Wednesday, August 17, 2011

A THIN LINE

A THIN LINE
Everything in life is a thing line,
It's like the pop of a bottle of red wine,
Ain't a Frank Edoho show where u get three lifelines,
Ain't a bar where u get ur martini with a slice of lime.

A thin line between freedom and getting caged,
A thin line between being a virgin and getting laid,
Being broke and getting paid,
Winning a hand with the ace of spades.

Life's a black and white picture,
whether urs is a gloomy or a bright future,
it suprises u like an epileptic seizure,
every depends on God , like a surgeon performing sutures.

Some say it's fate, others say have faith,
fate is what is dished to you ona a plate,
like when Leo met Kate on the titanic,
wouldn't have mattered if one was black or hispanic,
whether the ship was small or gigantic,
being from opposite sides made it more romantic.

Same goes for Romeo and Juliet
what a combination, the duet,
what a sad end, they met,
a thin line between life and death.

A thin line between love and hate,
betrayal of being used as bait,
a blind man putting on stevie wonder's shades,
viewing the world in a different perpective,
unborn babies avoided using contraceptives,
i wonder if we're in any way sensitive.

A thin line between the first snort and addiction,
the difference between a true story and a fiction,
'Why do fools fall in love' was an instance,
spotted Amy Winehouse from a far distance,
Singing she didn't wanna go to rehab,
but the will not to, she didn't have.

A thin line between penetration and ejaculation,
after an orgasm comes a moan of satisfaction,
folks at home told me about protection,
paid the price when i didn't heed to correction,
ended up stepping into Magic Johnson's shoes,
got to hustle hard to pay ma dues,
always be faithful and speak the truth,
'remember the Lord in the days of thy youth'.

It's a thin line between heaven and hell,
where we end up only time will tell,
here I sign out wishing everybody well,
remember the slogan 'saved by the bell'.

DING DONG!

Walls of my mind are caving in
nightmares where dreams have been
plans unwinds so fast in the head
but it slowly plays out instead
the inevitable race to success
through the swamps, forests and the wilderness
survival; the focus of the brain
what a task it is to make a name
the picture has to fit in the frame
pain is gain
pain is slow
gain should grow
gain is a slow painful growth
patience is everyone's friendly foe
oppression makes you pout
depression frees your doubt
pressure from folks
fierce heat from the stove
answers is their question
not certain enough, never mention
the door opens up to hopelessness
bubbling to the surface is restlessness
but there's never a shortcut to happiness.

IFE....bi eji owuro...

the stillness of a lake,
the ripples of a wave,
eerie silence of a grave,
Oh! what a love He gave.
His only begotten son, Jesus Christ,
to redeem us, death was the price,
suffering on the cross, it wasn't nice,
shame to the devil, He don arise.

Love, a four-letter word,
experienced by everything in this world,
a parent's love for a child,
a groom's love for his bride,
a blind man's cane as his guide,
check out the animals of the wild,
secret lovers when they hide,
mating couples when they bind,
love is not cruel, it is kind.
Comes in different shapes and sizes,
associated with huge sacrifices,
also with great prizes.

From Naija with love,
yhemie says 'No glove, no love',
to every lady recieving a hug,
to every sex-starved thug,
say no to drugs,
stay 'snug like a bug in a rug'.
Never dismiss words of wisdom with a shrug.
Hold them tight and never let go,
cos when u'll need them u never know.
Every morning the cock crows,
every month-end the moon glows,
may luck take us to where we wanna go.
A hater's grudge,
a lover's nudge,
the strong won't budge,
till he reaches the top.
Love one another,
whatever the weather,
cos tommorow is not promised today, my brother.
Everybody's aging,
it's high time I did my bading,
the ink in my pen is fading....,
gotta go see a girl i'm dating,
go get yours, no hating.

THE WAY IT LOOKS...

poverty has a look....ugly frowns, scowls...it is sarcastic.
it has charisma, a poise...it's contented
it's defensive...offensive and superstitous
poverty is loud
loves tha crowd
it feeds on the mind
trying to clone everyone to its kind
it's pathetic...spread from the mind to the appearance
it is religious..a re-orentation
a rebel...the devil...
a chronic disease..mind cancer
it has complex....very inferior
it looks through you....
stop it and say boo!!!!!

...FOR THE LOVE OF NAIJA MUSIC...

