He was the child with the magnifying glass that lingered
in the exhalation of the heavens. Always holding it on
those of weaker statue than himself. Insects were his
starting point, as they were barbecued under the influence
of what was focused between light and glass and what
lived became inanimate just a blackened smear that he
smothered words into the dirt
        
                           I'LL BURN THE WORLD,

His parents saw this and in jest laughed it off as the
Immaturity of a child's frustration. That all was but a
a boy finding his place within the many echoes of manhood.
A child was maturing, and they assumed that he was not
ready for the collision of what was in-between the moments
of childhood and adulthood.

One cold and sodden night where the only things that were dry.
Were submerged in the cover of roofs and foliage.
But even the penetrating raindrops gathered in haste to soak
the earth beneath the leaves protection. All drowned within
nights flourish of immersed air. Where it felt that breath was only
in-between the flurry of h20's deluge.

Within the house, within the rooms crept a silence.
            It wasn't alone, for it wept unseen streams between the  
crisp white borderlines,  were doused in clear liquids,
Draping the curtains in non received  heavy remorse,
the only things that were burdensome were the drapes as the weight of the liquid pulled at the seams holding them aloft.

Remorse was neither felt or given. just a feeling of accomplishment.  
Felt it in the moments that succeeded between this
gathering of dead lights as a flame was lit.
But not a whisper was echoed this flame was lifeless
in the eyes of its beneficiary.
But it lept upon the walls like a ballerina, gentle,
and dancing within the confides of its given dance.

He stood in the hallway the flashback was unexpected,
but he still stood there gazing and the beauty of something
given with such frailty that a breath could extinguish
its potential. His parents had no idea, they were slumbering
within the confines of blankets that entombed the warmth.
Clasping hand even in sleep love was a subconscious yearning.
The thing with these old houses some had decretive metal over
the wind bars in beauty crafted to keep things out.


But this was his plan, what cant get in cant get out.
He'd gone in there room and stole the key.
He took a last glance, and said,
             "I Love You
,Before sealing them within. The flames were silent like
a stalker watching waiting, till the inevitable conclusion.

As things started to burn more passionately, caressing every
thing it was touching. So the smoke started to thicken like
A heavy smog it got into places the fire had not reached.
Moans could be heard, then screams at the realisation of
what was happening. He Could hear them, he could see them.
For even though a teenager he was intuitively cunning,
tinkering with everything and anything.

And small cameras were dotted around the house,
looking listening to everything that was seen and spoken.
It had come to fruition due to one such thing he had heard
being discussed by his parents.

"I saw him in the woods,

                 "Doing what darling?

"He didn't see me but the neighbours cat,
                                  "you know soot,

"What did he do, nothing bad!

                "He tied it up,
"Then threw what I thought was water on it,
                  I thought it was nasty but then!!!  

"Then what, your scaring me,

"He lit a cigarette, I didn't even know he smoked,
  "Then he discarded the match,

       "The cat, oh my god the cat,

"But he recorded its screams, he recorded it dying,

"I couldn't move I was so angry, so humiliated,
        "I wanted to throttle him there and then,

"But ill phone the police tomorrow,
                  "He's not right, who would do that,

How dare they think that I can just be fobbed off,
         discarded.

                                             I was making music,
the screams were a delicate symphony,
            acoustics that's couldn't be reproduced.
It had to be from the source.

That laid, the plans for what now enveloped that house,
recording every noise, every scream. But what he needed
was for them to burn, to release the music he needed to
hear to complete his work. And they like parents gave it
there all, he had goose bumps as he heard there terror.
his eyes welled up, not in regret but the beauty that his
parent last words were given to him, so personal was this
moment that he'd never forget it.
                                                        
                                                                ­          "Thank Mum & Dad,

After this he released a mix tape, that could be only
conceived from an artist, in the womb of excellence.
That's the reviews he had, it brought shudders to your
heart and mind. It was if your humanity was crying out to it.

