#intervention
1. THE WITHERING
the tree stood—
arms outstretched,
leaves loud in the wind,
but hollow at the belly,
a cathedral of unanswered prayer.
i searched it once,
twice,
a third time with hungered eyes.
nothing.
not a fig.
not a promise.
not even a hint.
and i,
taught to measure grace
by the pound,
felt the curse rise
like a coal in my throat.
should i not speak fire?
should i not say
what the book said?
but the tree—
it only shivered
in the hush
before the rain,
its roots gnawing
at the dark’s arithmetic.
2. RESOLUTION
so
the fig
is plucked.
the fig
is eaten.
i won’t
outchrist
christ,
who cursed
a fig tree
for its figlessness.
i will wait—
not like a saint,
but like the soil:
gritted,
greedy,
working its slow alchemy.
i will dig
beneath the bark’s scripture,
unclench the earth’s fist.
the fire in my mouth
will cool to embers,
banked for colder nights.
3. BEYOND THE CURSE
so—
the fig is ripe
and taken,
the fig is eaten.
but i
will not
curse the quiet branch,
nor chide the soil
for its stutter.
i will not
outcurse
the clock,
its metallic tongue
counting barren hours.
i will prune the brittle twigs,
hands soft as rain
but deliberate as dawn.
i will listen
to the sap’s gossip,
the root’s rebuttal
to my inherited fire.
4. IN THE TIME OF FIGS
in the time of figs,
some trees will bow
under the weight of bees.
others ache
in the drought’s lecture—
roots parsing
the grammar of survival.
the fig is ripe—
it is taken,
it is eaten.
but i
will not
curse the quiet branch,
nor scorn the stem
for its slowness.
i will wait—
through leaf-fall,
through the dry bark’s psalms,
through the long hush
of unbecoming.
i will wait
for the swelling,
for the fig
that comes
when it is time,
or does not.
5. FIRST FRUIT
and then—
as if remembering
how to give,
the tree offered
a single fig.
no trumpet,
no thunder,
no decree etched in gold.
just one fruit,
warm with stolen light,
nestled in green.
i did not pluck it.
i placed my hand beneath,
and it dropped
like a comma
into my palm—
a pause, not a period.
and i wept—
salt pooling where the curse
once burned my throat—
for the soil’s stubborn breath,
for the tree’s mute argument
against my inherited fire.
6. SECOND WITHERING
and when the next fig fell—
not to my palm,
but to the ants’ feast—
i bit my tongue
to keep the old curse
from crawling back.
(even grace
has its winters.)
i knelt,
pressed my ear
to the split bark,
and heard the roots
laughing underground—
a sound like figs fermenting,
like futures
not yet named.
7. EFFLORESCENCE
now, i measure time
in blushed skins,
in the slow sugar
of patience.
i have learned
to read the tree
backwards:
fruit first,
then flower,
then the ghost
of a bud
teaching me
to unlearn
the arithmetic
of scarcity.
the curse is still there—
but it hums
like a hive now,
its venom spun
to honey.
© Lanre Adebayo
May 10
May 10, 2026 at 10:07 PM UTC
comfort comes as comfort will
at a time of its own choosing
having travelled far, or so it seems
the horizon unfolds an oasis
just in time, or perfect timing
choose luck, or predesination.
Feb 24
Feb 24, 2026 at 7:28 AM UTC
A lunar eclipse
slips through
heaven’s curtains,
the pack howls
in symphony,
take what you can
and run.
Searing hail fills the air,
flame-tides ravage
the far horizon,
hellfire cascades
from above.
The house of heritage
caves in,
leave it all behind,
razed to the ground.
A wall of wrath
roaring onward,
unsealing its fury
upon us,
fear rises
with the tide,
wailing sirens
united in chorus.
As the sky breaks open,
time draws its last breath,
and a shattering voice
quakes the world—
Stop.
Feb 13
Feb 13, 2026 at 4:07 PM UTC
I thought about glue
Generally good holding stuffs
The intended ones I mean
Just not the wrong ones
Not your fingers
When you're stuck doing an art project
Then they become bothersome
I thought about adhesions
Side effect to intervention that's meant to fix a problem
As I sat at the dark corner of my room
With a dull aching pain
A promise of waterfall
I knew the glue once fixed me up
I knew the glue now created a scar while scrubbing
I knew the adhesions now needed fixing up
And I knew the
intervention wasn't needed
They just broke me more
And I wish I never tried using glue
Mar 4, 2025
Mar 4, 2025 at 11:28 AM UTC
Tonight I find myself so grateful that things work out this way
Tonight I reflect upon the real power of those who pray
I was so convinced that things were looking quite grim
My trust in God on the other hand was looking a little thin
But God is with us and God does provide
Even when we're in the middle of a very wild ride
Divine Intervention led me to the place where I was
And God will use such things as only God does
And I truly believe in Divine Intercession: the power of prayer
Thank you for taking the time to show how much you care
But God has proved to me one more time
Who is in control. It will all work out just fine.
