions and mystery and nature,
Confirming what they share is profound.
They love painting words like a picture
And appreciate the essence of true love.
Every Poet marvel at God's creation
And daydreams and watch the stars above
From whence cometh the poetic inspiration,
Which blasts ideas like a poetic canon.
A poet acknowledges that true beauty
Is an abstract yet deceitful phenomenon
Which endorses the vague idea of being pretty,
That has so many people on the hooks
Society uses it as a yardstick to measure
Ans label us worthless because of our looks.
Poetry lovers are under no real pressure
To fit or blend in, all we do is create poetry
And paint beautiful pictures using words.
Poetic minds are partners with a chemistry
Derived from words as sharp as a Samurai's swords,
Words they use to cut through curious minds
And plant all the results of a sleepless night
Gathered along with the rest of the finds
Which will set the perpetual dial of poetry right.

Every poet has something to say.
Be it to himself or to the world,
Be it during the night or day,
Be it via a poem or spoken word.
The world is just too busy,
Or its people are often too lazy.
Either to acknowledge or listen
or pretend to humbly care.
This leaves some of them broken.
The sheer rejection some can't bare,
So they keep quiet until they die
Robbing themselves of a great chance
To hear from the deep and smile.
A chance to sleep with a grimace
Courtesy of a very beautiful poetry
Written to the world by a humble poet
Somewhere in a faraway country,
Delivering introspection, hoping for the best.

#IvanBrooksPoetry©
12/7/2018

Poetry is food
Food is energy.
Therefore it's good
To embrace the synergy.

Poetry is life
Life is very short
Find a wife
Let love fill your heart.

Poetry is a message
Message sent to us,
Wrapped as a package.
To unwrap, we've to focus.

Poetry covers everything
Everything we know.
Yet it's centered around one thing.
That which I can't talk about now.

©IvanBrooksPoetry
21/8/2018

Poetry is my choice of drug.
It gets me feeling very high,
Until I leap like a toad frog,
And make me feel alright.

Poetry is my feel good drug.
I Sniff for ideas like a dog,
It warms me up like a coffee mug
And make me float like a log.

Poetry is my ultimate drug.
I hit it hard, line after line.
Afterward, I just hit the rug,
Feeling very good and smile.

Poetry is my version of ecstasy
I party wild with many words.
And like a poet going crazy,
I just imagine and flaunt words.


© IB-Poetry
31/10/2018

I speak the language of God
I speak Alleluyah and Amen!
I speak a perfect spoken word,
The language of poets and gifted men.

I speak fluent Norwegian
The language of the Norsk.
I was born a Liberian.
That took time and hard work.

I speak sound French
The language of French Guinea.
I speak it whenever I pray in church,
God blessed me there as a refugee.

I speak the English Language,
The universal language of business.
Wall Street used it to do damage,
Damages that caused the financial crisis.

I speak the hustle language,
The one adopted by hustlers.
This language I have used to engage,
All my challenges and troubles.

I speak a special creative language
The one spoken by writers and poets.
This language is so unique,
That it has produced many laureates.


#IvanBrooksPoetry©
1/8/2018

Poetry is part of my story
So I write not for glory.
I care about it like my health,
And protect it like my wealth.

Talking about wealth ,I have none.
But if just in case I get some,
It really wouldn't matter.
For me I think peace of mind is better,

So I pen away my thoughts.
Leaving no rooms for any doubts...
My emotions,
And my inspiration.

My frustration,
And desperation.
Through it all,
I tried being stoic and rational.

Even though my pains
Even when it rains.
I write not about a special thing,
My work covers anything.

Sometimes it's about love,
Or about the issues I can't solve.
The things I take to God in prayers
The things others take to soothsayers.

© IvanBrooksPoetry
21/8/2018

On here I may be new
and my views few
but make no mistake
I have a point to make
And I'm here to stay
I have things to say
So show me some love
Or step aside and move .
I have found me a platform
Where I can perform .
I'll write from this podium
And use this medium
to represent and shine
As long as I have the time .

My greatest inspiration is Poverty.
It awakened something in me,
And inspired me to write poetry,
Yet motivated me to chase my dream.

Poverty is the caveat for my hustle.
It rekindled something deep in me,
And Prepared me to embrace the struggle,
And put me ahead of the survivor's game.

Poverty is the iivisible blackhole
That pushes me away from the ghetto
Oh Sonewen.you raised me like a flagpole
You are my Lagos and you are Soweto.

Poverty is the reason I push my children.
For I wish not for any of them to taste,
The regressive nectar from her left hand.
For it will brew in them pain and hate.

IB-POETRY
17/01/2018
#Bassapoet

Deat Lord,
I know we say too much of the little some people are trying to do when we should be trying to do so much about the little we have done...help us!

