Money answereth all things
Bible might be wrong
About this --
I was there when Death
Snatched  a rich man's breathe
Then She walked away
All smiles
without taking a Dime

Four years ago
I mistakenly picked up poetry
in the gym
At first I did not even notice
but When I did
I feel in love
I never knew words could be
So perfect and loaded
I was in love--
I read and I write and I
Love every minute of it
Like every good relationship
It got better with time--
I got better with time
I learned values that spilled
Over to all aspects of my life.
I learned my feelings are my feeling
And they can be raw material to
Make good art.
I learned Good end product requires time, sacrifices and sometimes
ungodly amount of effort
I learned about patience and
how impatience is not a virtue

Like every good story, there is always an end.
It's been over a year since I have written anything
Now I can barely relate to any poem
And I probably can't poetically string two sentences together to save my life

The love has faded but the lessons still keep me going.

I am playing
A game,
One I hate to lose
But I know how it ends--
No one ever win

A joke,
One I'd love to tell
But I know how it ends--
No one ever laugh

A song ,
One I'd love to part
I know how it ends--
No one ever listen

An antique,
One I'd like to show off
But I know how it ends
Nothing last forever

A stranger,
Naked on my bed--
Come to think of it
She is my wife

What could I have done to
deserve this?
He walked into my class a god
My father with love in his eyes
and burning anger

What could I have done to
deserve this?
He beckoned to the tired looking
Mathematics teacher to stop--
It struck me hard like thunder
A resounding knock on my head

What could I have done to
deserve this?
Thwack! Thwack!
In my fifty third year I can feel my head
still burning

What could I have done to
deserve this?
My father has zero tolerance for
Indiscretion
This, he told me repeatedly --
But not once with his mouth

I asked God if I could change
my major
and she said yes but
wait till after five years
I asked her if it is okay to
fornicate with Cynthia
and she said sure but
wait till her mom travels
I asked if I should wear ******
or not to wear ******
and she said **** dude!
She calls me that sometimes
She said you can do just anything you want
Thanks God I said
So you are saying I can put this parody poem on internet
Yes yes yes God said
Only God knows what you are going to do next
but when you are said and done
I am so sending you to hell

Life took the life of a poet
Decades before death came--

Life took the life of a poet
A king at night
A Slave at dawn
Hours before birds
He wakes
Trading his time
To earn a dime

Life took the life of a poet
Asked about his poem and pet
Life got serious he laments

Life took the life of a poet
Though we barely see him live
We all attended his funeral
Many times before death came

Midnight, Ninth of November
God-knows-who was awake
Idle, naive and posted
Age is not maturity
Age is just a number

I stare through my Window
I saw the moon, my niece  
Myself five years before tonight;
Behind them stood my father
In a stupor of grief and grey--

Age is nothing like a number
With age comes wisdom
And with age comes age

My mind, a white canvas
Empty pages
Voids I can not fill

An empty room
Quiet everywhere
A deafening silence

A collapsed mansion
Broken glass around my feet
I can barely breathe

Boring Metaphors
Not even a  rhyme
It get worse with time

A king in coma
How long before he wakes up
Days, Decades or Never?

Tomorrow is yet another day

How many prayer must be answered
Before an atheist believes,
Believe
There is a God

How many mysteries must be solved
Before our priest concurs,
Concur
There is no God

How many heart must be broken
Before Cupid accepts,
Accept
There is no love

How many poem must be written
Before She realizes,
Realize
I am in love with her

If we die tonight
Who will tell Hellopoetry
About our demise

An empty day
Pure thought
Broken heart
Slow music (the rhythms)
Silent night
Cool breeze
A little frustration
What else do I need to write a good poem?

More money more problem
When I did the sum
All is vanity
Yet I will **** for some

When I was a watermelon
I thought I was pink
Now I see watermelons;
They are all green --
Maybe I am not as pink as i think
Maybe I will never be

You might have heard a ******* claim
A snake swallowed thirty six million
Thirty six million government money from a government office
Please believe it
Please don't believe it
Its a ******* claim
A poetic one (at best)
A snake in a government house
What an allegory!
A snooty sneaky snake (Python, given the amount) snared money
What an alliteration!
It excreted the brief case
What a genius!
The story checks out after investigation
What an ending!
Nigeria
What a joke!

Why take my bell
To give me a crown?
Why take my cot
To give me a Jungle,
A Lioness,
Three Cubs
Appetite for blood
But no shoulder
To shoulder the responsibilities?

She cooks me the best
Continental dishes
Do I like the taste?
I do not know
No tastebud!

I am not human,I am a sexdoll
She loves me
To the moon and back
Can I feel the tingle?
I do not know
My heart knows no beat

Then She stabs me in the back
Can I feel the pain?
I do not know
No spinal Cord!

