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A way I swamp all this year's
In the mud clean like carcass
Worried and excited before my me,
On all lands above the creek bed shanties
Plank as wood Garri as food to throat.

You can't historicise my joy to poverty,
We were kin and clan along the plan
Mating moods out of no food and stool,
To sun before the rain illuminate,
My gainful life that light up a great sea.

Pointed toward good tide beside my wrong
All my loves neglected my riches for gold
For the life that makes God forbid it roles
Cut me off this hotter than the sun's fate
No money no honey,then love is fake,
I will pave another life for my sake or
Live to spit this sweet dreams to all.
The peon talks about poverty
I wonder to world with her board
To calve out songs that smell vile
She would bite my ears as a cord
But the love was dead as death is alter
My love can't be sold for real, she knew
Never loved me never never and ever
Living inside the white garment to ******
She pretends to admire her desire

Her heart flew in the dew with few crook.
Cup in her scent of my handsome look
Lover boy glower son of one woman
Love me when am down and drown
Not when I fly and high cloud in the sky
Call me name to tame my sway baby
Sonnet For kunle
Don't morn your thirst, let water morn
If you worry your head no sleep will bed
Sought not after the truth it is scarce,
Too precious than precious stones and girl
Don't worry your head let it worry you
There is mole in every top deceitful facts
You are gunning the evil that will gun you,
Check it and don't fight the heavy weight.

Corrupt eruption is a birth right and will
To favor the God's will that lie still on it
Building gate of wealth like anthills
The world you can't buy nor spy on
Let it be what it wants to be with it deeds
Leave it in to reap it on secret and merit.
Don't worry tomorrow, tomorrow won't
Want to tell you tomorrow and more days.

Not on the platter, meals and penny
Wine, word, women, weeds and wardrobe
Let your worries query it diaries,
Memories weakens the joy for good
Today let your belly gaggle with wines
Women are the maker of merry and sin
Don't worry your lofty head I cry.
Merry Christmas
Akintola kunle Jul 2021
Not a few skies flock around his facade;
He painted them all, cultured like grain
For his will,will wander for more shade
Making the lads to vent all his brain,
Humidity coiled him to a real uncle.

Before the wile, a valor but above the way,
Conspicuous as a dream blub the dreamer;
A joy from birth with fifty gills to sway,
Wealth and bump along the cud greener,
Now wealth can pump like the old lady
Molding his name to reckon with names,
SEYLEK wants to dance like a brand new bride.

Words would throb in to many ears
And stretch like blubbering fire on the beat
Jebba shall echo to mount upon his dears,
Simpson will protrudes a mountain treat,
Tapa’s boat shall stream in chorus of vessel
In their milieu, they plunge to wrestle .

O n that day quick a breathe for yours heel
L  et cars honk, let drums beat
A ll buttocks think of concerto to feel,
N estle would be a cleft you won’t try,
R esonate with TAKA SUFE rhythm or fly,
E nslave by mastery of progression ory
W earing and tearing the trajectory of joy;
A belly to sream mindless JOLLOF
J oin the felicitation that bake his cake
U se the sun,the moon shall halt the make

He explore the BATA,to tongue his ego
Or mythic SEKERE trans from EBA ODAN
The giant of SEYLEK would attest to go,
He will dance, he will dance and fan
Many days to inherit more years
And concise with mere Agbada for ears.
Even midnight dreams are shadowed by
The most humiliating failures
And the inability to cope
In areas where I formerly excelled.

By my need to get it right
While watching myself get it wrong
And race in all directions
In the hope of fixing things.

And made to answer for
The things I used to do so well
And now can’t do at all
While there’s no place to hide.

From another graphic vision of
My inability to do the things that I did best
That specter follows me into the day
Eliminating any hope of joy.

One more day begun with tears
And lack of understanding of
The reason for the torture
That my dreams inflict on me.

Was I bad and evil in my youth
Has it come back to haunt me now
No, I do not think that’s it
I am my own worst enemy.
The one to blame is only me.
Cursed with an uncontrollable unconscious that for some reason hates me.
petals close when you are near

stars shudder at your finger tips

the moon shakes in it’s silver skin

and I -


despite myself and my heart’s warnings

against your cruel caresses

I sigh, into your curves

and bury my head in the sands of oblivion
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