A baby butterfly breaking out of its cocoon and it's steadily growing bigger. A constant feed of talents coming its way enlarging its abdomen. Different splashes of colours appearing on the wings, making it appear more beautiful against the glaring sun of the World Music Industry in general. Desperately trying on many things just to find what i'd term 'our stlye', we have flown in many directions...wrong ones, right ones, all with the one aim of getting worldwide recognition and respect.
The industry had managed to stay feebly active through our own local music; the likes of Fuji, Juju, Afrobeat e.t.c. the public was hungry for change, we were bored. I must not forget to point out that the brands went far, they got the recognition and respect worldwide, the kind that our newly found 'adapted' type of music desperately crave for,snatching nominations during grand awards. They passed the test of time, they are vintage classics getting new meanings, translations and appreciation as decades rolled by.
Styles emerged like football players charging into the pitch, fresh, new and raw, fueling the wobbly legs with strength and hope. The dance and groovy style emerged first in the race with the others tolling in its wake. The acceptance of the leading style by the public was enormous, it contained more of rhythm, rhythm sells more here in Nigeria at the moment. Most of the songs are lyrically dead, rhythm falls victim to time, chips away at it until it is extinct. Production called attention ( let me mention that it's getting better and bigger), without it the industry would stand at ease. this part of music plays a huge role in shaping up styles. It teaches you to listen to the rhythm and appreciate the creativity, unfortunately here in Nigeria, it had made both the top and upcoming artists weak lyrically. The trend now is; get good production, throw in some slangs and back it up by shooting a tight video abroad and you have arrived.
A good combination of both lyrics and rhythm create classics, classics gets recognized, classics wins awards, classics make legends. We have a few new classics to our name, you will know a classic album when you hear one... take the dreadlock princess for your example.... Kudos to our International stars repping us outside the continent, though not all are lyrical enough (moi opinion, folks). They got what it takes, they could be better, but most of the top nigerian musicians make music from the head not from the heart, the head puts the quid first, while the heart puts the music first.
The commercial acceptance of the style brought the conclusion that maybe we've eventually arrived at our destination...we got a style! We don't officially have a name for it, but for now it is termed 'naija dancehall', i think.
Can these hit songs stand time? Okay, we now have former hit songs we call 'old school', but to be frank when you listen now, it's more of comedy than songs....it's so empty. We are at a junction where junks are starting to be recognized, though the song may be groovy at the moment, meaning eludes quickly.
For the love and the growth of 'naija music'...... put the music first, then the quid follows. Whatever we call our style, we shouldn't have boundaries......every part of the industry should grow, not some. We'll be huge on the World Music Map, joining the likes of the Latinos, Jamaicans and even surpassing them. Let's tell the world that 'we are here!' If we shout loudly enough, we'll be heard.

MICHAEL JACKSON.....my tribute.

everyone's favorite
discovered by Gladys Knight
led the other four
bled talent from every pore
we all wanted a part
from his hat to his fart
public love begat public hate
to the diamond studded glove that was his fate
he moonwalked to the highest of peaks
brought down and made bait by the paparazzi's beaks
wrong decisions tripped him
we judged him......we ripped him
with his condemned plastic surgeries
he surpassed boundaries
accusations of molestations
no charge made the invitation
he was a thriller
a music healer
turned white by lupus and vitiligo
we painted his soul black as we go
his pain was our joy
him in chains was our toy
to make him vain was our ploy
blind to his agony
saw to his downfall in harmony
down he went in the game
nothing could put the picture back in its frame
now death took away the shame
gave fame back to the disgraced name
it brought him back to life
took him in as a man would a wife
cancer was the zodiac
that got arrested by cardiac
Oh Michael......
we gave you hell
you wanted to heal the world
we all refused your drug
'twas too bitter
now all we do is sell ourselves on twitter
forgive us Mike...we loved you too much
folks,...our king of pop ran outta luck
shame on us
shame on the world...
the blame is on us
the blame is on the world...
you are free now..
you took your last bow...
rest in peace
that's my final diss...
if his death wrinkled your brow in worry,
join me in saying sorry..

Michael's Words......(Will you be there?)

..in my darkest hour
in my deepest despair
would you still care???
will you be there???
in my trials
and my tribulations
through our doubts
and perspirations
in my violence
and my turbulence
through my fears
and my confessions
in my anguish
and my pain
through my joy
and my sorrow
and the promise of another tomorrow
i'll never let you part
you're always in my heart....

