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Raphael Uzor May 2014
The intermittent, distant rumbling in the skies was suggestive of chronic flatulence. The sun struggled in futility to shine – like a crying child who had been forced to smile. Lightning flashed in quick successions, momentarily throwing brilliant streaks of white light across the room. The angry growl of thunder that followed was enough to send a troop of Howler monkeys scampering for safety.

The lights flickered as though unable to make up their minds to stay or not to. But apparently, the wind had zero tolerance for such petty indecisiveness. And like an enraged, stimulated, demented animal, it gusted through the windows and doors, hauling loose papers, light bulbs in every direction, shattering the bulbs to smithereens, as if to punish them for being so fickle. The lights died.

Thick black blankets eerily stretched across the skies with gusto, menacingly extinguishing whatever was left of the sun’s brilliance. More rumbles and flashes followed in royal herald of the impending storm. And in no time, slick sheets of rain torrentially came pouring down, cascading the roofs to form puddles almost as soon as they hit the ground.

​I looked in horror, fervently praying that whoever God had appointed to build the ark in our time had not diverted the funds. I was trapped in the office, and I knew exactly what this meant…flood, scarcity of buses, hiked transport fares, heavy taffic and very likely, at least one month of blackout.
It would be another three hours of steady downpour before the rain eventually stopped, as gracefully as it had been ushered in.
I picked up my bag, rolled up my trousers in earnest anticipation of the inevitable flood, and made my way home.

​To my utter bewilderment, there were no floods! The lights from the street lamps cast a soft golden glow on the slick roads, seemingly creating mirages of pools of water from afar off. But they were mere illusions. The gurgling sound coming from the underground drainage was proof of where all the water had gone. It was a strange sight. Like some alien cyborg from space had been fiddling with a time machine that had accidentally propelled us twenty years into the future.

My new world was a three-fold utopian dream. So surreal!
I could see beautiful, high-rise, state of the art edifices with mind-blowing architectural designs that blatantly seemed to defy the laws of gravity. I could see world-class hospitals that admitted ailing dignitaries from around the world and top-notch schools that offered scholarships to deserving indigenous and international students.
Sure enough, this was Nigeria! The Nigeria we all dreamed of.

And there was light…electricity! - In myriad of colours that seemed to have been dispersed from several colossal disco ***** via *“wireless fidelity”
technology. I strained to hear the noise from generators, but I was disappointed. I couldn’t even hear the all too familiar cacophony of horns blaring, conductors shouting, loud discordant music, rattling vehicle engines etc. It was like everyone and everything had taken a crash course on orderliness.

I saw a vibrant transportation system that included high speed railway lines, paved road networks that looked like a child’s doodles, first-class air strips and efficient sea transportation.
I saw a working government - one that had provided the critical infrastructure for her people.

I saw a nation with a large industrialized economy, where the dividends of democracy had been delivered to the people by their government. One consciously founded on equity and honesty of purpose, and courageously sustained by unfaltering faithfulness and unwavering patriotism.      
A nation whose economic boost did not come solely from crude oil exploration and production, but also from crude oil refining, agriculture, manufacturing, infrastructure, food, services, tourism, automobiles, transportation, education etc.
A nation that thronged with international investors from all walks of life, who were not in the least afraid to invest in her.

And then, I saw her people. A people proud of their citizenship.
A people proud to be called NIGERIANS.
A people who were not given to religious, political, or tribal bigotry.
A people who individually and collectively, gallantly bore the torch of the vision of their heroes past.
A people who earnestly and persistently worked to see only goods “Made in Nigeria” sold in their markets.

Where there was once despair, I saw hope. Where there was once fear, i saw security. Where there was once disgruntlement, I saw satisfaction. Where there was once poverty, I saw wealth opportunities and where there was unemployment, I saw jobs. Death had given way to life and life to hope.

I started, as I felt something cold and wet trickle down my forehead. It was droplets of rain from a leak in the roof just above my head. I was still in my office, I never left. The rain had lulled me to sleep. Even more sadly, I realized it had all been a dream.
Slowly and regretfully, I packed my things and left for home. It was pitch black outside as I carefully waded through the polluted waters, jauntily holding my bag, more because I was afraid to lose it in the flood than in a hopeless bid to dignify the situation.