But She is a man not a robot
Like a mad man dying alone
in the snow,she slowly withers--
Like a maize plant in dry season

I took an apple and my eyes opens
I saw the Truth for what it is
The truth of everything
But the truth is not completely true

I saw the books and I read
Yet like a warrior craving battle
I yearn to learn more
I learned lot
But with everything I know
I know I know nothing

And the effect lives on
long after I spat the seed

Being poor takes time
Years before you were born
Decades after

Being poor is hereditary
Dad ignores your call all day
He knows you are calling for your school fees

Then, being poor becomes analytical
You keep brainstorming in church
Is it a good idea if I pay this offering

Being poor can be romantic
You share a plate of rice with your ******* a date
You dare not order for two

Being poor is a war
An endless battle between your stomach and your pride
Stomach always win

Being poor is observant
You stare at the green Nike footwear in the store everyday
With all lust and faintest of hope

Being poor is emotional
You get mad at complete strangers for not giving you a free ride under the scorching sun

Being poor demand self control
You fight the urge to buy new shoes
Who want to walk miles to work
Till next paycheck?

Being poor is knowing how much everything cost
Being poor is no child's play

Slender as a needle
Bright as hunter's headlamp
Okpeke next door makes
My heart skip a beat

Like yellow rose lures the bee
The sound of her voice compels me
The market square gong beckons
Who dare ignore the king?

When the moonlight play is over
I will remember not to ever forget--
All that glitters is not gold

A lioness gave birth to a cat
Wonders shall never end
A white one

If your husband is a lion
why would you cheat with a Cat?
A white one

In God we trust
Maybe He trusted us
A little too much

Architect of all
His existence, a ravel mystery
Each man to his own opinion of him
We must be right, others are left
Non existent, tolerant
Loving or simply non chalant
Who cares?
For my belief I can not die
It might just be another lie

Like a camel
Quietly chasing after the dangling carrot,
We embark on a long journey
endless yet promising

Like a hungry squirrel
Supercharged with adrenaline
We fight tooth and nail to get nuts
Out of air-tight glass bottle

Like a scientist
Who doesnt know when to stop
We jumped out of frying pan into fire
Cliché?

What truly break our heart, if not hope?

Read this poem three times
Lets see if you can notice
My favorite word (not a lie) is
A two sharp edged sword
Piercing through your mind,
Inflicting pleasure and pain
As you are trying hard to hold on
To the little thrill the metaphor
is giving you.
Just read the poem one more time.

An eclipse?
White light falls on the flag
But the shadow covers the land
Triumphant songs of the hungry
Bird become sour
There is little we can do

Inconsistent?
Green(faded)
White, just a glimpse of another green.
There is nothing we can do
As we hold on tightly to some hope--
The little one the flag can afford us.

He is not my boo
Except he is  being Naive
He keeps nothing up his sleeve
Not to mention his ugly tattoo

To new ideas,he rarely submit
Like there is nothing in his head
But he is extremely good in bed
To that, I must admit

Ink is my blood
Pen, my body
Notepad is my cross--
My head is still my head
My girl, my number one
And my favorite food remains pounded yam

I wrote her a poem
She won't like it
I tore it--
Its out of whack

I did her portrait with ink
She won't like it
I squeezed it--
Its not her skin color, its black

I plucked her some flower
She won't like it
I dropped it--
Its not rose, its lilac

I made her a pendant
She won't like it
I broke it--
Its not gold, its brass plaque

I'm at her door with no gift
She won't like it
But I love her
To the moon and back

An unusual creation of mine,
will it be good enough?
imaginative, yet a piece of my heart.
will it be good be enough?
Short and concise,
will it be good enough?
stanza after stanza, my head i put to rest.
will it be good enough?
whatever it is about,
will it be good enough?
Deity, blue sky,love ,money
will it be good enough?
Effortlessly,my eyes closed, buttock sat, pen wrote.
Regardless, a poem it will be called
My Poem- First of its kind.

Have you ever gone surfing with someone that makes your Heart beat
fast-slow-fast at the same time?
High and free as the wind,
The refreshin' cold one caressing your wet skin.

Hand in hand on one board--
Two hearts slowly melting into one
As they ride unbroken wild waves
To an unknown destination.

Somewhere in the middle of the blue sea,
The last unicorn left.
She left you with half of her heart
A heart barely strong enough to beat

Flowing along with the voice of the ocean
A loud voice whispering no one,
No one can survive here,
Not Alone, Not ever
Not without a pen and a notepad.

Counting down on days with the grieve of
An innocent introvert priest on death row
Wonderin' why I reaped what I didn't sow.
Counting from ten straight down to one
But zero never come..

Night rolled days,
Days into months,
Months into years.

Hopes fades away leaving sweet nothing
Nothing but pleasant memories,
Memories soiled with solemn sounds
Like the the sound of two sorrowful flutes
Singing nothing but nothing last forever
Nothing ever did
Nothing.