When the path before you is hard to see
And the air is so thick that you cannot breathe
In the chasm of silence, soft words are spoken
And the embers of life are reawakened
The Spirit that slumbers so deep within
Is released and in final victory over death and sin
Like the sun rises on the wings of dawn
Like the wind in the trees fills you with song
Like the water: freely and gently flowing
Like the flame of a candle: so warmly glowing
Like the mountains reaches to heights untold
Like the oceans: mystery and treasure we hold
Like the lighthouse shines a bright beacon
Like the wand'ring star: we follow to find what we are seekin'
Like the rainbow: a promise of faith, hope, and love
Like the trees: stretching toward the Son up above
We are bearers of the Spirit's great Holy Light
Commissioned to go forth and banish the night
To all the ends of the earth we are sent
To share the good news with loving intent
Nov 22, 2024
Nov 22, 2024 at 11:06 PM UTC
The road to eternal damnation
Constantly being paved with good intention
Wrestlin' with my collection of depression
Trying to conjure up protection against wraths hateful possession
Me, myself and I, the only three at my intervention
I always thought someone might maybe one day step in
Warning me of the direction I'm headin'
Remind me about the cautionary tale of the doomed zeppelin
Or some sorta congratulation confirmation,
A little somethin' to help me keep goin'
...wrong once again...
©2024
May 5, 2024
May 5, 2024 at 2:15 AM UTC
isn't it a pity
we're heading towards the end
there's a war without a winner
and no-one left to mend
an idea that's long been buried
by those who run the show
give peace a chance is over
a dream we'll never know
for the dreamers now are silenced
truth they can't afford
the end days set in motion
resolutions go ignored
isn't it a pity
they hurried us along
made us smart but we're not ready
now we see why that was wrong
they watch and wait and wonder
do they save or let us go
are we worth our own salvation
or do we start again...
all things come to pass
and the day will soon be here
so we smile and make our way
as if we have no fear
isn't it a pity
isn't it a shame
Jan 7, 2024
Jan 7, 2024 at 1:12 PM UTC
how do you get up to nogood
how do you get down to allpain
how do we get over to healing
how do we get over the feeling
you gotta hit rock bottom
boy. you gotta hit rock bottom
they know. and can show the way
it must be pure heaven, this rock bottom
you gotta go through every turn they took
can they really read into your future?
you can read them like a book
crossing all of their burned bridges
and "biden can kiss my ***
when we get to the station
don't forget to get the gas
are we in toughlove?
god i can't get enough love!
i just can't get enough of
the local dialect in toughlove
Nov 2, 2021
Nov 2, 2021 at 9:03 AM UTC
She took another sip of her fine feathered drink
I don't think this is a learned behavior
The apple doesn't fall far from the tree
Blank stares following her body sways
Making mountains out of molehills
I take an attempt to persuade her to address the issue
Only leaves a temporary result to get us off her back
The weight on her back transfers to mine
All eyes on me to intervene again
Though my shell is hard, my inside is not
Mar 1, 2018
Mar 1, 2018 at 7:51 PM UTC
Can I call you?
At 2 am I can only talk for an hour...
Cause at 3 am,
They say it's the demons hour...
And boo I don't wanna turn on you
And go off on you,
Forgive me if I do it to you,
Your not the struggle that I've been through....
So lil baby can I ask you this?
Can I not be a love that your gonna ignore and miss?
Can you not carry the traits of these fuckboys I've been dismissed....
I didn't curve you,
When I probably could've..
I didn't curve you,
Don't make me feel like I should've....
Can you call me ?
Make love to me with your voice,
Sing to me ,
Like Boys ll Men or
Dru Hill,
Back in the 90s?
Can you feel me ?
A chemistry similar like Jada & Will,
but imma need us to curve mfs,
and be ready to ****
Those who hurt us....
Can you be for me ?
Like a baby without its binky?
Can you be the one to cry for me baby?
But man up because I'm the lady?
Can you love me for life?
I'm not trynna rush anything,
I just be thinking of things....
Your love could be the best thing...
Can you be for me?
I don't wanna have anymore games...
Not another chess piece....
Not another missing puzzle piece....
Maybe what I'm trynna say is...
*Darling can you really love me ?*
Sep 29, 2016
Sep 29, 2016 at 1:15 AM UTC
My pretty friend, the definition,
...a Chopin-esque romantic, needing intervention
frantically resilient, a mere honorable mention
...burning for forgiveness with hypertension
Craving your redemption.
In the secret section you mention
...there's tension in your confession
another missed connection
...misled by another's deception
the impression on the connection
...a misconception on another selection
rejection is a whole new obsession
...this seventh dimension perception
the impression is to employ prevention.
Because Attention Attention!!
...need I not mention
there's no landing affections
...just internal tension
my infection is your retention
...misappropriation.
......misapprehension.
May 21, 2015
May 21, 2015 at 10:09 AM UTC