Two hours later, I crawled into bed. I did not have to turn the lights off…the electric poles had gone for a swim. A very long one.



© ONUGHA EBELE VICTORIA
This is NOT my work, but I found it amazingly share worthy.
CasiDia Jul 2018
:・゚✧:・゚✧:・゚✧:・゚✧:・゚✧:・゚✧:・゚✧:・゚✧:・゚✧:・゚✧:・゚✧:・゚✧
    ­                                                                 ­       the day ends
                                                            ­             singing to us
                                                              ­         ourselves to
                                                              ­       each-other
                                                      ­             of the hour
                                                            ­     to a minute
                                                          ­    on the clock
                                                           ­we drink roses
                                                        for fading embers
                                                        th­e burning match
                                                         th­at proverbial breath
                                                          ­      the familiar pull
                                                            ­      towards dreams
                                                          ­          towards sorrow
                                                          ­                       the pain
                                                            ­                        the joy
                                                             ­                          from
                                                            ­                         dust
                                                         ­                            to
                                                                ­               dust
                                                            ­              emptiness
                                         ­                             orderliness
                        ­                                         indifference
                                                    ­    mounds of gold
                                                    ignorant­ shiny
                                                 pile of ashes
                                               enlightened
­                                            afterthought
        ­                                 in the morning
                                        in the evening
                                        all the beauty
                                         is all suffering
                                          living forever
                                           dying together
                                             hands over fists
:・゚✧:・゚✧:・゚✧:・゚✧:・゚✧:・゚:・゚✧:・゚✧:・゚✧:・゚
Hal Loyd Denton Jul 2013
Precious may the hard veil of widowhood be drawn back at least for the time you read this

Secret location of Oline Indain sacred ground marriage and burial ceremony  in proximity of Carmel Ca it is a natural place first and foremost but you can see the
Orderliness of man’s hand not much is disturbed it would be foolish to mess with perfection but the sea
Side flowers they stand five feet tall and at the top they plume into the most perfect white well these
Are laced around this half circle horse shoe a perfect concert pavilion and by placing them like military
Troops evenly across and then line after line one in front of the other what trembling glory when the sea
Breeze enters its like it says pardon you won’t mind look at this as it moves ever higher it like seeing the
White gowned saints in worship as they undulate and sway in unison by this great tender moist hand
From deep rich waters what bedevilment is on display that is the back and then across the white sand
Two hundred feet table top smooth this bed that soothes your feet to the point relaxation travels up the
Whole of your body this is a natural fixing of tension dispelling any thoughts of frowns and at both ends
You have identical cliffs that tower in the sky you find yourself in the center looking at one and then the
Other at nature’s perfect handy work I found its good you are standing and are cradled by a soft face of
Sand because as you peer at the lofty heights at times you can have dizziness over take you and you
Topple over know harm now you can set and study the plant life that flourishes as it shares its life with
The rocks especially the scrub bushes how they twist and give a bitter smile through knarled prickly
Shoots but how they amaze when they have such a small tenacious hold and as you find yourself finding
How much you admire them your mind and soul understands and feels how you know the feeling of
Their scraping that has removed some unwanted mire on the order of the barnacles that attach them
Selves to great ships and great fish with this cleaning of negative thought now free you turn to the
Climate of mood stirrings nowhere else can do it like the sea and the haven it provides you bank afire
Outside up against the cliff not in your sea side shack this is the time to muse and it is the time when
Guest come the whispered name of this cove is the cove of lost loves the waves break gently and rush
Over the beach when they approach the water mixes’ with the moon light a different white is mingled
The mystery of all that distance and the darkness it has pierced and then to come to this place in
Particular with the rhythm of eternal knowing that only the sea can know just beyond the breakwaters I
Know they are coming because it is always preceded by a great misty cloud then it appears a schooner
Fast and sleek several sails that draws your mind to them they are there festooned in glory tonight
Someone from home I can’t tell you how but their spirits come this is the breaking waters that have one
Purpose they draw to gather here to touch the broken hearts hear heaven speaks at lands end it
Matches their situation they come bound by tearful sorrow of loss and separation here they wear a
Garland of flowers they are unique and are only found here the moment they are placed on their head
As long as they wear them all memories of death is erased and the only knowledge they have is the
Flood stage of first love how it felt and what it meant Iva and terry has this surging through great
Coursing torrents the sea pulls from one side the land calls with familiar sights and sounds they swirl in
Love’s boundless waters they wear cloth like white terry cloth airy as the thoughts that holds them in
Richest peace you can look in the eyes of the one you love anyplace but when death has laid its heavy
Hand on a life then you need this secret place that is so powerful it can leave Iva at home and leave
Terry peacefully sleeping but here they can move with the eternal rhythms outside normal existence
Breathe taste the sea air it’s uncommon as we really are inland you are confined by a rigid reality come
Among glory first hand it will begin to break earths hold and you can soar and walk hand in hand with
The Acute loss that plagues you holds one another by the fire it is the soul and spirit that we truly love
Look to The sea be renewed on these shadowed calm waters the privacy of them are for you both the
Sea is Generous it provides abundantly now it flows with gentle tenderness it awakens souls that are
Adrift it gives a cherished refreshing to those who the Bain of death has burned with a fiery sorrow here
The sand is more than cool and wet your steps will include visions prepared before the earth cooled it
Will give new stronger perspective brush through the willow that hangs laden with the moisture of the
Sea within its shelter take notice of its spines bending divinely as they create a shelter of benevolence
May you Iva and Terry also find a brief reunited happiness in this sheltered cove in the midst of a golden
State where wonder is possible
'Yomi B Mar 2011
Sincerity is my watchword
Orderliness is my way of life
Loyalty is my duty
Discipline is my foundation
Integrity is all I have
Excellence, for it i strive
Rights? I have none.
Eleete j Muir Aug 2013
Bellicose angels chanter,"Never  
Was and never more," upon
The totian breeze with clarity of peace;
A peregrine requitement of
Effulgent obsequies, tempered
With melancholy tortuously
Fetching lost codices whilst
Careening stars-of-Bethlehem
Nonchalantly whithersoever,
A parable of presence
A dirge paramount; perdurable
To the transcription of the
Orderliness Of Orcus'- unabridged,
The final heavenly sonnet.







