#ojex
it’s not that the eyes can’t see at times
it’s just the brain that can’t read –
the pain, dip as cells in our body; smeared on smiles
it’s just that our brains can’t read
beautiful things have scars too
that you are yet to see them don't mean they have not
beautiful people feel pain too –
it’s just so well-hidden that eyes always hit a blindspot
and after it’s happened to another Dante
we all gather to cry, mourn on crumbled mountains
But of what good is cry to a soul that aches no more?
of what use is remorse to a heart that beats no more?
Apr 23, 2020
Apr 23, 2020 at 10:11 PM UTC
Tell it to the mountains
tell it out loud that the world might hear
Wax up the steep and rugged hills, journey the valleys and fountains
tell them! oh tell them now that they are near
‘that there lived the casted stones
Let the world hear of their silent voices
‘though may come as echoes
Yet, in peasantry they live and make such loud noises
The worthless pearls have found their worth
they sought for noesis and were answered without delay
Tell it out loud for
the son and daughters of lay men are now of great names
Tell their success story
Tell them it’s not all irony.
©Emmiasky Ojex
Jan 30, 2019
Jan 30, 2019 at 9:13 AM UTC
THE STORY IN MY HEAD (The Man Sitting In Your Front)
He’s not a human being – No, he is less of that
He might’ve been the one through whose ***** I permeated into my mother’s ******
But would you believe me if I told you that he deflowered his product?
And tags it a righteous conduct
To take a bite of the material to know it’s worth
And to be the first person to know what’s what and what’s not
That man sitting in front of you was the one who’s made me a shame
Since Mum caught him on me the second time, life’s never remained the same
I can’t even call my natal vehicle “Mom”
She’d say “I am not the mother of a *****
I cannot give birth to a lady
Who’s only dream is to give birth as a baby
But what am I to do when that man sitting in front of you caused all these?
I can’t even tell you the pain I feel when someone calls me by his last name
I have to hold it in each time, in school I have to be called upon by the teacher with that name while being sane
But to whom am I to explain all these?
That the man you call my Father,
has committed ******
towards myself and my mother,
he’s sexed his first daughter
in an attempt to be the first buyer.
©Emmiasky Ojex
Dec 3, 2018
Dec 3, 2018 at 9:22 AM UTC
Do you see us when we cry?
When we try to hide our faces in the sand?
have you ever thought it through,
That these people might be hurt too
Do we seem like we do not have pain receptors in us?
Nay, we are born out of bone and blood
We also feel the same pain you do
Only that the would sees us as weak and your strong when we show it
Do we seem like goats
We do not need to be told
“You are a man, be one”
Will you tell these words to my boy when I am gone?
Of course, I am a boy!
Is that a curse?
Can I not feel hurt as well?
Or will you only notice my tears when I drown in the well
Please look into my eyes and tell me
It’s okay to be a hurt boy.
From a friend that cares,
©Emmiasky Ojex
Nov 2, 2018
Nov 2, 2018 at 10:58 AM UTC
Sweet architect!
I hope you are listening to the clamors in my head
I hope you see the pain I feel in my chest
I hope you see that I really am trying my best
Sweet architect!
I hope you’re seeing the tears my eyes harbor
I hope you realize that my heart sobs
I hope you see me in my origin as someone with naught
Sweet architect!
I hope you see my soul is a mess
I hope you see me try again and fall back on earth
I hope you see my laid back at night trying to reach the heavens for help
Sweet architect!
I hope you see me wishing I could change
Become a better person in this age
I hope you see that I have been damaged
Sweet architect!
I hope you see the need I need
I hope you see as I fall on my knees
That I need a whole new knead
Sweet architect!
I hope you know that I know that you’re the only one who can
Help me with all of earth’s troubling time
And let me live the life I deserve
Sweet architect!
This is not my cry to you but a plea
Like a poor child to a rich King
I reach out to you for a meal!
Sweet architect!
We both know these chains are not mine
But I got them while I was trying to make it in life
Please help me break loose and survive
Sweet architect!
I know that you are all where
At days when you are needed
You’re always near
Sweet architect!
I now plead with you to come; save me and my mates
From this trouble we have to eat on our dining plates
And move us from where we are to our original place!
From a friend that cares,
©Emmiasky Ojex
Oct 15, 2018
Oct 15, 2018 at 10:27 AM UTC
IMAGINE
Imagine a world for no and everyone
Where we all are here to be as one and to save the world
Where we have no differences at heart despite the differences at hand
and our nations can all relate with one happy and unified mind
Imagine a place like home that is not your or my own
Where we could shelter as many people it could condone
a home with fights and get back togethers
Where nothing is left in our hearts to keep that might lead to someone’s death at night
Imagine a dreamland, not this wander-land we think is a wonderland
Where the only thing we seek is profit over feelings
Money over family and corruption over redemption
But such a land that is rich in the manna we have in our hands and give out to those who lack and never had
Imagine a world where the world knows and does right
And we could all end these meaningless fights
That has taken so many lives
Till we were so lost fighting that we forgot to take care of our dying brothers while they were alive
Imagine a world where we could reach to the next person’s soul
Let him or her know
I am here and all will be well
And we are not so selfish that we always want to neglect them
Imagine and keep doing so
Let us plant in the hearts of our neighbors what we’d all like to sow
For what is worth doing is better done well
And we can all have for each and every one of us, a living watered-well
I know that you may think this is unachievable
But what is not achievable is what we cannot imagine
For the power for us to become one is locked in
And we just all need to tap in, knock on the door and see what beauty every one of us has within.
You are not black and I am not white
We didn’t come here to be, by colors recognized
We came here to show that we can care
And that is why we all are here.
From a friend that cares,
The boy
©Emmiasky Ojex
Oct 4, 2018
Oct 4, 2018 at 6:56 AM UTC
THE STORY IN MY HEAD
(Sounds Of Silence)
Would I have had it any better in life?
Why would it be me?
Why would he hurt me?
He is my Father
Why would he get closer to me?
Why would he unbutton me and tell me not to shout?
and why did I not?
Why did I not tell Mom?
That her husband, my father is not the man he was once
Now, he craves for me, his product,
That he didn't do it just once
but more times that I have even lost count
I am hurt but can only speak to myself
For one word out, is hell
I am fearful not to speak, for he said
DO NOT DARE SAY ANYTHING, or you are gone {dead}
Mom, I am sorry but I each time you inquire,
"Are you feeling fine, Glory?"
I can only say "Yes Ma," a deceiving story;
I can only smile at you
For the man in front
Is not a man
but a beast who feasts
on his own kids.
I fear for my own death to not come at this young age
Perhaps, I can tell only myself this tale
Till when he is of old
and the story can then be told.
Sep 18, 2018
Sep 18, 2018 at 5:54 AM UTC