As so forth and more were sewn in the adulation of his work.

Now he needed to make more music, but he needed more
screams to make his next piece two were not enough..

So he wandered the night, dressed in unclean wear
so not to be confused with who, or what he was..
He hung around the homeless parts of town,
plastic sheeting for roofs.. and combustible bedding.
It was as if he'd planned himself. but he had to be smart.
for this was if ill planned he would have a needle in his
arm within the year. But he took his time tiny cameras
recording visually and sound.

He had gathered the combustible elements needed to
make this a orchestra of his needing, not a duet like before.
He didn't down play his past offering, but this would make
an album of despair and monument to the flame.

It had been raining, but only lightly as he needed some
dampness in the air on there sheets cardboard mattresses.
So not to raise suspicion on the dampness of there homes.

As they moved away from the embers of barrel fires,
yes he'd thought about that. Not every home was a
crematorium a cardboard and plastic coffin of there
choosing. He waited clasping his hands together breathing
on them as it was cold night. He liked to watch, a voguer
of sort, but his wasn't the fantasy of death it was to hear the
music that was about to be sung with smoke filled lungs.

He'd set up a unique but rudimentary way to light the fire,
a small gas hob with liquid within. it needed to be a certain
temperature ignite, he had tried it before in a field out west.
Deserted he'd made a mock up of this humble place.
And he wasn't mistaken it was fascinating, the flame spread
like the wind enveloping everything but, it was a dull for even
though the flames wept of everything, its tears turning all to
ash..

It was silent, deafening, he cried for a while, there should never
be censorship of the flame, for what is a log fire without the cracking of its inner self being consumed. This was just smoke
and regret. But he now looked down at the camp, his watch
counting down the precious moments.
                                                             He whispered.
                                              

                                                  "Thankyou,
­
And then like a super nova the darkness was ingulfed in
the aurora of flame, gliding over the ground as if a stream
of conscious reckoning. Those near by the civilians that were
                        across the street were transfixed.
As screams embellished the flames, this was my orchestra
of light and noise. Those across the street were either screaming
or videoing the scene.
I looked at them and wondered where there humanity
had gone to, as to film this moment rather than to rush in
and save the few that they could.

I watched as the engines came, extinguishing my masterpiece
choosing the night was always preferable to the day as flames
dance better when there is less light to contaminate there beauty.

My music, I had become quite the remixer, of vocal and rhythmic
sounds.
                               Within a week I had mad nine new songs.

I named them each as deserved, making them in memory of
those who perished that dreadful night.
            It was well received, a few thought it was a haunting
melody of humanity's struggle, while a few thought it was
over ambitious, and lacked the passion of my first piece.

All together it went down well, and the adulation of the
flame was kept, to honour that which gives as much as
takes the breath of life away.
A year had past and the door rang, it was an officer.

                 "Could you come to the station please,

Had I become the victim of my own success, had someone
broke down the acoustics of my music and realised what
they were?? So many thoughts went through the calm
exterior of my persona. But inside the flame dimmed,
had I lit the last candle. I was taken in to a room,
and questioned evasive not to the point but gathering
speed to the answer, where were you on the
                                                             ­       30th April 2019.

Alabi's were a fantastic thing to plan ahead, I had laced
my date with sleeping tablets to leave her in perpetual
slumber. And got back before she awoke, we made love
we were the flame and the wick.. and our sweat was the wax dripping from our form. The next week I dumped her.

They asked if I recognised a picture, blurry and ill framed
but I could make out the figure was me. No sir I don't why.
This person of interest is wearing your jacket, your logo!
I smiled and was truthful to a degree.
                                                             Planning is everything.

I threw maybe fifty into the crowd when I did a concert
in the city, when we drove past some homeless persons.
We donated what was left to them, do you realise how
cold these streets are, who am I to steal warmth away.
I don't wear my own merchandise what do you think I
am egotistical, no I wanted to help those who I could
have been if not for my music. I lost my parents I know
what its like to be alone.