THE CYCLE OF A CIRCLE

'its a boy' the doc said
mirth grinned wide from the bed
a cry rose in its stead
burps and gurgles after well-fed
'Mama'... crawling around with crap on his bum
white teeth pushing outta pink gums
breastmilk to cereals
sight made him see real
'A' for apple, 'B' for bus
learning follows thus
time ran into years
he knew laughter, he met tears
Ding Dong....... puberty's home
Welcome......i like your tone
'Dad, i got a hard-on'
'you are a dude, come on!'
hormones kicks in
welcome to the hotel inn
responsibility makes you bend
tada! you just got more fees to fend
you job for your purse
cruel blessings of a curse
you gain your loss
gotta hustle to floss
here comes the spouse
a major brick in your house
priests and vows at the altar
what He fixes, never alter
honeymoon combines glands and fluids
wet and slimy like squids
barley and hops on cue
the beer began to brew
i fill a lil' sick
mornings makes my nerves tick
a scary retching flick
the swell and the constant kick
might be a pussy or a dick
hydrating when the water broke
a smack on the butt brought the croak
worn and weary, she looked up from the bed...
'it's a boy' the doc said.

SLITHERY HOPE 1

He’s in search of an identity. He’s false….a failure perhaps, he concludes with a sad spread of the lips, totally mirthless. A hypocrite to be exact, a fake ... the musky stench of pretence following him around. A stale humorless joke for a human, the lies are catching up…the cover will soon be blown, the truth straining hard to be known. The once firm foundation of the former crumbling under the persistent weight of the latter…he knows both, created both, though he had help from family & friends, outsiders & enemies…everyone with an opinion; supporting, criticizing…steadily and gradually helping to unconsciously carve out a reality or maybe a hallucination. 

Now he stumbles down his streets, fuzzy with uncertainty assuring a dominant glum expression, burdened with trying to drag his messy past into the ruining present in the hope of a perfect predicted future.
It is dark, the silence creeps loudly up his spine, sweaty palms reaches out wishing for just a wet little splash of heaven in a very dry hot hell…
…a light flickered on…
‘If I can hold on, maybe…’ the thought grew on the commencement of a sequel.

SLITHERY HOPE 2

Little buds of perspiration popped up on her forehead, they pooled up and slowly rolled south the left side of her face…tickling and trickling down the fact that she’s been holding on for a while now…her palms all red and raw, eyes haunted by what they saw. Everyone always wants more, we try and try to stop everything from becoming a bore; alcohol, drugs and sex are ways out… easy deadly ones. A satisfactory object she’s been labelled…a sample for every new experiment, disposable matter…ordinary says it all, a loud call. She aint male, just the second act in a tale, success doesn’t patronize failure; sharp compliments the edges of a blade with allure…
 

‘The light aint stable…’ A hot iron rod prodded her mind, ‘…unpredictable’. 

It burnt in ‘uncertainty’ .Decisions twirls wildly in life’s whirlwind; materialism fakes excuses for embarrassing, shameful actions…engines of sight wins a tricky hand, the right groovy beat resonates from a wrong band…exciting yet bland.
Sweat dripped into her eyes, it stung, making them bloodshot…the weary limbs slipped down a notch, the muscles ache… ‘Oh, what pain they make.’ Letting go defies caution, but it seems to be her only option.
 

‘you’re almost there…’ echoed faintly, competing weakly with the ever scratching, disturbing noise of giving up…
the choice she made paled with the end of the tale.

THE BELLS IN MY HELL

in the land of buts
fought my thoughts
anticipation screamed hard
joy seemed sad
panic hovered around
confidence cowered at its sound
nails tore at my mind
fear explored my find
blood smeared my vision
pain clouded my reason
insanity tottered….
brilliancy mattered…more
itching a ripe sore
questions rape my intellect
rained down hard pellets
a cycle it is
life aint bliss
a barren outcome
the cake lost a crumb
genius strikes out with its lunacy
interest is friends with apathy
paranoia rolled heads
the litmus turned red
fire, ash and brimstone
aint safe, aint prone
change leeched on plans
the white ones got a tan
real life made fake people
the cell brought along the sickle
black dreams lure insomnia
my devil is me
thy demons is within thee
winning, stealing, dealing
tasking, taxing, billing
the angels are scared
the battle got them marred.

