A list of my problems
Sung like an anthem
Your the least to my miseries
Like the fine black berries or red cherries
Succulent and mouth watering
The tales to my secret survivor
Your kind and good behavior
Outnumbered your hypocrisy
By all my strengths still would stretch
All you wanted was to fetch, and leave me for clutches
Those crocodile tears are the least, least to my problems
It’s too late for the reconciliation
Just like you left a ‘fool ‘for humiliation
I was the least to your excuses and my downfalls,
Overshadowing the good deeds, take heed
You're the least to my rise and anxieties, the least to my problems

I wondered
What if the blame fell on me
stretched on my hammock
Feeling the despair of the fading dawn
and the striking of the sun rays on thy sagging skin
a sky encaged by darkness

Wheeling the blame as I mourn
the loss of my heart was a blow
reminiscing on the nights you moaned
the feeling of love and ecstasy reborn

A potent heart
Confined to her social being
Glittering it's tales
Which laid her oddity
Blue iced eyes
Irresistible

As Days screamed into years
a once exuberant face dimmed into darkness
Nostalgia of those withering days
ailing into a feeble poet

Penitentiary filled with blacks
Crooks on cracks
Pills,needles taped with ducts
Life on smack
Blood shot eyes running nose and popping eyes
Cracking lips with oozing blood and saliva
The levitation is concise
But my terms long to cease

A fallacious adrenaline running through my veins
Dragging my pale heart to fuse
Forever taunting my sanity
Enticing into sober of things

The fade of my chastity
Caged my conscience from creativity
Confined in a penitentiary ****** ward
Under guard blabbering alien words
Drugged from hostility for my feeble mobility

Beyond the walls laid hope
Only if my term cease or hop
And my savager enveloped and mailed away
Degenerating the ethical morals
A stitch in time could have saved nine

A man seated on a chair sees the furthest than a boy on a tree

Dear son

you are so eager to come to planet earth
but this is too dangerous for you to survive
lots of war ,deaths ,hatred and blood shedding
all because of few pounds

dear son

I know you will fight to come to the planet
but I wish I could stop you young one
from coming to the cruelity of nature
but you have to cope with it for sure

dear son

I know you are too young to understand
bur the cruelity of life you have to withstand
fight like a worrior and be  honoured like a soldier
I have seen many but courage is the only key to success

dear son

my clothes are in pieces
they talk for themselves
the tales I have been through
the road has been coarse and tough
but be strong like a soldier

dear son

the seasons have changed      
without anything we managed
seasons comouflaged

dear son
my body is less immune
I lost my body parts as a result  of local brew
I know you are a toddler its hard to understand
you will learn by your own mistakes
and understand of what am talking about son

I can smell the rains
dark skys can tell too
to cease and ease the pain
and count on the coming gains

the swaying of the trees could be seen
cool tones of droplets settled on my skin
seated under my usual tree

I hear the chirping of birds next to their nest
I noticed the dancing of the calves and lambs
my mind on the coming treasure
to end these echos of doom

echos of doom

worst of a season
dry streams dusty field and clear skys
will be a thing of the past
should I judge a book by its cover?/

I countlessly count on the rewards of rain
the seasons will be as usual as my conscience tell me
sooner than later the echos of doom appear again
no rains,no gain but more pain
I shouldn't  have counted my chicks before being hatched

echos of doom are at it again

It is sad
a heart of a lad
dug into trenches and furrows
a heart on the tilt
to drain all the silt in the pacific ocean
to end the future mensch
to be long forgotten of their existence
rich in hidden treasures

It is sad
among the best lad
bestowed arrow and bow not
the young of a generation cut off
weak and feeble to their feet
no tutor to guide the "flock"
a promising zealous
generation

Who's  the saviour
Of the weak and feeble generation?*
nobody knows,only time will tell