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"illuminous" poems
and I would give everything I have to see your eyes light up like streetlamps and you know that time in summer where the steady glow from daylight merges into night time and the breeze dances along the leaves of trees too tall like ballerinas; so gentle if you blink you’ll miss the sway of them? that’s what you remind me of. you are a glow, an indian sunset and I long to be the sea your sun shine kisses and when your glow transcends into moonlight I long to be the stars who are accompanied by your effervescent light night after night and you know to me you will always be a god **** sunset when you should be rainfall: you pour down on everything I love and leave puddles;  you cause unapologetic floods in the crevices of my collarbones and attach your saltwater to the follicles of my hair and you warp the words on the pages of love letters I never sent and when you fall down my cheeks my teardrops and your raindrops will merge and for a moment we will become one and that’s all I’ve ever wanted. to be one with you. to be a god **** indian sunset in your illuminous eyes. I keep running through the hallways of my mind and your voice is bouncing off the walls and echoing straight through my chest and there’s a thudding that gets louder and louder, like bongo drums, every time and I’m pretty sure my heart is now a gallery of us, open for public consumption and they can walk along the hallways and appreciate the beauty of our profound love like you never could. one day you will find someone who melts your heart into your veins until it feels like the oxygen around your body is trapped and screaming for you to try to breathe, try to breathe harder and you’ll scream for them and they’ll stop returning your calls and there’ll be no texts and everything you once had will sink – almost in slow motion, almost as intangible as the idea that I loved you harder than anyone ever could – a ship where you’re the only person aboard and you’ll be watching an indian sunset like you watched their fingertips trace the curvature of your hips for the last time and you’ll realise in that moment that they were your indian sunset and man, don’t you just wish for some rainfall?
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Jan 25, 2016
Jan 25, 2016 at 9:31 PM UTC
indian sunset
and I would give everything I have to see your eyes light up like streetlamps and you know that time in summer where the steady glow from daylight merges into night time and the breeze dances along the leaves of trees too tall like ballerinas; so gentle if you blink you’ll miss the sway of them? that’s what you remind me of. you are a glow, an indian sunset and I long to be the sea your sun shine kisses and when your glow transcends into moonlight I long to be the stars who are accompanied by your effervescent light night after night and you know to me you will always be a god **** sunset when you should be rainfall: you pour down on everything I love and leave puddles;  you cause unapologetic floods in the crevices of my collarbones and attach your saltwater to the follicles of my hair and you warp the words on the pages of love letters I never sent and when you fall down my cheeks my teardrops and your raindrops will merge and for a moment we will become one and that’s all I’ve ever wanted. to be one with you. to be a god **** indian sunset in your illuminous eyes. I keep running through the hallways of my mind and your voice is bouncing off the walls and echoing straight through my chest and there’s a thudding that gets louder and louder, like bongo drums, every time and I’m pretty sure my heart is now a gallery of us, open for public consumption and they can walk along the hallways and appreciate the beauty of our profound love like you never could. one day you will find someone who melts your heart into your veins until it feels like the oxygen around your body is trapped and screaming for you to try to breathe, try to breathe harder and you’ll scream for them and they’ll stop returning your calls and there’ll be no texts and everything you once had will sink – almost in slow motion, almost as intangible as the idea that I loved you harder than anyone ever could – a ship where you’re the only person aboard and you’ll be watching an indian sunset like you watched their fingertips trace the curvature of your hips for the last time and you’ll realise in that moment that they were your indian sunset and man, don’t you just wish for some rainfall?
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4
Golden shawls envelope flushing, blending fabrics which billow  under the waxen blackbird's silky braided feathers. Heaven's vault, a celestial sphere of blue yonder, a swirling palette of oils suffusing and dancing, wrapping their ringlets into one thousand spirals which signet shadows onto the  slender impressions in the sog. Illuminous, voluminous salmon bleaches blushing black tissue to pale primrose promising the cobalt then marrying to aquamarine. Stained glass fingers barely protruding from aurelian pews.
