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#enmity
For seven months I drank my tea at the window and allowed the sun to cast its rays over my resolution. I gazed at the space between but never directly into my neighbours house for I knew the indifference that awaited me in her window of enmity. During the seventh month my love swelled and pooled at my fingertips, restless with those un-penned words of indignation, And so I gazed into her window. Bleeding from my freshest wound, just rage unfurled into bitter poems, reruns of us, of when you offered the belly of my dignity to feed your enemies, revealed a vengeance owed to me, not of retribution but of justice. During the eighth month I wrestled love and grief, rage and memory, to save you, to save you from the recklessness my pain threatened to uncage. I allowed the waves of your betrayal to break over me and pull me back into the sea of childlike grace within myself. I did not emerge cleansed, pure, or resolved. Victorious over my animal lust for vengeance, yet unsatiated in surrendering my desire to deliver you to the same gallows where you made a pariah of me. And conflicted with answerless questions. Is vengeance the natural harbinger of karma and therefore my gentleness; justice interrupted? Is my enduring love my weakness or my courage? .
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Nov 14, 2024
Nov 14, 2024 at 2:49 AM UTC
Window of Enmity
Bamboo sticks will never bend. Bamboo sticks will never break. Bending down is a moringer stick. Breaking down is for dry moringer. The book should be judged by its contents. The heart will never be defined by its face. Open the roof and see inside. And open the door to see the house. Read the contents of the book before going on. Read the heart, then accept the face's smile. Find the building before opening its roof. Knock at the door before opening the house. Why will the judge just judge the book by its cover? Learn it before attacking. Well, reason before rumour. Wash your mouth and chew the words. Attacking before learning is ignorance. Rumour before reasoning is illiteracy. Remember, your mouth is odorous. Wash it again and again and again.
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Apr 18, 2024
Apr 18, 2024 at 4:03 PM UTC
Bamboo
If, I were Indian I would be A. P. J. AbdulKalam descendant son           And, to  be           Gandhi's legatee To marry a young Nigerian senorita, to give birth a pretty And beautiful baby To copy all I imitated From my fore fathers To lead Nigeria and, to revolutionize the nation To grow more than Russia and to be Like Saudi Arabia
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Jul 14, 2020
Jul 14, 2020 at 6:06 PM UTC
Corrupted Mother
Why o why, must you hate so endearingly? Must you find reasons to hate, do you not find that futile? Why is that that we must hate, when our time to love is finite. Why mustn't we love, even when in hate knowing, it is love amidst the loathing.
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Jun 19, 2018
Jun 19, 2018 at 3:29 AM UTC
Plea of the Heart
Attitudes, can I change theirs? Yes, they told I ripped their souls with words Did I change? Not yet, they are still criminals They rob people on their roads They **** for wealth, properties What should I do? Report? That would be so polite of you So legal and peaceful Will I get immediate response Sure, within two or three Two or three what? Years, they said I might do it myself, next time I said Then you’re among them I think, correction, I believe They are among them too Yeah, could be Are you? No, no. I like justice against crimes But, it’s just crime
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Sep 3, 2017
Sep 3, 2017 at 7:47 AM UTC
It's Just Crime
I once wished every bad to come your way, after those lies and untruths you said about me. Then I learned that the sky's deaf for bad prayers, and after all these years, I think about forgiveness. I thought you deserved to sink into the deepest hell for your betrayal; your heart alone was one sickly well. Yet as I looked at these tired wrinkled hands, I knew, this hatred wouldn't last if I had my trust renewed. How the pain repeatedly told me to avenge you, after one and another shame you put me through. But my son’s laughter turned this thought to me; “Will this bitter enmity become my sole legacy?” I may not be ready to invite you for a tea, or to drive you to your daughter's wedding. I'd rather say, I don't hate you as much as I did, so don't be a stranger the next time we meet. I wish you well with whatever good you do. With a lighter heart, my life will be fine too.
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Apr 4, 2017
Apr 4, 2017 at 3:10 AM UTC
A Letter to An Old Friend
Once upon a time, a woman was picking up firewood. She came upon a poisonous snake frozen in the snow. She took the snake home and nursed it back to health. One day the snake bit her on the cheek. As she lay dying, she asked the snake, "Why have you done this to me?" And the snake answered, "Look, ***** you knew I was a snake."
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May 1, 2016
May 1, 2016 at 2:40 PM UTC
The Woman and the Viper (A fable by Aesop, via "Natural Born Killers")
the world is our enmityville don't bother trying to catch that bus, the driver won't stop for you. hissing telephone wires noisy tea kettles the lonely ****** you hear through your wall. people bringing you down people getting the best of you funny how saints are born once they've run out of sins. this is enmityville where neither life nor death seems appealing.
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May 14, 2014
May 14, 2014 at 9:55 AM UTC
enmityville