I think the show went well, as I was released before
reporters even got a sniff. But I knew that my time
was a wick trying to keep the flame lit but dying out
anyway. I had made preparations for this time.

I had brought a club only for gigs, cheesy as hell but
had that 80's disco vibe the entire floor was light up.
But I had brought  the ingredients for thermite,
amazing what you learn in school and the internet.
But I never used mine different libraries in different
cities so not raise suspicion. I  invited the music critics
and others which I had personally disproved of.
its was going to be free drinks and themed 80's night.

Who can not want free drinks, well I wasn't going to be
disappointed 90% came, how lucky the few.
Phones were confiscated, no video, but more
importantly no phone calls to the outside world.
I told them at the end of the night that I was realising
a new song, they were like vultures to flesh.
As the night progressed some wanted to leave,
but we offered them the VIP section also lit flooring.

Now was the time, I had put heating elements under the floor
to ignite the thermite. A supernova of heat even though brief
would ignite the choir of harmony needed. I asked them,
                                                           ­ "Are you ready,

And then silence, I put on my welding glasses,
                                                        ­         I wasn't stupid.
Never look into the heart of the flame unless you want
to be blinded by its beauty.
I pressed a button and it was magnificent, it was like a tide of sunlight, they tried to scramble but all exits were locked.
It was like the wizard of Oz, and the witch I'm meltinggggg..
But this wasn't a fairy tale.. The adulation I had for these
chosen few. What excitement the others had missed.

I'd made my booth flame and smoke proof, I had my own
walkway but I knew that this was the last time I could pay
homage to the flame. As the screams died down.
The wicks smouldered and the floor looked more like a battle
field of  WWII. I began I knew I didn't have a lot of time.
But this was just a single I'd already got the backing music
ready. And as I worked away, I could hear the banging on
the reinforced doors. They gave me a breather to get my
work fulfilled.

I heard the doors start to give way but no matter
I'd only needed this time to tweak the music.
Given I'd started this over an hour ago, it was good
on my part for this not to be broadcast till I saw fit.
As the police burst through, gazing at the flaming
effigies that lied before them, some threw up, gross..

While others saw me smiling I pressed the button and
my new song was word wide.. its was called the critics
tried to burn me down. The response was gratifying.
Likes reached the hundreds of thousands in mere minutes.
Well it was only three minutes twenty five seconds long.
As they shoot at the booth I wiggled my finger at them.
I do like to plan ahead but dam was that loud against the
glass. Got to be said some had wicked aim, made me flinch
a few times.

But alas all things come to an end, I uploaded my videos
of what I had done. I was proud of my contribution to
my legacy and empowering others with my music.
As I looked down at the puddle, I tap danced in it for
a moment and then lit the lighter, I looked a them
and once again waved, I was like a funeral pyre.
A crematorium of silence and then I was gone.
                                                I didn't scream,
I was in her embrace and had done her proud.

In the face of the rainbow shawl
Where the sun's shone like the sky
And my skin grows black and dull
Like an aged's hair: hued with dye

In the midst of our three worlds
Where trends, silver-gold drives mind
And urge for fun,ford flows in bloods
Like baby, a witch, powerful has bind

Still, I will rove all the thirty-six corners
In my kaftan under the scorching sun
Sweating stream like a Kenyan runner
Pushing my sells, on a metal in the sun

Selling my onions,pepper and cheap grains
Cool with my job, hard, without much gains

POET Oluwatimilehin Adejumobi Alabi

In the frolics of a sole heart filled with joy

We boarded same bus as one unchained

Since for lifetime we won't die being a'boy,

Nor shall will be dogs unfreed from chained.

We fed our eyes with the modes of our lives.

And filled our ears with the songs of our pains.

We met drivers that carved fear in our lives

And loved coach who taught us without gains.

While we frowned our face at the endless road,

We got tired of faces we no more want to see.

While our bus lept like that of an hungry toad,

We feared we were stuck on another inert sea.