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Apr 20, 2014
Apr 20, 2014 at 2:01 PM UTC
A mood for sunsets
I build a house of cards with the deck of hearts and present it to you. And upon seeing all my full, red expressions of affection, you shuffle and deal out my imperfections until one by one, my house falls down. Your diamonds aren't as illuminous as they were after your first sip, you say. So all your glitter isn't really gold, you say while shifting my diamond to a rhombus never to turn it right side up again. Your clubs beat me over the head and cause my brain to swell with a smooth aftertaste as you see through my lack of a poker face. Breaking through my walls and exposing my weak points. Flooding over my defenses and ensnaring me in a trap weaved only by the highest proof and I know you have won. Because my ace of spades has been found. Trickling your jokers over the rocks to my hearts, they climb over the rubble that has been laid at the ground, the foundation, the base. And your clubs tear it up! And the jokers, you! race to the top of the south and with your strongest clubs, break into my ace of spades! Pinning it to the ground and forcing it to turn around and flee! And I can hear it! I hear it calling for me... to help us get away but my hearts are dull and my shifting rhombi are ablaze.   For this infinite moment in time is dazzling and my own eyes aren't aligned to light the way to free me. Gleaming rays of the sheen from your diamonds slice through my illusions and wake me up to the aroma of fresh debris. My hearts, toppled.  My diamonds, demolished. My clubs, sleeping and my ace of spades, removed. And the sky never changes. The moon ripples in the puddle left behind by the design of your jokers and spades and your hearts remain untouched.  Your spades are buried behind walls of black and your diamonds are so far back that I couldn't tell if they were even there at all. My deck of 52 is now a deck of 51 and without a solid set, I'll never have the chance to play this "game" again.
0
Oct 27, 2012
Oct 27, 2012 at 2:46 AM UTC
Poker Face
I build a house of cards with the deck of hearts and present it to you. And upon seeing all my full, red expressions of affection, you shuffle and deal out my imperfections until one by one, my house falls down. Your diamonds aren't as illuminous as they were after your first sip, you say. So all your glitter isn't really gold, you say while shifting my diamond to a rhombus never to turn it right side up again. Your clubs beat me over the head and cause my brain to swell with a smooth aftertaste as you see through my lack of a poker face. Breaking through my walls and exposing my weak points. Flooding over my defenses and ensnaring me in a trap weaved only by the highest proof and I know you have won. Because my ace of spades has been found. Trickling your jokers over the rocks to my hearts, they climb over the rubble that has been laid at the ground, the foundation, the base. And your clubs tear it up! And the jokers, you! race to the top of the south and with your strongest clubs, break into my ace of spades! Pinning it to the ground and forcing it to turn around and flee! And I can hear it! I hear it calling for me... to help us get away but my hearts are dull and my shifting rhombi are ablaze.   For this infinite moment in time is dazzling and my own eyes aren't aligned to light the way to free me. Gleaming rays of the sheen from your diamonds slice through my illusions and wake me up to the aroma of fresh debris. My hearts, toppled.  My diamonds, demolished. My clubs, sleeping and my ace of spades, removed. And the sky never changes. The moon ripples in the puddle left behind by the design of your jokers and spades and your hearts remain untouched.  Your spades are buried behind walls of black and your diamonds are so far back that I couldn't tell if they were even there at all. My deck of 52 is now a deck of 51 and without a solid set, I'll never have the chance to play this "game" again.
