The essence of life
Is not the grand, shining prize—
Not the towers we build,
Not the praise, not the size.

It is not in the gold
That I chased in my youth,
But in hard-spoken love,
And in stubborn old truth.

It’s not in the noise
Of applause or acclaim,
But in calling your child
By their little pet name.

It lives in the touch
Of a calloused old hand,
In the strength to let go,
In the grace to withstand.

I once thought it lived
In the sharp edge of pride,
But it is more in the nights
When someone stayed by your side.

It’s in nursing a wound
That no one can see,
In forgiving yourself
Before your soul goes to sleep.

It’s in coffee gone cold
In a hospital bed,
In the things that you meant
But never quite said.

It’s in songs half-remembered
And quiet shared meals,
In the hush of a prayer
When you don’t know what heals.

It’s the smile you give,
Not the ones you take;
The truth you speak
For compassion’s sake.
Not the lies you guard,
Or the words you bend—
But the honesty shared
That helps someone mend.

The essence of life
Isn’t found in control,
But in losing your way
And still loving it whole.

It’s the friend who returns
Though you pushed them away,
It’s the smile from a stranger
That carries your day.

It’s in holding your breath
As the sunset turns gold,
And the ache in your chest
When you’re finally old.

It’s the stories I tell
Though my voice may grow thin,
And the silence that waits
For the next breath to begin.

So if you're still young,
Don’t rush through the race.
Let the moment unfold—
Feel the sun on your face.

Because life, my dear child,
Isn’t just to survive.
It’s the love that we leave—
That’s the essence of life.

Let me make one thing clear today,
Like the lion’s roar at the break of day.
If my worth you fail to see,
then like the wind, you drift from me.
Loyalty is strong, like ancient stone,
and those who stray must walk alone.

People come and people go,
like rivers where the wild reeds grow.
But if you stand, then stand with pride,
like mighty baobabs side by side.
Respect is not a gift, but earned,
like coal from the wood when burned.

I do not chase, I do not plead,
my heart is not a thing of need.
If you walk, then go your way,
no words will beg for you to stay.
The ones who matter, firm remain,
like endless stars in the night’s domain.

A stranger you will be to me,
like lost footprints washed to sea.
Deceit is but a fleeting shade,
exposed beneath the sun’s cruel blade.
Respect is deep, like mountain roots,
and falsehood bears no lasting fruits.

I do not play the games of those,
who shift like winds where no one knows.
I stand with those whose hearts are true,
whose souls shine bright like morning dew.
Like warriors bound by blood and trust,
I walk with strength, I rise from dust.

So if you’re here, then stand with grace,
this path we walk is not a race.
It’s not a right to walk beside,
but earned with truth and worn with pride.
I give my love to those who see,
that worth is built on loyalty.

I am no king, yet here I stand,
A puppet bound by Baba’s hand.
He lifts me high, he pulls the strings,
He owns my fate, he crowns my wings.

He whispers soft, “The throne is yours,”
Yet locks my soul behind his doors.
With stolen gold, he paves my way,
My name, my face, the price he pays.

He calls me son, but brands my skin,
His mark runs deep, it burns within.
He buys my men, he bends the night,
He clears my path with blood and might.

His wealth runs thick, a poisoned stream,
A silent curse, a fractured dream.
I must win—no, he must reign,
The debt is his, the cost my chain.

Mark your votes and play your part,
Or watch him tear the world apart.
For if he falls, then flames will rise,
The streets will choke on shattered cries.

Two years his, then one for me,
One for you, but never free.
Four more come, the pact may change,
The balance shifts, the vows rearrange.

Take your crumbs, be still, be tame,
For baba must feast, his only aim.
It’s Babacracy, dark and deep,
I do not rule—I watch, I weep.

For if he turns, the storm will break,
And all I’ve built, the wind will take.
Your voices drown in hollow halls,
And I must bow when Baba calls.

It’s Babacracy—no light, no grace,
Just power’s hand upon my face.

Oh, your cries are weak, your strength too small,
So take what’s left, if left at all.
It’s Babacracy—I don't serve you,
My oath is sworn, my path untrue.

If the voices of the voiceless remain unattended to,
In our tomorrow, will there be a dream to run to?
They cry in silence as their dreams are being tattered.
They speak in their heart because their words don't matter.

They didn't ask to be born
But they are here left to tick away like a time bomb.
Those who help them, take away their pride.
Those who ignore them, jest with their strides.


They are made adults before adulthood.
They are made worthless like bitter truth.
They groom their offsprings without a groom.
They are only needed to choose an umbrella or a broom.

My people, what we have seen don't scare like the unseen.
The hate we give today, are just fruitful seeds.
We have their pairs as children and wards.
Yet, we left them for the rain, the sun and the world.

Ain't we worse than the worst virus?
Ain't we creating what will devour us?
Now tell me, if the voices of the voiceless remain unattended to,
In our tomorrow, will there be a dream to run to?

Oh virgins, daughters of the defiled
I feel your blood crying, your soul on a flight
Uncovered darkness made naked
Your soul now a cheap commodity in the world market.

Where lies your strength lies your weakness
Your soldiers are drunk with your enemies wine
Your tears have become your elite happiness
In unrighteousness your sanctuaries celebrate crimes.

Oh my land, a bride once envied
Now dancing in between hell and heaven
Your contemporaries impatiently await to clap at your fall
In a maze, your springs war themselves over unknown gods.

Oh dis-flowered sons of a barren gun
When will your defiled heart see the ditch well dug for yourselves?
My sympathy has deserted me for your unborn sons
You are convincing me that you will wake after burying yourselves.

Oh king of a defiled throne
You are not too blind nor deaf to know we have cast our stones
You are our Jona please leave our boat
Let see how well our hopes can sail us home.

**** nation
Conversing with ammunitions.
Hearts that are barely loyal
Being served by humbled soldiers.

No wonder peace has been conquered
And war the man on the altar.
Her habitants live like their souls are on trial
And their god a liar.

**** nation
Her masses are speechless creatures
Ruled in cluelessness
Jubilating in bitterness.

**** Nation
Driven by greedy intentions
Stomach fed with promises
Sleeping and waking in calamities.

**** nation
The fat ones are the vultures
Termites and cankerworms haven
The thinning path between hell and heaven.

**** nation
Where the safest place is the grave
Saints nation rebirth to a **** nation
Where unity and faith are slaves.

Hmm! My **** nation of tears
Unfortunately, I'm fortunate to be born here
blessed with everything, cursed with leadership,
Born into miseries, dying in hardship.

A **** nation in a tunnel
Crowded with diverse starlets
Being forced to drain down the funnel
Crying blood for a spark soonest.