MOTIVATIONAL FREESTYLE

Motivational Freestyle.....

by Yhemie Eniolorunda on Thursday, February 25, 2010 at 3:03pm
Move
follow the groove
make change happen
make Adam pluck the apple
think
change happens in a blink
manipulate its psych like a shrink
explore
itch the sore
ignore bore
crave for more
fight
for what’s right
wrong flees in fright
truth
shove false in the nude
don’t lie, don’t be a brute
dare
draw far boundaries near
scream courage at fear
proceed
sow the seed
grow your greed
succeed
soar
rumble out a roar
couple them up like Noah
risk
the drugs won’t mind a frisk
humble
slow doesn’t tumble
the cookie will eventually crumble

BLURRY

still lost…
still in the fog,
everything so unclear…
life’s reeking with fear
age is creeping near
unknown destination draws farther
single choice, so many options
straight road, so many junctions
one command, but how many functions?

MALICE IN MOTHERLAND

craved for in-de-pen-dence
ended up in-the-dense-pen
democracy aint hours to keep
we tripped, the fall was steep
wounds, so rotten so deep
deceit rules
the truths are a ruse
the body just floated
eyes sunken, face bloated
corpse swamped in flies
celebrating the success of lies
decay clothed in bright colors
gold-plated rust
silicone brazen bust
media hands over dead red roses
rebranding?! Holy Moses!
sweet musky stench in our noses
washing we hands with spit
pot-bellied, fooling around in a kilt
running a shameless race
moving at an aimless pace
what a waste of days
what a case, damn!
a patriot I am
a US marine in ‘Nam
green white green
rag in a bin
nothing is what it seems.

WORLD and OPPOSE(ITE)

Presence of a right attracts a wrong
abode which abides a weak one, resides a strong don
A world where you give to be given
Where you sin to be forgiven
Drive to be driven
A hell of a world where you strive to be even
Kindness and cruelty
Snitches and loyalty
Ordinary and royalty
Mary J., singing ‘No more drama’
The wicked ignoring the word ‘Karma’
Pray for the former…not the latter
A good ‘Amen’ confirms a prayer
Every dog’s got its day
Way back, pots were made of clay
democracy on the 29th of May
A price we’ll forever pay
A resolution we craved
Our names to be engraved
A fight with which our lives we paid
Enemies and friends, curves and bends
Crack-head fiends, brothers till the end
Life’s a two-way street
The last of a dying breed
The sprouting of a new seed
The searing cry of the needy
The disgusting belch of the greedy
The tight fist of the stingy
An open feast from the generous
Impatience is dangerous
Look hard before jumping on a bus
Might not be a way out, but a curse
Live life with positivity
Concern AIDS with negativity
Words from me to you like water from a tap
Guzzle on it…escape from life’s desert trap
A thunder’s clap…and it’s a wrap!

THE MELODY OF DECAY

Roaming the curious dark corners of the mind, afraid with pure stark terror of what it might find. It sank deep into the forbidden, passing the boundaries which it had been given.Each next step sure stank of insanity, very stubborn it yeilds to its vanity.
A frieze of human heads drifted into veiw, dried with taut grins and shrunken eyes, perched on wooden poles with pale tongues hanging out. Some are tattooed with targets and runic slogans, some are skinless with signs and words inked onto them. One has suture marks etched on it, like a blueprint for an assembly. The gaping eye-holes so dark, contrasts against the gleam of the smooth polished skulls reflecting in the harsh brightness of the afternoon sun.
The wind went in sync with the brown sand forming dust which in turn blows west leaving its signature on bones, dried gut and whatever remained of the maggot-ridden bodies. Silence so loud, it reverbrates in the landscape, echoing all the way to nothingness. Weight of the surrounding emptiness became heavier.
A snap!...the sound of a bone yeilding to decomposition shattered the glassy decorum thereby unsettling different species of feeding flies…there they go…angrily, perhaps delightfully humming a perfected chord over the buffet spread in their wake while the maggots squishes against each other and the rats scurry away at their own pleasure delivering a weird kind of percussion, thus blessing the scenario with a trio…the melody of decay.
Souls unseen, dances and drifts to the unknown, what becomes of them equally unknown.