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35
I. There was once a tiny, fading lily Her beauty was diming, merely, Aiya Aiya…  Lucia Lucia Where wonders trapped her in deep sorrow Where the root called her to continue to grow Standing alone, an existence of solitude While the white lily shall love in delight ,  Nor weeping alone or shining in an illuminous light .  II. Lily desires to live, in a place without pain But the lily’s life is full of strife and strain Hey, Rain, did the miracle come? Look, oyster silver clouds replace dark blue skys Aiya Aiya…  Lucia Lucia As the rain started to fade into the solo song As the Lily stood while its immunity could run Who could take one name and lead an ever gain? Hey, Rain, the miracle came. Listen, silent whispers shared across the air and the rain and peacefully landed on Lily. III. Out of the deep trauma that every day grew Out of the rain, the Lily was relieved that someone else knew  Who makes her wonder, if the rain didn’t know of the Lily’s wayward roots What does the rain want to know, although the Lily hold them as emotional loot Aiya Aiya…  Lucia Lucia Who is Lily as she solely sings alone in the rain? And her heart is bleeding from the excruciating pain
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Apr 17, 2020
Apr 17, 2020 at 3:40 AM UTC
The Rain,The Lily, and The solo song
To Gods acre caught in the storm Of the angels immolation harried Like welcome strangers to the feast of The good shepherd, the world The flesh, the devil take the hindemost Vigilantly stalking Earthly tears Encrusted jewels upon Hells vestment, The harbinger of death wearing a garland Of skulls fashioned off of Heavens tomb Splendiferously graven upon lonelinesses Stoop spirited as shooting stars the Pitched candles of sovereignties saintly hands Resting between lives enlightening the broken Lamp of truth purging the liasing humours of Illuminous damnation unfrocking priests Under colour of nothingness epitomising Faiths elixer yonder the gate of unfoldenment Breaking butterflies on the wheel Of rightousness unabating delving the vale Deciduously to show the cloven hoof woe betide The levity of Man Friday billowing in the Teeth of the wind. ELEETE J MUIR.
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Jan 13, 2012
Jan 13, 2012 at 1:18 PM UTC
Torrid Reproach
* * * color buff..honey, mellow sandy beach soft 'n creamy golden yellow cascading the horizon  rising to take flight illuminous radiant desert in full moons sight soft curves flowing bending in to roll out over muscles planes, ridges territories luscious, full, round breath of air brings coolness with it's gentle touch warmth settles down soft, relaxing cloak wrapped 'round my skin is my protector the space I live within the most vulnerable part of me exposed for all to see so soft, luscious to the touch sensitive beyond compare holds memories, desires of moments wondrous exquisite shares Copyright © 2014 Christi Michaels. All Rights Reserved.
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Dec 3, 2014
Dec 3, 2014 at 12:11 PM UTC
Space I Live Within
I've always been able to feel how people are. As strange as it sounds, my sixth sense is stranger. I've known you for years. Your almost jet black hair, chiseled jaw with a scruffy beard, and those beautiful eyes to die for. You have two personalities, but you aren't insane. The one people see every day, So charismatic and brilliant. So illuminous you make my eyes burn. Talkative, fun, always the life of the party. But, You know, I see through it. Through those glassy eyes, they tell it all. I see your kind heart, the generosity you give. Yet you are sill afraid they will take advantage. You have this hard, happy shell... but this scared, secretive inside. I commend how clever you are. I really do. **Some how you convince everyone that they know the real you, but they have no idea.** And I, I saw it in an instant. It's crazy how I feel how you are. It's crazy how I can't explain it. But I know you, and I can read your heart. I know your fears, *But I will never tell.*
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Feb 28, 2013
Feb 28, 2013 at 12:27 AM UTC
My Sixth Sense
I woke up this morning thinking of my last poetry. It was done just before bed, before I tuned in to the creative frequency, and activated the poetic code. That was way long before the Sun silently crept into the deep, Taking with it its illuminous web. The sun which brightly hugs everything, Is the inspiration for my poetic vocation. I woke up early this morning Thinking of my first poetry. I want it done just before noon, which is an ideal time of the day. That ball of fire, millions of miles away, Doesn't only shine, it inspires. If the sun rays engulf everything, The potent glow of the sun might ruin and overexpose nature's beautiful hues, one of the inspirations of my poetic vocation. #IvanBrookspoery 14/04/2019
