Cakes, flakes and stakes;
Here we are to celebrate;
Pretty, Yes; intelligent, no doubt!
Happy birthday, and here's a big shout!!

I want to make you,
A better version of yourself,
Always, this I want to do,
Only seconds on any shelf.

Scion child of the house,
Gentle, kind and gay,
He makes me smile all day,
With joy impossible to douse.

I have a band,
Tied around my hand,
Smell reminds me of him,
Like a constant dream.

Back to a time,
In the future,
Where we sleep with doors ajar,
And leave our keys, right there, in the car.

Like a lily on a rainy day,
Absolute marvel on display,
She's restless, this is true,
But brightens up, all, the moody blue.

Dark and mysterious,
Petite and precious,
Not met her before,
But she be stuff of folklore.

Where all the boyish men go,
That place of awesome magic,
Where they refuse to grow,
And time doth not tick.

Less mindful of being opinionated,
But defiance is rebellion,
Perfect with young and spirited,
Discouraged by the incorrigibly stubborn.

And when I toss and turn,
Feeling my passion boil and burn,
I want to douse myself in your arms,
Surrender, all, to your alluring charms.

This strong thing,
Mothers labour for it,
Men take the heat,
So craved by every human being.

I couldn't think straight,
Every emotion bore weight,
I just couldn't wait,
Everyday, whistling at her gate.

We come, here, for a reason,
Then in a season,
We leave well behind,
All, the beautiful, and the unkind.

Rolling in the hay,
Bright, with warm laughter,
The picture of the us together,
It was magical, in every way.

Between fiery and fun,
Eyes that make heads turn,
She pretends she hates my guts,
Yet...I colour, all, of her thoughts.

I feel good,  I have luck on my side,
A fresh kind of breeze ruffles the trees,
Outside, there are butterflies, hummingbirds and bees,
And inside, this clear feeling of warmth, borne on a pleasant tide.

Toward the setting sun,
Orange in the distant horizon,
My mind is set on this journey,
Even if I have no money.

I  encourage myself, me alone,
Their prayers are what they are,
And how far I can go on my own,
Is left for those answered prayers and all the will I can muster.

Each time I clamber over a mountain, and see,
The vastness of the green fields in the distance,
I am yet again confronted by a gaping hole that stops my advance,
Perplexed, I scout for bravery, too come carry me, across the black, abysmal sea.

Illuminated, only, by a white line of led,
I toss and turn, on the damp bed,
Because the light people prefer solid darkness,
And outside, all there is, is perfect stillness.

My shadow and I are in great dispute over you,
He says he loves you better than me,
I say I love you better than he,
We both cannot seem to know what to do;

Thus we ask:
He says he loves you more because he will be with you during the night,
I say I will love you forever, and always, when it is bright,
Now, we beg you, put an end to this aching task?

Not on a platter, no; even of gold,
This black box I yearned from days old,
Though rotten dead, and frigid cold,
Power, will come, yes! from where it is sold.

Hate to wake up to disappointment,
Sleep was welcome appointment,
Now reality murders my consciousness,
Finding solace, again, in rusty restlessness.

Because your shoulders do not hang the orange overalls,
Does not canonize you as a saint,
Do not brush me with red paint,
Just because you walk the hallowed walls.

You are a thief,
You go around committing mischief,
You fill women's hearts with unwholesome grief,
You make men's lives short, and painfully brief.

Better it is today,
My life to lay,
For a cause worthy,
Than a cowardly history.

Hard work no be money,
Make you ask the man wey dey push trolley,
Sun, and rain, beat am tire,
Until the day wey him go retire.

*Nigerian pidgin english

When the old die young,
And the young never see the dusk,
Know there is something wrong,
When the living, die, over dried husk.

If I had it on a platter of gold,
And never knew how much it was sold,
Then can I make bold,
My blue voice, in, the common fold?

Never quit fightin',
Always shovin' and strugglin',
Making sure the ends are meetin',
Even when the Missus be buggin'.

Hannah's tearful diatribe,
Swept up to the heavens,
In rivulets of threes, and cascades of sevens,
However ******, by the high priest's jibe;

But Jah's lines are never jammed,
You don't even have to port,
Billions of supplications may have rammed,
But rest assured, you make up his every thought;

By HIS design,
Daily tears may now resign,
Two worlds, all, in one birth,
Fervent prayers doth berth;

Bundles of awesome joy,
Jah gives, double, a reason,
One adorable girl, and an awesome boy,
Two worlds, and a happy season.

I hunger today, now,
To fill the mouths, yes, tomorrow,
This hustle, it is all, that I know,
And no, I will not, never, borrow.

Each day we look to the east,
To that which lights up our planet,
A constant reminder, none the least,
That our dreams will awaken someday, yet.

My mind's made up to succeed,
Although my heart flutters,
Excellence is my daily creed,
I beat it ever so loudly, up, unto the rafters.

At every turn of this hard life,
Just before I round the difficult bend,
I look back at past strife,
And forward to the journey's end.

Success is a long road,
With many stops and frustrations,
Failure creates unwholesome situations,
But a strong heart is a welcome goad.

Nobody smiles at failure,
It is loathed, despised and cursed,
Everybody longs for a future,
Celebrated, envied and embossed.

Roaches, roaches!!
I can stand annoying rats,
But those ****, winged vermins,
I chase with malevolent bats.

She walked in,
With perfect love handles,
And voluptuous chest bundles,
Oh, where have you been?!

Awake, staring into nothingness,
I listen to the terrifying darkness,
With huge eyes, wide open,
Begging...sleep, please, happen.

What has love got to do?
Who needs all the drama,
When the script can be torn up?
Leaving you cold, and miserable, at the bus stop.

Ginseng, I'm gonna be your rocker!
Ginseng, I'm gonna be your lover!
Ginseng, I ain't gonna be a sucker!
Ginseng! Yo! We never go under!

The woman for me,
The mother of our children,
Beautiful like the open sea,
Mysterious beyond what the eyes can see.

Nothing is more powerful,
The force of hope,
The needed push or pull,
Stronger than dope.

So you ****** your way,
All through to the top,
But you could have knelt to pray,
And never suffered a decent drop.

This, and not, that,
Friend, girlfriend,
Fated, that is what,
Intertwined until the very end.

She floated on my consciousness,
Dancing on my hair strands,
Veiled by ***** darkness,
Taunted by ghostly bands.

The tears that rolled,
Down my face,
Gathered hot pace,
Because, my love, had been sold.

Daily, the conductor bellows,
"Enter with your change!"
Echoing the opinion of his vocal fellows,
Then disembarks passengers outside the range.

The end begins,
When I take up my cross,
Redeeming my previous loss,
The beginning of better endings.