If only thine resolve woult split this hackneyed arrangement,
Of decades bound up in  insidious impoverishment,
Cornered to loud silences behind qwerty lines,
Only praying for the day of pleasant places along scentous pines.

But who will bell this monstrous bush cat,
Gorged on the sweats of the lowly trodden,
Whiskers curled in the till of a million poorly afflicted,
And claws on the jugular of the southern dark lady?

He just rolled out a poorly prepared script,
ingFailed attempt at ignite hope in anyone,
Streaming his **** and bull story in perpetual darkness,
Simply wasted megabytes of cheerless nonsense.

And what's there to be happy about?
Executive stupidity on heartbreaking display?
Immoral Legislative senselessness on constant rotation?
Or Judicial frivolity transfusing decadence all year long?

She picks up and smashes my old cell phone,
Ears ***** at every text and ringing tone,
Naturally drawn to ones and zeros,
And excited by every four-gee and byte stream combos.

But whence hath humanity's milk of kindness,
The drowned hopes and expired ambitions?
Affluence eats up everything but portions of poverty,
Served daily to depressed, frustrated orphans of benevolence and sincerity.

Where art thine empathy,
In the  times tears hath diluted  endless gushing of blood?
Rivers of agonizing  empty stomachs sleeping rough,
And those missing limbs never to know the warmth of a  loving embrace.

The complexes that afflict  my sensory synapses,
And the torments that assail my mental imbalances,
All contribute to the ambivalence of my thought processes,
And unwillingness of my backside to leave the warmth of my complacent recesses.

The beloved shackles,
Oh, those fettered minds,
Hands that never want to swing free,
And feet always contented with walking forward, backward.

The brown of harmattan,
Dry, windy and dehydrating,
But if there be one thing,
Peace from the silent, old noisy fan.

I seek a harder existence,
Someplace love offers resistance,
And laughter pricey luxury,
And nobody pays mind to a life of penury.

Was pure, and came from a genuine place,
But this angel turned away her face,
So I gave my innocence to other devil,
And daily plead guilty to a heartbreak of evil.

The silent screams of the grave,
Crying for justice,
From equinox to solstice,
Deafening howls that mere prayers cannot stave.

This land flows with blood and tears,
And for a million years,
Vampires and gremlins,
Make love to werewolves and cretins.

Boyfriend, husband, father,
Bae, hubby, daddy,
You may call me freddie,
To me one and to them the other.

Because of you, my father,
My conscience can turn away,
From the things I would rather be,
On to the more pleasant and worthy;

Although you are gone,
The precepts you showed me,
Guide my hand when the sun comes up,
And tucks me in bed, every night, without fear.

"Howdy, how's it going?"
The icebreaker at the time,
Was not a fancy one liner,
But must have caught that beautiful eye;

So the planets have realigned,
To form the third chapter,
In this journey of life,
That will take you to magic filled places;

And as our stars have crossed,
And the heavens bear witness with us,
And praise the gods for their yearly benevolence,
And for a brand new year of jolly, jolly hurrah!

<3 : TOFA

Then mother holds me close to her *****,
Says soothing words I come to recognise,
Prays I may live to blossom,
And find this world friendlier than nice;

It is then I gently open my ****** eyes,
To be shocked by the blinding kaleidoscopic hues,
But mother lovingly sighs,
And joyfully, she sings to me, my favorite baby blues.

You see the lies slide off his tongue,
Like that bald, bearded singer guy slid into her DM,
The bespectacled minister of mendacity,
And cyber media in a frenzy over their announced engagement;

We have been here before,
History making a case for repeating itself,
The curious darkness that enveloped the airport,
And the magic of that Dubai exchange of vows;

It is two years on this train,
The tracks heading off into the distance,
The origins of this journey we know,
But halfway there the engine sings a different tune;

After holding Nigeria spell bound by their chemistry,
On the sequel of the highest grossing movie in Africa,
We are called to witness the crystallisation of a well hidden romance,
It's always beautiful to behold, something magical;

So here we are on the eves of two great milestones,
A delayed love story playing out real time,
And a commanding life hanging in the balance,
Will the past be dragged into the future

Selfish ******* that cry for ****,
Wombs that never tire to be filled,
Do not stray across the block,
This field, daily, must be tilled!

Take me a pinch at a time,
Baby, please don't rush,
Feel every grain, every edge,
Tasty, yes, keeps you coming for more.