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Apr 14, 2019
Apr 14, 2019 at 3:23 PM UTC
Inspirations of My Poetic Vocation
Let these words embodied in tone slither inside you like the illuminous snake in the garden, He who would choose wisdom over blissful ignorance, come forth Primordially flicking tongues like a fleshy breeze touching the ******** of your heart, Making your soulgasm explode, shaking and shattering, The walls of this mass illusion That you and I are separate conscious, two brilliant waves cresting in the same dazzling ocean Or that words mean anything at all Follow my sign posts, they lead to a wooden paddle boat on the muddy shore of a river Climb inside as we slide with our backs against the dew wet morning grass Floating in space, staring at the vaulted ceiling of stars Beyond, behind, infinite light of time, we go as pilgrims Once across the murky water, shimmering waves, we leave the boat We put down the girl, whoever and whatever we still carry We put it down, under the bohdi tree, all the arrows are slung a thousand times; blotting out the sun, and darkness covers us in mortal fear But we speak in music now, we speak in flowers, and symphonies And dilated eyes see lotus petals unfolding at the center of the arrowhead, blossoming into divine corruption and ecstacy so terrible that you must turn away from eternity for now we have no answer to that magnificent shining face that turns our hair white We have no answer for that glowing burning face that casts us scattered into the deafening void, that beautiful face so terrible we turn from truth, we dance with death, her hair radiant, we only are permitted to see the stupendous *** of God on holiday when we enter the church, bells ringing, tolling the death of Absolute Primal Man and Woman, unconditioned individuality, original freedom Yet we still turn, some taking the lead in mortal tango, swinging to keep the beat as best we can, and when we step on a toe, we throw our heads back and laugh wildly And passionately  tongue kiss the mouth of our defeat with lust and longing, pressed close against our heaving chests because nothing really matters, that is what I say, because if nothing really matters, then everything’s okay
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Nov 26, 2014
Nov 26, 2014 at 11:07 AM UTC
Morning Star Carry Home Past The Midnight Sun
Let these words embodied in tone slither inside you like the illuminous snake in the garden, He who would choose wisdom over blissful ignorance, come forth Primordially flicking tongues like a fleshy breeze touching the ******** of your heart, Making your soulgasm explode, shaking and shattering, The walls of this mass illusion That you and I are separate conscious, two brilliant waves cresting in the same dazzling ocean Or that words mean anything at all Follow my sign posts, they lead to a wooden paddle boat on the muddy shore of a river Climb inside as we slide with our backs against the dew wet morning grass Floating in space, staring at the vaulted ceiling of stars Beyond, behind, infinite light of time, we go as pilgrims Once across the murky water, shimmering waves, we leave the boat We put down the girl, whoever and whatever we still carry We put it down, under the bohdi tree, all the arrows are slung a thousand times; blotting out the sun, and darkness covers us in mortal fear But we speak in music now, we speak in flowers, and symphonies And dilated eyes see lotus petals unfolding at the center of the arrowhead, blossoming into divine corruption and ecstacy so terrible that you must turn away from eternity for now we have no answer to that magnificent shining face that turns our hair white We have no answer for that glowing burning face that casts us scattered into the deafening void, that beautiful face so terrible we turn from truth, we dance with death, her hair radiant, we only are permitted to see the stupendous *** of God on holiday when we enter the church, bells ringing, tolling the death of Absolute Primal Man and Woman, unconditioned individuality, original freedom Yet we still turn, some taking the lead in mortal tango, swinging to keep the beat as best we can, and when we step on a toe, we throw our heads back and laugh wildly And passionately  tongue kiss the mouth of our defeat with lust and longing, pressed close against our heaving chests because nothing really matters, that is what I say, because if nothing really matters, then everything’s okay
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46
Cursed boy why does your smile not drag, those eye lined blisters not drip. Those tears of anguish and heart only slip to disappear. Jinxed child do you wish for a home a place to go. Stay here bellowed in me here in loveless limbo, I'll deject the disease illuminous beneath the vein. Here we can stay alone in this curse of loss and loss once more. Curse we feel abound spinning on life's forever wheel.