Dear Lord
Though I too haven't done much about the some of the little things
I have to do, I know if I put in some work and go according to your
plan and your will, I too will begin to do little instead of talking much...help me!

May the intangibles becomes tangibles and may success become my new address accordingly. May manna pour down upon me and everyone else in times of little and may it pour exceedingly...help us!

Dear Lord
May my vile utterances to not have devasting consequences.
May my misguided friends and relatives become people of purpose and direction.May my entourages be well-meaning people...
help me!

Dear Lord
Help me to give those in need.Help me to forgive those who betrayed in my hustle and put my bread on their personal tables instead of mines.Help those who believe others to stop doing that right now...help us!

Dear Lord
My kids I present to you to be in thy care.May Ivan jr not only drive a new van but bless him abundantly that he'll be able to buy anything in this world.Bless Peter to be more like Ivan and bless Sarah too to be more like both of them.Help her dear Lord to be that lawyer she wishes to become..protect and bless them always and forever...help me!

Dear Lord,
As I lay my head to sleep, may the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable in thy sight... moreover, may I set foot on the right path and continue until I find gold before I become too old...help me!

Dear Lord
As I wake up from my bed tomorrow, may the challenges of tomorrow that lay ahead become my testimony for your glorification.May the impossible become possible and may whatsoever man deem undoable become doable...help me!

©️IB-Poetry
2/27/2018

I cry very hard every night
For the land of my forefathers.
Once called Africa's golden child
Woe unto them that hurt you.
Like a child gunned down,
Somebody shot you in your prime
Your soul cries out for help
Purging the nectar of hate
Joggling the sack of opportunity
Looted out by pseudo politicians
And devoured by corrupt wolves
Who talks as revolutionaries
Paid with very huge salaries.
Hungry kids with sad eyes
Eyes stained with tears line
tears lines that know no tears.
Dried lips and Weak bodies
That can't stand neither walk.
Even if the did, where will they walk?
For the roads are now no more,
Washed away by corrupt erosion.
Ills of yesterday, void of compassion.
Look beyond everything, see the poor
Stuck in the black muddy ponds.
Those real victims of poverty, poverty
Tattooed on the souls of the poor.
Poor people who went en-mass
To the ballot boxes and voted,
For a change that's yet to come.
Waiting From the mangrove swamps
Squinting from the shines of the elite,
Dwarfed by brand new mansions
Gift from the country giant to himself. I'll pray every day for the masses,
Wishing the real Massiah would come.


IB-Poetry©
26/11/2018

While the world sleeps,
and the night creeps,
I wake my body to prepare
as the moon prepares to fade.
I plan for the rest of the day.
I'm very orderly, if I may say...
which way to go,
what to do
who to talk to...
look at my time
read a line,
take a drink,
before I start to think.
I water my flowers,
plan my hours,
check my phone,
right before I leave home...
ready for a fresh day,
set to go all the way!

IB-Poetry©️
3/9/2018

She said
Are you losing your head?
Calm down
You need me right now
Breathe in, breathe out
let it out.

She said
Take your time
You gonna be fine
You need this therapy
let's talk about your day
Follow my advice
Just close your eyes.

She says something
I heard nothing
I began to laugh
And I let out a sigh
She laid her hands on me
And took control of me.

She said
Tell me your problems
I help you solve them.
I began to stress,
My emotions were a mess.
She touched my lower back
It felt like an electric shock
I began to say something
And told her everything
I felt like I was healing
Or was I developing a feeling?

She said
Lie on the bed.
Man she had some curves
And the relaxed my nerves
She had everything
But I could do nothing!
This was just therapy
And for me a very bad day!

.✍️IBpoetry©️✍️

In times like these,
When troubles surround us.
and death hangs in the breeze,
ready to plunge with sudden chaos....
In lull, I say this psalm of trouble.
"Oh Jah, to you alone I look,
Help me to swim this sea of struggle,
Save me from this tidal hook".

Troubles may come on the double,
and pop me like a bubble.
They may Knock Me down,
Push me out of town,
Nudge me to the brim,
or prompt my glow to go dim...
still in Yahweh, I believe,
like a fig tree, I will survive.

In troubled times
My faith in Jah will double.
Though I lack dimes
and my limbs begin to wobble,
to Jah, I look and trust,
In him lies my power.
This, from dawn to dusk I'll boast,
Every day, every minute and hour.