ELEETE J MUIR.
maybella snow Jun 2013
i've become like a rubix cube
i am placed in the cupboard        
to be taken out on occasion
and put in a disarray  
twisted                                    
turned    ­          
confused                          
  
   just to be put back    
only after being caused more            
damage

after once again being
re-accommodated                
to the lonely cupboard

someone else                                
with obvious time to pass
clasps their hands on me              
only to expenditure
their fancied time on me

but once again                  
being returned into the loneliness
of the cupboard

waiting for the day
when someone else finds me        
dusts me off                                  
and returns me
to my initial state of orderliness

colour co-ordinated      
and whole

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-
Miguel Diaz Jun 2016
Maiden and Observer

As speculated,
The observer and the scientist
See an enigmatic entrance.

The arrival of the specimen:
He shows haste,
His wrist flickers:
Punctuality.
He mouthes questions of career:
Orderliness.
His vocal appetite silent:
Surrender.
He declares instruction:
Superiority.
He brightens athleticism.
Focus.

The smile appears through
in the unknownest places,
Within restaurant doors,
Through the soundwaves.
Through ideations:
Competitive movement.

Inertia and stagnation is of disinterest.
Wordly reflection produces empty reciprocration.
Can it be a metaphor for the observer,
Can the specimen by the symbol?
Both reflected from one another.

There is the one,
and then, the other.
The challenge is:
Exhibiting both states
Simultaenously.
This is the task of the maiden.
The balancer of scales.

The scientist seeks to understand,
There is evidence of somes sort
A hidden bliss a smile inside,
a moment of analysis.
Notions brought on by previous experiments.
Past failures predict present outcome,
Recent knowledge or estimation?
Emotion links to reason,
Reason negotiates but stands firm,
The scientist is fatigued, his hand lowers.
Body language is lazily interpreted by curious Observer,
Studying this new behaviour.