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Aug 28, 2011
Aug 28, 2011 at 12:06 AM UTC
Cursed to Be
Soar to the stars Fly with the snowflakes into the immortal wind. No specific destination just to the end of time Boundless discovery, eternal elation. Dance and embrace the harmonies, which surround you. Sounds of the ruffling leaves surfing on the very current Which carries you. Landing is not in question as you inhale a second wave. Take flight into the blissful night Higher than before, rising to the sky as an eagle overseeing his kingdom. As a cloud, taken by the breeze fullfilling it’s destiny in the infinite sky. Open your eyes my innocent child. Behold the wonder of yourself as you look upon the earth with a(n) Naïve eye. Make of it as you wish , Paint and tattoo your thoughts on a canvas of the mind Embedding what you feel, not just what you envision Relinquish the meloncholy that chains you. Landing now becomes eminent, Falling from the brilliant beauty of an illuminous moon. Crashing on the concrete reality of what life truly is; A nightmare to a dream
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Jan 17, 2012
Jan 17, 2012 at 6:23 PM UTC
Contact
He moves in silence Shows white face hides bare black hands behind back holding back violence voluminous moon passes over illuminous satellite comes closer and his face blurs Lunacy brings out fears Reveals black hands Black likes guns that he commands, ready to attack and there is no where to run.
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Mar 27, 2015
Mar 27, 2015 at 7:40 PM UTC
Face Blurs
1. Travel through the woods on a summer's day, Worries of daily chores dream endlessly away. Captive not, are we from natures luscious breast Soak within Apollo's warm oval'd gleamin' crest. Captive not, as mother earth, weaves her sorcery spell, Whistle with the wind to hear where hedge-sparrows dwell. The passion'd view before my eyes, I restrain from weep, For court'd law, Satan'd, bathes us in shrouded deceit. 2. Draw the air sacred belongs to every breath, Lack there of faith, time, now, life and death. Makes a-wonderin' in the wood on a summers day, Bring Milton's sirens; sing their note to the authors sway. Five senses, being, soul, was gave human-kind, The Zephyr bids the breeze to flutter the leaf, forces blind. Let the trees reach high, those clouds few crawlin' slow over blue sky, Gaze upward from a-new clearing I found, now where I lie. 3. The song I sing you from the lazy day of today, Brings forth illuminous colours from this wood in sunny May, To show us all the mundane lack of our own lives, Livin' the pressur'd tasks of Henrys forsaken already wives. To stress surely not, about obvious waste of things, Can't you see Constables paintings of what nature brings? The absolute amazement, of how everyday hits our eye, To leave an imprint, however deep, as stars roll by. 4. Humming the tunes of Virgil, Dante, Chaucer and Keats, Washing your bliss with the strums of nature's beats. Scrubbin' this modern life's hectic ebb and flow; Where's the wonderment gone from this wood'd meadow grow. Simple treats of sweets greet our presence every time, We open our thoughts, our minds, and enter into sublime. Stories are told, heard, forgotten, written down; For so this earths beauty be not dismiss'd, for worth of a crown.