But as we each got to our bus stoppage spot,

Again await each, a ricket' bus to a final spot.


(A poem dedicated to any graduating class)

Poet Alabi Oluwatimilehin
Adejumobi
BabyLawyer

The task I pay for change
With my thumbs I make my choice.
My very own choice without coercion
Oh! Hear me, my dearly pay for change.

The balance in my diet has flown.
See me and how I have become.
The 2nd to none to Iya oni Jedi
Since the constant change I chose,
Is nothing but inconsistent starch.
Tearful, I gaze at the Umbrella man.
And he mused:"Tunde!,
The task you paid for change"

My fresh fair skin has flown,
Replaced with spots as guinea fowl
Upon my flesh the night beast fed
For in darkness, my fair body lay
In night and day, no power
For my blade to blow away the beast
Ha! Bitter tablet becomes my mint.
Again he mused:"Emeka!,
The task you paid for change"

In abundance of what we own,
I drove to fuel, and got stuck.
Early at dawn under crescent sky,
My car, the endless queue has snatched
Alas! I now seek water and grass.
My keys unlost, but horse I ride
Since I starve in what abound.
Again he said: "Danladi!,
The task you pay for change"

Poet: Oluwatimilehin Adejumobi Alabi

At the hours the night breaks into dawn,

And the white sky flexes his blue agile muscle

For the shining sun's golden ray to rest on lawn,

And the birds, her wings, to spread and tussle.


I too had forlorn my warm cozy blanket and bed,

To rove the hard market's nook and cranny stores

With just a few innate coin my young palm held,

Enchanted by some bulky goodies therein the malls.


I strolled up and below as an o'clock pendulum,

And aimless as the flexy bead of a lassie's waist.

I saw my pine goodies stoop over my small sum

And all my sums like stew but no tongue to taste.


So this film went on and on like the flowing stream

Till the once bright-young day sank dark and dim

Poet: Oluwatimilehin Adejumobi Alabi

We sit see and yearn from afar
The landscape pride-flock'ed-people
In grid gift grieve, We cry 'Argh!'
Jealousy and envy make us enfeeble

We know our bus can get there
But our drivers are drunk
We know we shall get there
When our drivers aren't longer drunk

Our road to Canaan is unclear
Our bingers should rest on bunks
Less, our ignited bus will orb on a spot
Until the drunkards eyes is tears and clear

And alcohol in blood is no longer conk
Our bus to Canaan will orb on a spot.

Poet: Oluwatimilehin Adejumobi Alabi

In the moonlit evening so cold,
When the breeze hold like bites.
Mine, come out and be so bold,
To salvage me and clinch'n me tight.

When my pink lips freeze and quiver,
And dry of thirst of your grease.
Mine, cuddle me and make me not shiver,
Wet my lips with your tasteless juice.

When I'm lone on a bed hard strong,
And my voice is cold dry and lost.
Mine,be my pillow and sing me a song,
Till, I lost my senses in your lust.

And I sow a breathing seed on'y soil
Against some months of matrimony toil

(A poem dedicated to married couples)

POET: OLUWATIMILEHIN A. ALABI

I feel what the snubbed boy feels
When his name has been cast-listed
In the theatre stage by two's fun
And he has to make his errand in loo

I feel what the snubbed girl feels
When her hope is raised by a call
From the land which doesn't exit
And she yes the beckon to death pills

I feel what the snubbed twins feel
As they taste life's honey in warm world
And hear melodious wave outside world
But yet won't join in the outer world.

I feel what the snubbed two feel
When they first enjoyed a cozy life
And they were later dumped to cold
In a basket with one bottle of food

For they bear first hand of judas kiss
As they hear the thwart plans from in
And are helpless about what to do
For their cries and sorrows goes unheard

Indeed, I feel what the snubbed all feel

POET: OLUWATIMILEHIN A. ALABI

Oh! esteemed Adonis,
Who can engrave you upon the sands of time,
And can steal for a life time,
A space from your priceless heart?