Whence have you fled,
Taking all of me for granted?
But cometh swiftly my wrath,
Like hell on a terrible high.

Fire is never hot enough,
Water can not drown me,
That mountain is but a spec,
And failure is not that tough.

You go left,
When we turn this way,
And rolling over,
Is not how you play.

Edikaikong, Afang, Ofe Olugbo or Miyan Kuka,
Ila Asepo, Fisherman Soup, White soup or Obe Isapa,
As diverse as the tongues that relish these delicacies,
And rich enough to entice all sorts of tasty fantasies.

By the hands of ignorance,
We waste precious,
Life, given, to be nurtured,
And not permanently fractured.

He came around every Thursday for alms,
This old ***** beggar from the North,
Father would host him under the tree,
He never missed his weekly sadaka;

But father breathed his last on Sunday,
Mother was distraught, besides herself,
Everyone said one good thing or the other,
Plenty tears to last his eighty earthly years;

So he ambles in like he would,
Sits under his usual shade,
Then someone says to him, "Baba yamutu..."
And he jumps up in raw exclamation!

Never seen such genuine show of surprise,
He truly expected the old man to live forever,
Much later, in quiet sorrow, pays condolences,
Picks up his satchel and stumbles into the sunshine.

The day we are born,
And when our job is done,
Between is a grey mix,
Of fix and break; break and fix.

Angrily, I said no,
Because she broke my heart,
Ten years ago,
And I did not want a restart.

On every fourth cycle,
It puts the sickle,
Out to harvest men,
In hundreds and thousands of ten.

Many roses are,
But your petals rare,
Many wingers be,
But not you, my queen bee;

On the threshold of your twenties,
Just a step before the thirties,
I wrap my love, again, around you,
Just as it was, the day I met you.

Happy Birthday, My Love. My own queen, from heaven above.

We say our oil,
They say their curse,
That a time will come,
When the pipes will sing no more.

We find love,
Far and above,
Any smelly circumstances,
Or rotten utterances.

She said she felt inferior,
That the rich and famous guy was not prior,
So she wanted a new birthday suit,
The exact opposite of her bitter truth.

The more, the more,
Constantly, never stopping,
It is what we prayed for,
All day, to keep on raining, raining.

From sun up to sun down,
He plays the community clown,
Wipes off the lady's frown,
This talented man about town.

Weaned on bullets,
Suckled on blood,
AK47's are loving pets,
And snuffing lives is nothing odd.

Destitute from birth,
They grow to embrace death,
With nothing worth living for,
They take terror on a daily tour.

But as you set sail,
May your spirit never fail,
To hear us hail,
Your daring and steadfast tale.

Wailing from across the seas,
But nobody sees,
The relevance of their cries,
Even as it thunders up to the skies.

When love turned the corner,
Into the right partner,
There was a moment,
When magic needed no comment.

The drums of secession,
Beat cold fear across the land,
Visions of peace are in recession,
As the south east threatens to leave the band.

Aye! Aye! The planted seed is anchored,
Joyful tiding from the mouth of babes,
For in nine, will come the bloom,
Heralded by two lines on a strip.

Closer to my heart,
Than my seventh rib,
Where should I start,
Talking about our love, right from the crib?

Movement beneath the sheets,
Giggles, then ***** oohs and aahs!
Grunts pushing powerful thrusts,
A moment...before the crashing ******.

Quite oft' we're haunted,
By the choices we make,
The life we wanted,
Over what's at stake.

Some, I have liked and loved,
Others,  I have loved and had,
But somewhere, in there, all my emotions dissolved,
Leaving me very cold, miserable and sad.

Almost missed penning,

Something to mark the day,

My thoughts roam very far away,

Floating...drifting...floating...drifting.

Among the clouds raining down,
Delivered after a decade's wait,
His mercies are never late,
Oluwaseunfunmi, mentioned without a moment's frown.

Friendly figure hovers around my warm cradle,
Memories of our walks, holding my tiny hand on the safe side of the road,
Occasional chastisements with the cautionary rod,
Moments I felt love was too difficult to handle;

But growing in mature understanding,
Love meant taking hard decisions,
Not pandering to filial emotions,
Daily praying, guarding and guiding;

My dear old man,
I owe it all to you,
Your great insight has proven true,
Thanks for making me, my own man.