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Jan 5, 2013
Jan 5, 2013 at 9:17 AM UTC
Travel through the woods
1. Travel through the woods on a summer's day, Worries of daily chores dream endlessly away. Captive not, are we from natures luscious breast Soak within Apollo's warm oval'd gleamin' crest. Captive not, as mother earth, weaves her sorcery spell, Whistle with the wind to hear where hedge-sparrows dwell. The passion'd view before my eyes, I restrain from weep, For court'd law, Satan'd, bathes us in shrouded deceit. 2. Draw the air sacred belongs to every breath, Lack there of faith, time, now, life and death. Makes a-wonderin' in the wood on a summers day, Bring Milton's sirens; sing their note to the authors sway. Five senses, being, soul, was gave human-kind, The Zephyr bids the breeze to flutter the leaf, forces blind. Let the trees reach high, those clouds few crawlin' slow over blue sky, Gaze upward from a-new clearing I found, now where I lie. 3. The song I sing you from the lazy day of today, Brings forth illuminous colours from this wood in sunny May, To show us all the mundane lack of our own lives, Livin' the pressur'd tasks of Henrys forsaken already wives. To stress surely not, about obvious waste of things, Can't you see Constables paintings of what nature brings? The absolute amazement, of how everyday hits our eye, To leave an imprint, however deep, as stars roll by. 4. Humming the tunes of Virgil, Dante, Chaucer and Keats, Washing your bliss with the strums of nature's beats. Scrubbin' this modern life's hectic ebb and flow; Where's the wonderment gone from this wood'd meadow grow. Simple treats of sweets greet our presence every time, We open our thoughts, our minds, and enter into sublime. Stories are told, heard, forgotten, written down; For so this earths beauty be not dismiss'd, for worth of a crown.
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36
My living self. Much less than my inner self. But simultaneously just as complicated as my entire being. The cells in my skin. In my brain. In all my organs. My mind and my soul. What complex, luminous and illuminous beings are we!
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Aug 7, 2013
Aug 7, 2013 at 3:53 PM UTC
Existence
Fireflies need no introduction. So at night time they just glow And light up the constellation With that natural illuminous flow. Fireflies are nature's lightning bugs When they glow they teach us how To love by giving free undeserved hugs. That ****** the summer's evening show. Fireflies lights up the natural environment Especially in the midsummer nights When they form part of the entertainment That nature designed using bright lights. Fireflies are nature's beautiful showgirls They love flying and flexing their wings When they giggle at night like schoolgirls Who set fireballs to the playground swings. IBPoetry©️ 2/9/2018
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Feb 9, 2018
Feb 9, 2018 at 12:34 AM UTC
Fireflies
The land is soaked with blood The sand is soaked with tears Oh How many barrels of blood must be spilled to know that so many souls are gone? How many basins of tears does it take to have more than enough tears? I am the voice of the little child crying in the wilderness I want to caress the flowers that spring out of the ground of my homeland I want to watch the ripples when rain falls I want to play with my mates on the sand along Chu Ngoke street I want to sit at home and watch my parents returning from a bountiful yam harvest I want to stand at the playground and watch the traditional wrestling I want to hear the sounds of Egelege and Egoni talking drums reminding me of yesterday and a great future ahead I want to chase away goats from eating the maize in my mother's garden I want to open my mother's *** and pick a meat out of the soup I want to see my homeland Sweet little home of ours Please take me back to Alode Please take me back to Alode I am the voice of a man Whose hope lies in shackles Whose homeland lies in broken images A town deserted and forgotten I am tired of begging for crumbs When my barn is filled with yam Mudskippers can still be found in our swamps Please take me back to Alode I don't want to die in another man's land I want to die in Alode, somewhere in Eleme I want to be buried near the grave of my father and see my ancestors usher me home with a shining crown Take me back home Take me back home Take me back to Alode Let me see beautiful women that toss about the streets Let me admire their buttocks Let me stare at their ******* those two round objects protruding out of their clothes, ******* that could make me feel like a child again Let me kiss Nyime Owa Eleme, that beautiful lady of my dream Let me lay her down on my bedside and make life worthwhile I want to go back home and see the sunshine with it's illuminous rays and the tender droplets of the rain Oh Please take me back to Alode Please take me back to Alode Take me back to Alode Let me touch your borders From Alesa to Ogale From Echieta to Onne and From Ebubu to the Onu Nmu where they say the hands cannot reach I want to touch the land of Alode I want to touch the Eleme soil I want to touch the soft green grasses of home Written by Jonah Okpabi