Is it a mere night-bar peppered fish,
That is eaten and passed into the loo?
Or cups of wine gulped through the throat
That shys the brain from senses aright?

Or the rich living lines of a poor country boy,
Carved from his mind with his sleepless night,
To immortalise you for generations to see
And behold your beauty when the dust calls your name?

POET:
OLUWATIMILEHIN A. ALABI
BABY LAWYER

My eyes are of the hills, I see what it is;
When the night guards lost their ways,
And the ball of the hunter whistle is miss.
Ha! I see from the hills what ahead lays.

My eyes are of the witch, I see what is deep;
When the shepherd misplaces his rod,
And to be the lord are the lot of his sheep.
Ha! I See all duel over who to be the lord.

My eyes are of the wise, I see with my mind;
When the chief's pant is turn underneath,
And his child point and laugh at his find.
Ha! I see the shame the visitor see both with.

Oh! I see, when we crack our egg with stone,
Alas! And we have nothing left to call our own.

#Indeed, I see it from the end#

POET:  OLUWATIMILEHIN ADEJUMOBI ALABI

When the storm of turbulence swings
Through: nooks, crannies and crack my wings
Oh! My heart stay on awake for me
And hold me firm under the tree

When the whirl and breeze of the wind
Becomes too tough for me to bear
Will you stay alert and be kind?
To pull off your jacket for me to wear?


When I feel my air is lost in despair
Because of life's worries and fears
Please stay on the watch and warm my hope
Till I'm strength-sufficient at least to elope

When life's mist makes the future blur
And my wits all fall to the core
Or when my Caeser's Brutus turn to betray me
I humbly plead,'stay by me and comfort me'

Oh! Stay keep alert
Please don't depart
Share my anguish with me
And stay on awake with me.

Poet:
Alabi Oluwatimilehin
BabyLawyer

It is in no mans' agenda to go
No man comes there happy
And leaves there happy
It's a place you can't do without
A place you must go.

Feelings of joy hugs sorrow as
No man comes there complete
And leaves there complete
It's a place you can't do without
A place you must go.

Gates of life: In and Exit exist
It brings life and brings joy
It takes life and takes joy
It's a place you can't do without
A place you must go.

It is a junction of trilema
You stay-back and nurse death
You come-by and fear to death
It's place you can't do without
A place you must go.

It is a place you meet old friends
You smile and exchange greets
Aches, pains and depression undisclosed
It's place you can't do without
A place you must go.

It orphans child and children
And childless widow and couples
It stings people with tragic memories
Indeed it's a place you can't do without
And a place you must go.

Poet Alabi Oluwatimilehin
Adejumobi
BabyLawyer

Once I set to buy your face,
With the gold of the greatest smith.
In vain, I came to see,
That a strand of your hair
Is like the wave of the sky
And a set of your teeth,
Is like a piece of diamond

Again I dare to pay your venus
With the silver brought from Greece
In vain, I still came to see,
That a ball of your eyes,
Is like a galaxy at night,
And a breath of your nose,
Is like a life to a rose.

No precious stone on earth,
Can buy your priceless winsome
And win your priceless heart.
Except the poor young poet,
Who can just be graced by you
Perhaps because with poor him,
You find your muse 'nd breath at ease

POET:
OLUWATIMILEHIN A. ALABI
BABY LAWYER

I miss the place of the rising sun;
For nothing makes my hair stand here.
No one to sing me my very ‘oriki,’
Nor the slightest ‘se dada loji?’

I miss the place of the ‘gangan’ beats;
For no meals shakes my tongue here.
No one to make me ‘efo oni kpomo’ with ‘iru,’
Nor the slightest ‘garri’ of ‘ijebu.’

I miss the place of the ‘aso ofi;’
For no clothes touches my sight here.
No one to tap me that very ‘emu oguro,’
Nor the slightest good-sauced ‘eja odo.’

