maybe someday you'll meet a man
who will never blame you
but at the same time you may find out
how good it is to develop a character further
if development is going in the right direction

honesty must be cruel
that's how it moves on

I am wild
and lazy
and needless
sometimes I win
and sometimes I lose

but the main core is clear
nothing is a competition

so be tough
and do not cry

You drive through the woods; you start to feel lost,
your car and your mind have blown their exhaust.
With nothing but time to drown in remorse,
you wonder if you are on the right course.
Look back where you came and up to the sky,
clouded stars can’t shine although they may try.
You look back on the path, covered in mist,
chances you had that you feel you’ve missed.
Accept where you are, forge a path instead,
through small slow steps will you know what’s ahead.
If your mind retreats back towards the start,
listen instead to the beat of your heart.
Plant your feet in the soil, eyes closed and breathe.
Regret is what lets you know that you’re free.

I’ve been searching for my life’s purpose for a couple of years and let me tell you this.
The only thing that I’ve discovered is that:
“There are no lights, music and fireworks for us, buddy, in the land of self-development”

No lofty aspirations to be realized.
Nor shiny kick *** careers to be given attention to.
NO SUCH LUCK.

The only thing that exists is kind of pessimistic albeit genuine.
As far as I know, it is your only chance of doing anything.
“Only the principle of minimum effort rules the underworld that’s lodged deep within our heads”
(The voice said)

Again the voice spoke. (This time with a much more demanding tone)
“Do the least you can do and do it well”
“For there is no place for underachievers like you here in OUR domain”

To all the boys who have ruthlessly clinged themselves upon me, forcing me to make room for them, demanding me to fit into their dreams of me, expecting me to perform, wanting me to take them in.

To all the boys who have made me change for them, rushed my development, taking me out into the wilderness, so far away that I no longer could find my way back home.

To all of you who have shaped me into who I am today, leaving me less naive, so careful of others' feelings after learning to put theirs ahead of my own.

To all of you who have left me shining from all the love, more in touch with my feelings and my gut, a bit harder but beautiful in the adore from your eyes.

To all of you - I am done. I have nothing left to say to you, I've already thought it all. But to myself - I made it home. Bruised, scared and scarred but I made it. And even though it isn't what it used to be, I'm still back and the next time I go, it will be when I want to go and not because of a stupid boy.

It’s time to let go
So why can’t I do so?
You’re bad for me
So why do I want you so badly..
Time and time again
You’re in my head
Why can’t I accept the fact that you’re dead
Long gone wasted time
What I would do to go back and rewind
All the times I ******* up your life.

Themes from above
Inline with the divine
A sea of pure information
We are but processes through time
Which is relevant
for stages of development

Clear through the chaos
Write down a desire
Words bind and magick works
Form your own sigil
Things will happen to inspire

The society rejected them.
They were ejected from their homes.

Disjointed hands.
Broken legs.
Pitiful faces.
Mournful silence ...
They cried and felt like crying again.
They cried again.
They yawned and felt like yawning again.
They yawned again.

They are the homeless children you are seeing here and there.
They are the hopeless old men and women you are seeing in the mornings and in the evenings.

No one cares to give them a chance to emerge on the surfaces of the earth and win more wins.

They are those beggars and street-boys.
They were long time ago mercilessly molested by the tryrans and their allies.

Today and tomorrow,
And the days, and the years, after tomorrow:
Let them find some places to rest.
Give them a place in your heart to find solace.

They have no sugar.
And they don't seem to have tasted its sweetness.

To drink tea,
They use a handful of their tears.
In lieu of a comb,
They use twigs.

They have no perfumed clothes.
Theirs are torn shirts and hats fumed by the vapour of a cooking ***.

To watch a movie,
They use a mirror.
Through it,
They see nothing than their faces.
They say mirror is their television.

The poignancy of poesy shaped their potentials.
Under the influence of the Poet, a plume spoke:

'I dream of a society where the less privileged ones will enjoy freedom and financial independence.'

With the above in mind, the less privileged ones would be considered as an integral part of the world.

They are capable yet they can do zellions of amazing things.
Give them chances to thrive.

Their yesterdays saw them famished.
They were once hopeless.
God blessed them.
Smiles of courage and hope illuminated their faces.
They were once neglected as well as segregated.
They need to be encouraged and supported.

On their education enough money should be invested.
To enable them learn skills and acquire sound knowledge needed for self-development and progress across the globe.

Adamu Danjuma

You’ve taken my soul,
You’ve taken my heart,
And I don’t know how to get out of this hole.

I can’t be here with you, tied to this guilt, still I lay here pierced on the hilt.

This is my punishment, this is my pay for treating you like **** and cheating my way...through life as I lead you, lead you astray.

I’ll focus my energy on stress and this pain, so that I can try not to hurt you, hurt you again.

I spend my days, wishing I could go back, back to the start. I focus on art, to soothe every ache. But really there’s this guilty devil on my back, I’m praying just for the sake.

You’ve taken my soul,
You’ve taken my heart,
And I don’t know how to get out of this hole.

4 years. We did it.

4 years. I did it.

13 years. I am not what they said I was.

Am I just a number?
What am I worth,
Is my value equal to my impact,
Or am I suffering diminishing returns?

Am I just a name?
How am I defined?
Am I a man of means,
Or the poorest you’ll see?

Am I just a resource?
What am I to you?
Do I hold any meaning to you,
Or am I just useful?

Am I just a moment?
How will you remember me?
Will I be thought of fondly,
Or will I just fade into the void of the forgotten past?

Am I really alive?
How do I measure my existence?
Am I truly living,
Or am I merely surviving?