#IvanBrooksportry📖

I don't know how to swim.
Yet God in his infinite wisdom,
placed before me all sorts of challenges,mountains,valleys,
fences, muddy ponds, deceitful human beings and ungrateful friends. .All because He knows I'll scale them, like a wall and still stand tall.
He knows my strengths and abilities
my weak sides and my strong sides.
He knows what I'm able to withstand.
So He gave me a beautiful mind And made sure I wasn't born blind.
And as an added bonus, two hands.
With this, I can take a pen and pad
And effectively pen away like a scribe
And describe the ugly sides of life,
turn pains into a true love story,
And write a vow for my sweet wife.
I can turn tragedy into a nice poetry
Whilst remaining sound and stoic.
That's why I'm not a world swimmer
but a humble man and a poet.

©IB-Poetry
11/4/2018

What's a house without few of its doors
and a community without neighbors?
How can  faith work without belief,
and how will we discover comfort without grief?
How can one Succeed without setbacks,
And what's a perfect body without six packs?
What is a heart without a beat,
How could it accomplish such feat?
What's the sky without stars
or the drunker without the bars?
What's the moon without the night,
or the sun without the light?
What's a woman's dressing room without a mirror,
Wouldn't that be a big design error?
What's a top model without a catwalk,
Where will she go to exhibit clothes and walk?
How can a child be born without a mother
and how can it be called a sister without a brother?
How can cars go without their engines,
how could they even be built without machines?
How can there be so many pastors
If there weren't as many sinners?
How can a politician help his people
He can never if he's not from the struggle.
How can he be popular in the hood,
if the people can not even afford their food?
How can there be a studio without a technician,
And how can you even record without a musician?
How can you be a poet if you don't write poetry
or be responsible for writing a single story?
What kinda poem have I written today,
What kinda questions are these by the way?


IB-Poetry©️
2/15/2018

What's greater than spoken words,
Yet poets flip them seamlessly?
What's Sharper than a Samurai's swords,
Yet great warriors used them bravely?
What's better than a woman's tender body,
Yet some men abuse them repeatedly?
What's purest than the tears she sheds
Yet it flows when she sobs quietly?

What's better than a mother's love
Yet she gives it so unconditionally?
What's more precious than a human life,
Yet many men live ever so carelessly?
What's more disappointing than Donald Trump,
Yet some Americans love him dearly?
Who came up with the idea of slavery,
Yet the world refuses to apologize openly?
Who invented the deadly assault rifles,
That people ****** innocent kids with remorselessly?

Who actually built the pyramids
That to this day, stands rigidly?
What's the function of the U.N,
Why are nations warring perpetually?
Why is it so impossible for mankind
To have peace, live and love harmoniously?
Where's justice for my queen mother
And the innocent people killed senselessly?
Why don't we appreciate the creation of this beautiful earth,
Why do we continue to destroy and mismanage it simultaneously?

Who came up with the concept of religion,
How did God Almighty become
A part of the prosperity Gospel industry?
Why do Rastafarians
Call him Jah,
Who are the true Christians,
Why do Muslims call him Allah?
Who named the Lord Jesus,
And why do priests proclaim
Peace unto us?
Who are Hindus,
What is the story about krishna?
Why do others worship
Budha?
Why do witch doctors
call him Babba,
Why do others believe
In no God,
But pray to the universe?
Why don"t they honor his word,
Yet from the bible quote a verse,
And when things falls apart,
They cry in his name?
What really is that?
Oh what a contradiction
And a big shame!


IvanBrooksPoetry©
7/6/2018

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

Upside down she hangs
from the stainless steel pole
She moves as her legs swings
Holding firm as she plays her role
Cat calls from ***** men echoes
From the lighted dance floor
She danced in high heel shoes
Often looking through the door.

She was half naked and she knew
That was her fate as a pole dancer
She felt ashamed, for she was new
She had no rights as a *** worker
A job assigned her by the smugglers
Tired, She often thought of the end
How could she escape her handlers
They had to do this every weekend.

Somebody threw her an old dollar bill
Undulating her hips, she tried to go low
One man touched her against her will
She flinched and gave him a big blow
This brought more jeers from the men
The music stopped, in came her handler
He seemed angry and slapped a woman.

The echoes, her high heel shoe squeaks
Then the music suddenly pauses for the show
It starts with the pimpish boss and the geeks
Suddenly I began to wonder to myself, how?
How did I unwillingly become a *** slave
Can somebody tell me where I live?
Why have not a soul to tell me to be brave
Tell me, do everything you can to keep alive.

Roll calls from the pimpish boss of bosses
I was born free but now I was a *** slave,
Who is to be held accountable for the abuses?
I need freedom, I need to say bye and wave.
Upside down, for many hours I would  hang
From the steen of the stainless steel pole
Making sinful moves, making my legs swing
Holding firm to dear life as I played my role.

How did I become an object of pleasure
Can somebody kindly answer my questions?
Why have I not a soul to help me find closer
To tell me, sister, there are better options!
How soon did society forget to fight for me too
Can somebody please hola at the government,
Tell them I am a woman, not an animal in the zoo
Make a plea against *** slavery, just a statement!