The professor places his spectacles on,
He sees no other path to take,
He concludes and hypothesises,
This specimen can be learnt from
No more.

Specimen's silence allows flowing thoughts to pervade the mind of the observer and the scientist.
Silence given to the cynicism of life,
the broadened mind
perceived as narrow.
The observer is observed.
Now conciousness changes in the realm of the user experiencing himself.
Self perception, self defense,
Guard is raised,
Gates are closed.
Only water flows through,
Other matter obstructed.

Maiden, Observer, Scientist, Specimen.
There are themes of quantum physics, "The Secret", new age philosophy, pseudoscience and metaphysics in this poem. Interpret it as you will.
Tick tock tick tock
The seconds hand of the clock
Ceaselessly goes round,
It doesn’t know to stop
As the moments gallop
Stretches time without bound.
Tick tock tick tock
The seconds hand of the clock
Sweeps time without rest,
It doesn’t know to pause
Cannot break the laws
It can’t slow down or haste.
Tick tock tick tock
The seconds hand of the clock
Counts the time in motion,
It moves on ruthless
In a cruel orderliness
With no touch of emotion!
Dexter Terzungwe Sep 2016
This is Tina, she's my kid sister.
Over there is Joseph and Paul, they are twin siblings, our next door neighbors.
Next to them is Christy, blush she lives two streets down the street.
We are playing WHOT in my house.
Yes, Whot.
It's a card game that most parents won't let their kids play;
My dad included
But he is at work at the moment.
Dad is very strict.
Whenever he is home,
My friends aren't allowed to come over unless we are going to study, and under his supervision.
Suddenly we hear his car honking at the gate,
There's panic and turmoil in the living room.
Whot cards are flying around and empty Oreos packs are being thrown into the trash bag.
Empty juice cups are being taken to be washed in the kitchen.
There's an avalanche in here and the result is orderliness.
By the time dad steps in,
We're all settled around the study table,"reading."
Oh God, no!
There's the 20 Whot card on the table.
Dad has seen it and he is coming over.
He has a scowl on his face and I know that look; we're all getting a good beating.
The last time we were flogged, Tina wet herself.
Dad comes over, he looks at each one of us,
Then in his deep, baritone voice, he asks:
"Have you eaten?"
My shoulders sag,
I am defeated.
Today cant be April fool's day.
To all those that were flogged as kids and to those that never got to experience it, this is what it felt like. The fear, the knowing, the anticipation and the "wait."
Lately
I wear matching socks
On my feet
Ending at the ankle
Not at the knee
Where they used to be.
Laundry clean
All dishes sparkling
My apartments pristine
My car windshield bug-free
Not a single fast food wrapper
In the passenger seat
and my gas gauge never falls below
Half empty.
I no longer find enjoyment in
My life mirroring a circus
Everything has a place
And is fully fulfilling its purpose.
Most take my orderliness
As ambitiousness
A testament to
My diligence
When it's simply a need
For my life and mind to be
An antithesis.
DROP THAT SUICIDE IDEA, MY LOVE IS FOR YOU

Alexander K Opicho
(Eldoret, Kenya;aopicho@yahoo.com)

As young as you are and beautiful as you do
You want to **** yourself, why my dear love?
Drop that suicide idea for it’s not godly
It is devilish in origin emanating from the baseness
Of you unguarded consciounsseness
Don’t **** yourself today for tomorrow is yours
Days to come are desperately the protégés
Of the power in your beauty and vastness of your life
It is only today that a snag has popped up in the tumbler of your life
But like foamish bubble it is bound to go, go and leave you free
It is in the wise orderliness of natural reality that you endure today
Challenges, tribulations and trial-some conditions that you are seeing
But my dear queen, accept them all breathe in deep and look yonder
Behold the robust life in your bust in the blessed land
That will nurse plummage of your glory and the helm of your purpose,
Ignore them all that have condemned you to trauma
All of them ignore them, be they whatsoever they are ;
Poverty
Race
Colour
Gender
Tribe
Loss
Mayhem
Deformity
Shame
Ra­pe
Crime
Love
Disease
Job
Toxic friends
Marriage
Ignore them all, they are only lemonizig you
Because they are not the chief purpose of your life
If you **** yourself because of them
You would have duferishly goofed
Because they are not what you were born for
Your own turf is coming tomorrow
Kindly drop the tools of suicide from your hands
And wait for them they will come tomorrow
It is not far, only one night to come.
Ces Sep 2020
And suddenly, the bed was made!
The windows, gleaming with cleanliness
The clothes hanged well
All in their proper places.