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Dec 17, 2017
Dec 17, 2017 at 7:09 PM UTC
TAKE ME BACK TO ALODE
The land is soaked with blood The sand is soaked with tears Oh How many barrels of blood must be spilled to know that so many souls are gone? How many basins of tears does it take to have more than enough tears? I am the voice of the little child crying in the wilderness I want to caress the flowers that spring out of the ground of my homeland I want to watch the ripples when rain falls I want to play with my mates on the sand along Chu Ngoke street I want to sit at home and watch my parents returning from a bountiful yam harvest I want to stand at the playground and watch the traditional wrestling I want to hear the sounds of Egelege and Egoni talking drums reminding me of yesterday and a great future ahead I want to chase away goats from eating the maize in my mother's garden I want to open my mother's *** and pick a meat out of the soup I want to see my homeland Sweet little home of ours Please take me back to Alode Please take me back to Alode I am the voice of a man Whose hope lies in shackles Whose homeland lies in broken images A town deserted and forgotten I am tired of begging for crumbs When my barn is filled with yam Mudskippers can still be found in our swamps Please take me back to Alode I don't want to die in another man's land I want to die in Alode, somewhere in Eleme I want to be buried near the grave of my father and see my ancestors usher me home with a shining crown Take me back home Take me back home Take me back to Alode Let me see beautiful women that toss about the streets Let me admire their buttocks Let me stare at their ******* those two round objects protruding out of their clothes, ******* that could make me feel like a child again Let me kiss Nyime Owa Eleme, that beautiful lady of my dream Let me lay her down on my bedside and make life worthwhile I want to go back home and see the sunshine with it's illuminous rays and the tender droplets of the rain Oh Please take me back to Alode Please take me back to Alode Take me back to Alode Let me touch your borders From Alesa to Ogale From Echieta to Onne and From Ebubu to the Onu Nmu where they say the hands cannot reach I want to touch the land of Alode I want to touch the Eleme soil I want to touch the soft green grasses of home Written by Jonah Okpabi
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72
**you must pull yourself up from the depths of despair** grab onto tar like walls that make your grip unsteady and force your way past and up the slippery facade of dark skepticism and worry slowly make your way towards the point of brightness above you if you falter start again don't give up don't give in and in time with determination and a strong desire you will reach the illuminous expanse of peace harmony and self love.
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Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 8:00 PM UTC
a worthwhile journey
Gods expectorant unfrocking priests Heavens elixir epitomising the broken lamp of truth Purging the liasing humours of bane angels Enlightening deaths harbinger conjuring berevity Under colour of nothingness as shadows birth Unabated yonder the gate of unfoldenment Billowing illuminous damnation as Black as thunder unforetold expelling Transgressions red-letter day, conquested Deciduously in the teeth of the wind Extinguishing hand over fist corrupt valedictorianism Delving hell for levity eluding the copious Breaking butterflies on the wheel Of righteousness conspiring as sure as God made little apples to show The vale cloven hoof woe betide The tope of man friday
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Dec 19, 2017
Dec 19, 2017 at 8:12 PM UTC
Felled
Well thats a use of time you think Worth spending night for Going places in your thoughts Watching all time stop knot Echoes enchanted in your ears Colours blasted in your brain Damaged to beauty Edge of those pre explored corners Everything jumps upon Leaf to leaf, stand to stand Trials of landed ground of prosperity A possibility of changed colours A realm of illuminous lights Iridescent fights for the brightest one continues Yet a peaceful clear view Infinite patterns of schemes of ashes Or the full world of tranches Decide to take up or to take down The way of living or the leaving. On a scattered highway of rearranged thoughts All was it, it was all And in the end colours got brighter and clearer.
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Jan 23, 2017
Jan 23, 2017 at 12:22 PM UTC
DEEP PEACE
I’d like to think I am a force light ‘fusing to spark ‘ as dull is my presence’ deep within me is a light ‘ a light of hope that keeps me thriving ‘ a light of peace’ all forming into this combustion’s energy’ finding its way into a million stars ‘ as I form into this beautiful’ gleam .all that was negative is burned by the beauty of my ray ‘ all that was painful is decore with the illuminous of love
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Oct 5, 2021
Oct 5, 2021 at 4:57 AM UTC
I