Now is the time to question *** slavery
Can somebody tell my mama to keep fighting
Have not a father to free me from my misery?
Beyond my will somebody sold me, I'm missing.


©️IB-Poetry
2/21/2018







'

I write beautiful poems in my quiet times
Sign that the universe delivers in silence
Like sought after answers to some mysterious crimes
With a poetic virtuoso, I rely on my intelligence
Which I use to attract imaginative awareness
To access the creative ideas brewing in my head
Certainly, for I write about poetic greatness .
For this journey, quiet time is a poetic seed
Planted at night when the entire world sleeps
Some of which I'll hopefully harvest before the world wakes
Mostly the matured ones that quietly grows and creeps
Beyond the reaches of all poem hunters who takes
Unguarded letters and affix them with poetic wings
Wings powerful enough to take them very far away
To the constellations where every dead poets sings
Hymns composed in honor of sister Maya Angelo everyday .

twitter @ivanclappers
#IvanBrookspoetry

Sometimes we sit in disillusionment
Steady and complacent in our status
Raving in a sinister type of excitement
Waiting for something to come save us.
Willing victims of our applied lifestyles  
Slaves of some of the issues we allowed
Two implementing partners in our lives
From whom we've constantly borrowed
When we were yet engulfed in confusion
We've worked but have been excluded
The world deprived us of a real revolution
Power, this journey is not yet concluded
Act not in utter desperation but wake up
We have many issues, we need to just recoil
It is now time to plan, execute and man up  
When we move carefully things will not spoil
Ponder your moves before trying to fix things
When we mess up, we will definitely rise up
Souring blue skies on a pair of blessed wings
Who knows, we could fly with clouds in a cup
We need to know exactly just what we want
Don't think instant solutions manifests itself
Tell me I lie after hitting this big prayer blunt
Wait a little while, go seek inspiration yourself
Answers to problems don't just come to people
People with issues will always seek a solution
The ultimate path for those who wish to hustle
To all their causes we dedicate this benediction.

There's ***** in every lady
and gangster in every gentleman.
walk with caution
and watch your action.

There's a killer in every
White police man in America.
And a race victim from California to Minnesota.Watch the new!

IB-Poetry©
17/12/2018

I woke up very happy
This joy isn't for me alone,
But for nearly everybody
Who calls this world home.

I woke up energized
To continue my journey
For me and those marginalized
For the poor who has no money.

I woke up determined
To continue with the hustle
My exuberance remains untamed
In spite of my personal struggle.

I woke up feeling blessed
For dear life and its woes.
I, yesterday was depressed
Today I care less about what life does.

I woke up very pumped
Determined to do better.
Yesterday I erred and stumbled,
Excellence today is what I'm after.

I woke up feeling rejuvenated
To change the poetic narratives
So I remain resolute and obligated
Hoping my poetry will impact lives.

©IvanBrooksPoetry
22/8/2018

Most often, I wake up at odd hours,
To meditate and harness my powers.
To my doom, the universe upload
To my notebook pro, I download.

I write often from inspiration
and I owe nobody an explanation.
So I write what I really feel like,
I write for yellow, gold, Black and white.

I'm a rebel poet, I follow no rules,
I write for all the rough dudes,
And I write for all the cute chicks
with skinny jeans and rogue lipsticks.

Sometimes my poems will rhyme
At times they come out as a hymn.
Sometimes you see the iambic meter,
and you wonder if I am a poet or writer.

I'm a rebel poet, I write what comes to mind.
My works appeal to the ******* and blind.
It also inspires the good, bad, young and old.
If you tell my story, make sure the truth is told.

      #IBpoetry©#Bassapoet✍
        <<7-15-2019>>

Why I'm here and doing things
and making long futuristic plans
Adorning my mortal body with furs and diamond rings
Why am I rushing to acquire titles to lands ,
knowing I will soon grow old ,
wither away and someday die ,
Leaving the warmth and be buried in the cold?
Why I'm I here trying to pacify my lie
Knowing this life is just a brief candle in the wind
And knowing I don't even own it alone ***** !
Yet I never come to the realism and make up my mind
That when time is up I wont be saved by my bucks
So why can't I fold my hands and throw in the towel ,
Yet I do all in my might to fight till the final hour
Circumventing the rules  even when ill health whistles a foul
Is it the fighter in me or my ego that has the staying power ?
The answer lies in the question as I reflect on my mortality
Am I a great ball of energy passing through this temporal phase of life ,
Or an Angel to bless or a vessel to channel or just a man in reality ?
The answer will come someday when I sit reflecting on my mortality all by myself.