How I wonder how she does it
Keeping things in order as if it's magic
This finesse of orderliness
I cannot seem to mimic.

Our marriage is like that:
Between a pretty damsel and an ogre
She makes a home out of a house
It's hard to imitate her.
jide oyediran Dec 2015
Bring me the sit of citadel diamond
I will sit on it like a king on the throne
We crept in the sea of thoughtfulness
Forgetting that some day the sea can dry off
The sea  whistles  and reminds us to be focus
Of course focus stand for full commitment,
I will like to remind you about that.
If you don't know, it also brings orderliness
We strife to be focus because
Our usefulness is for the masses
We build our focus on the verge of death
That at some point we won't be afraid to die
Our dreams and aspirations cries out to us
Like a catholic pendulum
We promise the world to hear the bell
I already said it, in patience
My empire like a VLC player
We don't quit till we exceed the volume point.
Inspired by 23rd dec. . .
AFRICA

I Pondered
What's African
Time.⌚
I came to
realization,
why Africa
is yet
lacking
behind.

Because
there's
no room for
orderliness.
So God
also use
African time
to answer us.
So sad 😔
What a pity
Africa! 😔
Are you
dead or slept
so deeply?
Wake up
now Africa!
Don't be
ignorant...
Alike the
other part of
the world
wake up!
Watch your
children and
their children
with their
children's
children dying.
Hearken now
where you're
laying. Picture
your brethren
growing,
extraordinarily
expanding.
Their
descendants
succeeding,
living happily.
Africa
don't be a
black sheep,
enough you
creep,
African got
to think deep.
Or else there
would be no
sleep
in your eye in
the nearest
future.
Because all
your
untrained kids
wouldn't let
you
rest upon
your peace.
Honesty is the best policies.
Train your child to be honest.
#c9_fm
Universe Poems May 2023
Women
Inequality
No one likes
Rightness
No one likes
Orderliness
Ancient concepts of truth,
balance, order,
harmony, law,
morality, and justice,
touched the point,
and the pyramid floor
I will wear my ostrich feathers,
with truth
Regulate the stars, seasons,
and the actions of mortals
Order from chaos
From the moment of creation,
my art wings,
were authentically replicated
The key of the nile,
is ancient and sacred

© 2023 Carol Natasha Diviney
I was the perfect bore

Grace that with diligent perfections

I understood orderliness in all situations

It was all about getting to the right stage

So I staged my whole life on a career platform

Until you came,you led me to a different path

Showed me the strength in imperfections

Guide me to the beauty in making mistakes

The light beckons in me

So I see the ray of light in every darkness

It all started with a spark

Sparkled by the glittering mirth

Fueled by the unperturbed emotions

Lightened by your touches and kisses

As I navigate  my hands through your body

Feeling  all the indentations and the curves in the right modifications

The touch of my lips,rested on the most sensitive part of your body

Burn all the sense in me to absolute nonsense

In that nonsense flame,I 'm filled with strange convictions

you set a static life into motion

Suddenly a strange sound came into place

And that the sound of my alarm

Woke me up into reality

What a sadistic way  to end a moment of brilliance

A strange desire

Just for you
SURETICE TONGUE Jun 2018
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6 of 184

Majesty's Thereupon
COUCH ALLENS
Apr 10
to j_blayze2002
Majesty’s Thereupon

Region wifery taken role witnesses smart

Forthwith ‘ Sufficient’ Sureties wedlock confraternity

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Sessions same facets subsequence crown intends before

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Retaining the unpredictable  ‘Co-Existence’ of Overalls/ Inhabitants

‘One-Litre’-Imagination Drills….’

PORTAL MADE INSURANCE GAZETTE  ' SPEAR EARNS...'













