I shouldn’t have  
I guess I forcefully moved my things into your heart on parham street
This fool has been celebrating a grubby clean slate
He drank a cocktail before the harvest
After storing his brain safely in the garbage
He asked ‘would you be mine’

I shouldn’t have said I love you first
Now realising that was the pistol to your head
And i jumped the gun twice and over again
This fool stands in awe of his folly
He reads his scribbles of idyllic love poems and ******* dovy quotidians
Every compelled ‘i love you’ will be overturned
My hands over-burned from the blisters
Bitter from the bile from every memory
Though i took my time, I was patiently stupid

I shouldn’t have
Now i’m sat here with this lollipop of regret
Now knowing that every graphic snapshot was because of that same pistol
No wonder why it all seemed strange
I used to gnaw about making you feel like you needed to trust me and love me
I was yet weary of receiving the blame of every kiss, pause and touch
I didn’t realise that the foundation was built on compelled labour
I was to quick to celebrate, but now i know what i should have

A landscape between two
Bridges the distance between
Me and you
And these imperfect minds alike
Aren’t too far away
To hear a perfect lover’s cry
Or a sweet melody in the night

A landscape between two
Cannot tame the ripe waves of ecstasy
Or the light rays up above
Oh yes!
I see the sunken ship
On top the sea
And I see an anchored love
From my landscaped view

A landscape between two
Bridges the distance between
Me and you
And the birds chirp
While the earth turns
The  faithful flute plays
Towards a landscape between two

                                         - Lily Bajo

He put his heart on the poker table
‘he’s all in’ his face grim and unquavering, he thinks he’s able
but the cards are stacked against him
he plays all moves
but the joker beleaguers his fingers
they use his mind as a bullet practice board
wearing their bullet proof vest so they’re well protected
He’d been on a scorching quest for disaster
was given a tepid glass of love in return

They said his heart was a Rubik’s cube in a Swiss bank
so he pulled the funds out took the risk rather than being a *******
He spends his heart on love,
he realises its like a cigarette loaded with regret rather than nicotine  
so he took a cue,
formed his heart back to a Rubik’s cube
and put in a Swiss bank in the maze house

For the man has been changed,
dressing in a mirage and false attire
building a castle in his schizophrenic mind
for so long he guessed it was mist
his mind limboed by their words
'we are architects of the sand filled castle' they scream
they say he uses pity power,
so they tell him his pseudo-castle is bliss

For the man has been changed
the realisation is the ****** in his heart
he was right, their trust is a facade
they say he uses pity power
so they have to stay with him in the hard-times

For a time, I too thought my bed was laid,
unraveled the best wool for this bamboo sheets
all for me to realise that every utterance of love
that came from their lips
was but for them on a pressure cooker; making me the chef
though i took a journey, i started to understand they were never with me
they knock me off my perception stand
my candle light burning without light
though now they do not understand, for when they shall, standing not shall i be
for my heart has taken a bow

For a time, though i have sailed through them endlessly
and became an anaesthetic mind for their sake
for the man has been changed
though they say he uses pity power
this lego victim is the solitude man
and He's back.

even love, a faded meaning
the uneven skill; bludgeoning the compass
a longing, a thirst for fortress in the prodigal past
always seems to swim so shallow

an even meaning when roses die
a shadow walking ground, a skeleton in the earth
leaning on its symbiotic ecstasy;
frail and ephemeral dipped in a sea of ash  

when paradise keel's over in sea
awake in this lucid dream
let loose of the pipe
lest you breath as love

a silent lips for astrologers, even a tombstone for gazers
blood streaming down the crown;
never to grow rose
love is the soil.

In the darkest nights,
this, solitude man tilts the hour glass  
to the boy who built a cave
with the carnage of his sporadic mind

He holds his hands,
through his serene scars
though patiently misunderstood
over him this, solitude man watches
in the darkest nights

But as darkness dawns
to war solitude man must go
as this, solitude boy, tilts the hour glass
just in time, to hold his hands.

                                                   - Ola Bajo

Digs himself a place so deep
In there he finds a place to sleep
with the wealth stashed in his mind,
he builds a jigsaw castle ship

never lonely this solitude man walks;
in the crowd this solitude man is yet alone.

                                 - Ola Bajo

There are the times you believe in magic for a change
Knowing fully well that magic doesn't exist
Knowing that letting go is not a choice or you're left in a snipers range
Knowing that your demons are innate
Knowing that its time to fight yourself with your own fist.

But listen,
There are times where you don't believe in magic for a change
Not knowing fully well that magic does exist
Not knowing that letting go is the only choice
Not knowing that your demons were never within
Not knowing that it is time to fight for yourself

But whatever it is,
Fight like a curse, until you get it right
Fight with the force of your desires
Fight your storm with the sword of insight
Fight till your visions lite.

                                         - Ola Bajo

There is something about the human condition
truths are popular philosophies
hate our realism; love an idealism
while forever living in the hope for an eccentric world,
we forget we are the revelation of tomorrow.
For in the human condition there are no facts, just trends;
wanting to be something we are not,
we became slaves to our autonomy.
What we seek to be is a reflection; a mirror of what others seek to be
in the end the void is never filled.
For about the human condition, there is something,
something ******* in thinking we are woke.

This is to the girls, whose playground heart became roadmaps of battle scars
To the girls whose butterflies were ripped apart by the touch of broken men's palms
The girls who hold the secrets of these withered men's minds in their offshore hearts

This is to the boys, who instead of counting sheeps are counting strokes as the violence spreads to their mothers thighs
To the boys, whose fathers never became men
The boys with black-eyed hearts, borrowed smiles and have become breathing dead; with their hearts wearing the violence like a hoody

This is to the homeless whose wealth is stacked in heaven
To the homeless man or woman, who never dreams
The homeless veterans who became slaves with frostbites in their veins

This is to the minds casting ballots on whether to leave
To the minds, who seem to be endlessly failing at sea
The minds with no shadow to keep them warm at night

                                           Just
                                      S.P.E.A.K

                                                    - Ola Bajo

...the stardust sprinkled into my eyes
left my eyes stranded with hope
my skin still feels the stagnant lack
I need a miracle

the piggy bank of love springs I had was stolen
I called her a best friend,
she cut a piece of my heart and served me a meal
I need a miracle

the clouds look dark, spitting more hope
it leaves me expecting,
do dreams come true?

the stardust sprinkled into my eyes
left my eyes stranded with hope
the desert doesn't rain
I need a miracle

                                         - Ola Bajo