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Childhood notions transmigrate,
as seconds increases time's height.
The manly instincts begin to prevail,
as I spread my wings toward Adulthood.

The man I want to be is a man who conquers defeat.
Beaten but not broken,
defeated but not limited.
Rising above the dreary shadows will serve as light for all who come behind.

The man I want to be is a relentless dreamer,
whose mental eyes envision spring from summer.
The man I want to be is an accurate planner,
Whose calculations provide food in famine.

The man I want to be is an epitome of discipline
Who rises up every morning to derive a schedule for the day.
The man I want to be is a workaholic
Who works tirelessly till evening and drive home to the hands of firm embrace.

The man I want to be is a man of wealth
Whose worth is not measured by the money he possesses but his contribution to humanity.
The man I want to be is a man of value whose judgement cannot be impaired by money.

The man I want to be is a strong man
whose strength is not in the size of his arms but the elasticity of his ideas.
The man I want to be is a strong man who hides a million feeling under a smile.

The man I want to be is a just man
who respects every man's opinion with equity regardless of religion and ethnicity.
The man I want to be is a tough man whose conviction will not be eroded by people's opinion.

The man I want to be is a father to the fatherless and a defense to the voiceless,
whose ears will always be opened to the pleas of the deprived.

The man I want to be is a man of varlour
Who shapens his life and the lives of those around him on his knees.



The man I want to be is you Dad
Dedicated to the loving memories of my beloved father Late Pastor Ejiro Sajini.
 Apr 2019 Left Foot Poet
Medusa
Tomb
 Apr 2019 Left Foot Poet
Medusa
If we wait too long we have only
Tomb thoughts to meet up to
&
I
Got nothing to say to you
On the other side

I wanna say it & learn it
On this side
Of the curtain
Please talk
I have little thought for these days
As the future evaporates
And the past grows fat and vivid
I amuse myself with games of flashback
Faces and places flickering
Across an empty mind
Dragging their stories behind them
Dead memories metamorphosing
Into living visceral dreams
Where the flowers of love and loss
Are intertwined so closely
That with the passing of time
They each rob the other
Of some pain and glory
As reality gives way
To a realisation of truth

                                      By Phil Roberts
And I suppose these are hardly poetry
More mad man ramblings
With no rhyme or reason
Asked who inspires me
I could’ve said Bukowski, Poe, or even Dickens I suppose
Yet, I listed the Jamadhi’s and Nat Lipstadt
All the way to the Edmund Black’s
Even the ever infamous DelleFemine
Who I usually disagree with
Yet, they are true poets
Who’s words demand to be read
How I aspire to stand amongst you
Tall and brave
For you are the poets of my world
And I hope you’ll be immortalized
Sitting godly with words filling all the spaces inbetween
There are so many more I could’ve listed and I hope those too shall live on forever
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