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Joel L Langham Jul 2021
A quite hangs in the air
Like a soft mist envelope
Streams of light flow intermittently
Why do I return
What brings me back to this place
I long to be reacquainted
Solitude brings great solace
Greet me old friend
With your tranquil rows
Orderliness unparalleled
I am humbled by your symmetry
Calm uniformity dances in the morning light
Saying goodbye is always difficult
I will keep this brave face
May this world reward you with peace
I will return soon
Shivpriya Dec 2019
My few achromatic
feelings!!
I think I will lose my world if
I forget about you!

Come inside my lamenting
heart!
O romanticist!
My heart shed tears like separation
needs the higher latitude and
the season needs the quality of
warmth which can adequately
embrace this distressed heart!

Basically, it is beauteous that
there is no orderliness required
to limn the capacity for emotions.
However, the thoughtfulness is revived!

-My arrivederci to you!

Shivpriya
#shivpoetesspriya
Living is a refurnace fire
in the awaken age
oh thou sweet fellowship of meditation
& the satisfying worship of supplication
the highest form of medication
(Maintenance & protection of balance & virtue).

They who acknowledge principle
will avoid all extremes
& appraise living in equity.

Come to my lake of living fire,
all of you who ignores the ways of the ant
come & refine your mind
as pure gold with furnace removing dross.
 
As wine poured out of a new wineskin
yes, of wine served only to noble'
so are the sayings of the wise.

Who has gathered the curious song
of every gale of the wind
properly adorning his garden
free from distortion,
beyond time's winged chariot.

Words are life,
and silence is priceless,
so listen carefully as much as you can.
for pure care to reign
in your abode.

As seduction is to death
so also is truth;
as a cool breeze of the day.

Understanding is calm & joyous
love is care & happiness
peace is cheerful & comfortable
wisdom is comely & sweet,

Every word of the enlightened one
is flawless,
everyone who comes
must be silent
or only ask of thy Creator's will.

Wonderful counsel
In the Promised Land
're as pure silver to the moralist
& a perfect gold to the literate,
It's morning is as a sure milky sun
It's evening a true honey moon.
Eternally wiping away
all awry days
as an oasis of happiness
to the thirst.

If your mind is ill
treat your innermost sight and see,
the eyes is the lamp of the body
if the eyes are dull
the whole body will be darkness,
a blind cannot lead the blind!

Oh, sad I see
yes, far I see
the path of all who breaks principles
& the time when the cup of their consequences runs over
yes even a time as this.
their season is called
evil under the sun!

Where men are guided by principles
& Orderliness leads every heart
there's no need for many prayers
or rebuke,
but there is an illitracy of Ignorance display
I have seen.
they who do not count their stones
before they build,
thinks they'll be heard by many words.


He who loves pleasure plays with his life
he who loves pleasure pays with his life
he who loves pleasure is never satisfied
they who craves heavenly gain
seek no earthly vain,
just a little piece of advice.
Norbert Tasev Oct 2020
You said you knew me! Just look boldly at my humble abode: With the gradual orderliness and cleanliness arranged, you can't find any clues that I can sometimes speak to myself my vocal cords, a secret, inner room, with a strange mutter! My manuscripts and my mother can know my fleeting fads, my laughable rhymes - but only my mother knows me! A disciplined army of my folded feathers standing guarding may know the furry forest, the jungle bushes of my chunky hands, but really even they couldn't solve the eternal mystery about me: Why am I thirsting for loneliness, loneliness condemned to fertility?

Even so, I still like the shady sides of incognito, and despite my great hall, I avoid being noticed! I am still researching, discovering in myself the essence and content that I thought was led away, but my inner being is the constant doubt and despair itself!

I have countless secrets! I'm a survivor! The ancient hiding place, whose survival has become survival at all costs! Therefore, how can anyone imagine that he could have seen me without a thorough mapping of the inner soul-hall? "So next time I can only afford someone who has no back, sneaky intent,"

and it can't be - but whose mind is more understanding and whose heart is nobler when it beats, and who accepts my stupidly mature blunders, my little boy's dreads, half-truths! “Even in my heart, his hopeless troubadour, romantic son-in-law is hiding.

— The End —