For if not for the clarion call,
Oh! let ‘egbe’ come take me home,
With the real speed of ‘monomono.’

Oluwatmilehin Adejumobi Alabi

When my dreams are failing
And you set to take your leave
Or when my hope is falling
And from me you shift like thief
When my horrific night is endless
And my morning dawn fails to break
As leaf,you fall for I'm hopeless
Since no anywhere is for me to take
I will tears my body like sweat
And you will laugh at your wise
But my tunnel light shall reflect
And my falling hopes shall arise
Indeed, I will freely forgive you,
But our love life is definitely due.

Poet:
Alabi Oluwatimilehin
BabyLawyer

When my dreams are failing
And you set to take your leave
Or when my hope is falling
And from me you shift like thief
When my horrific night is endless
And my morning dawn fails to break
As leaf,you fall for I'm hopeless
Since no anywhere is for me to take
I will tears my body like sweat
And you will laugh at your wise
But my tunnel light shall reflect
And my falling hopes shall rise
Indeed, I will freely forgive you,
But I will also learn from you.

Poet:
Alabi Oluwatimilehin
BabyLawyer

Baby🥰💕,
Olowo ori Asake,
Oko mama e,
Alabi Ife,
Ọmọ wọn ni'lu Ilorin.

You plant the seed of love in my heart.
You water the seed of love with your sweet words and then boom it sprouts,
You nourish the seedlings of your love with your caress,
Until its roots and stems are vibrant.

Even though I hurt you the most,
Even though I snub you the most,
Even though...

You never ceased to be appealing to me,
You hold me tight like I will fall,
You are always there when I need you the most and,
You deserve the best.
Now,I promise to reveal the best part of me.
I love you💕.

Money is essential Sha😀

Oh Dark'N'shine,
Spaces abridge we two,
Yet, every day and night,
I see your face
Because the sky and star
Remind me of you always.

Oh Dark'N'shine,
Your smiles are healing spell
Your breath is energy
Your voice is the buoy of life
Your touch is magical
And your love is happiness

Oh Dark'N'shine,
Let me lost my fingers
In the spaces of yours
Let me lost my arms
Around your shoulder
Let us find our tongues
Lost in our mouths

Oh Dark'N'shine,
Let your heart beat
Rhyme with mine.
Let our cold limbs
Be warm from hugs

Let your face smile
To these words
And Let my Heart
Be entwined in agape bloom.


Poet:
Alabi Oluwatimilehin
BabyLawyer

Oh Princess, tell me my question;

Is your parent from Beautiful's City,

Or where you born in Gorgeous' station?

For you're dark and indeed very pretty.

Tell me, were you bathed in silver water,

And your teeth carved from a circled moon?

Or your eyeballs from stars shown at winter?

For I think o'your face all night to noon.

Please Lady, who taught you how to sing,

In the heavens or the feminine phoenix?

Is it angels roving earth without wing,

Or the bird that chips early before six?

Oh please! Tell me, are you someone's queen,

Or ll y'permit us to roll like lovely twin?



Poet:
Alabi Oluwatimilehin
BabyLawyer

Oh yes! The sun shall rise,
When the morning crow breaks a dawn
And brace our feet and fill our hands
To drag our bags and walk our talks.
Oh yes! The sun shall shine,
When it billion rays cause us tears
And melts our flesh and salt our sweats
To make us an anthem and pledge.
Oh yes! The sun shall set,
When it's Half and Yellow in  the sky
And the shouts of joy takes the air
To let us hug our new home.

Oluwatimilehin Adejumobi Alabi

Wander where the coldness resides went I.
An alabi to excuse short comings: remaining pride.
Bittersweet freedom when it dies, to forsake the lies covering shame.
We give it a name: must explain.
To make it easier on ouselves like memories dwelling like dust upon shelves like fading footsteps on the shore like internet like stained knees from the fall or ignorance.
When it doesn't make sense and you have nobody to ask but yourself...is this what you get?