SHOCK THERAPY

“Yes…yeah…there you go…..easy fella….ahhhhh!”
Relief ran itself boldly across my body, a satisfied smile creased my face as urine steadily gushed outta my bladder. Enjoying the moment, I closed my eyes and zoned out. Walking back to the office to resume my tedious , tiring job of doing nothing. I decided to check my reflection through one of the sliding windows, in case I spilled some ammonia juice on ma pants and…poof!..a 70-year old, leathery wrinkled face with grey hair all over stares back.
“Ha!!!” I yelped.
Blinks when I blink, make the same move I make, even manages to achieve the only natural difference between an image and its reflection; I raise my left hand, he doesn’t, he raises his right. Now I’m scared shitless. Horror bill-boarded itself across the shocked wrinkled face staring awkwardly back at me.
“What the fuck happened?!”
“Where in the jeebies did the years go?!”
Like a minute ago, I was taking a leak at the back of my office wondering how my life’s gonna turn out. Out of the blue, it popped out….i had used almost five decades deciding where my life’s headed…damn!..i paled, breath went outta my lungs with a rush as reality sucker-punched in the fact.
Shock transformed into panic, which ran into long miles of regret, then it all overwhelmed me and flowed out as tears. Resigned, I let the tears flow freely. They splashed on my right hand, warm tears
…”very warm tears”…sniffling, I pondered, “tears can’t be this warm.”
This wet thought dragged me outta my scary reverie. Looking down, I had urinated on my hand. I shook my phallus, zipped my pants and ran swiftly to the nearest window, part of me scared of what I’ll see…a 70-year old?
Strolling back to my office, mind partially occupied with what I just went through, the other part stylishly checking and cross-checking my reflection whenever I passed a window. I shivered as the truth went through me with a chill; procastination kills. Wearing a wide grin as I entered the office, I sat down, leaned back, shook my head at the joke my mind played on me, grabbed a pen and started writing…

IGNORANCE

Ignorance is bliss
what you don’t have, you don’t miss
it’s also a terrible disease
what you don’t want, you don’t wish
words of a snitch
yapping of a bitch
overlapping waves on a beach
to find, you must seek
ignorance and the strategies of its defeat
the ignorant holding tightly to his beliefs
the rescue of a calf, the herdsman relief
loss of the battle, the speed of their retreat
what you know, none can take
if you don’t know, you can’t fake
an idle mind is the devil’s tool
never leap before you look
fools rush in where angels fear to tread
give us this day our daily bread
faith in this prayer keeps you well-fed
lies are sweet, the truth is bitter
the poor stoops low, the rich reaches higher
why?...every question requires an answer
ignorance eats you up from the inside like cancer
get up and stop yawning
it’s never too late to start learning
go ahead…keep yearning
for more and a lot more
‘cause to win a war
you need to know it all
comprehend the writings on the wall
figure out the dance steps in a ball
disgrace ignorance
embrace tolerance
bask in exuberance
bad rubbish…good riddance!

IF ONLY....

A chilly, drunken night
a glowing half smile of the moonlight
cars zooming from left to right
mosquitoes humming for a bite
a wave of the hand & they buzzed off in fright
they’ll be back, they never give up without a fight
got the runway I needed and my thoughts took flight
I let it soar, the freedom of a new kite
who knows?, it might attain a new height
instead it flew head on into the storm of my relations
well, blame it on a lonely soul’s condition
just enjoy an idle mind’s confession
my route took me to an old attraction
one that ended before it started
something good could have come outta it, but we parted
before we could play, we got red-carded
had a lot in common, we are both right-handed
reached my destination and my plane landed
time heals wounds, but leave scars
felt she’ll fade in black when we’re far apart
still vivid like boobies without bra
or getting a lap dance at a topless bar
her face stuck on my brain like a tattoo
fantasy of her in my arms sweeps me off in a typhoon
now I feel like an April baby, a fool
a big one like I sat in my messy stool
lying around uselessly like a blunt rusty tool
should’ve said something when I had the chance
smart move, an opportunity for true romance
that she had to go shook me outta my trance
too late, fate took her to faraway France
wish I could go back in time
wish I had maximized what we had to its prime
the world is outta Genies, now I’m paying the fine
one a lot greater than the crime
she’s gone, she would never be mine
came outta my reverie wearing a sad smile
a sneeze made me realize I’ve been here for a while
eyes pooled up, a tear rolled down the mile
my shoulders are heavy, I feel old
maybe not, might be the cold
right now I should be under the folds
time to enter, I need not be told.

DIALOGUE (18+)

POLEY: Hey Holey
HOLEY: Hi Poley
POLEY: Is it raining?...why are you all wet?
HOLEY: Are you always so direct?
POLEY: You're in the mood, I bet.
HOLEY: Maybe....seeing you might have caused the effect
POLEY: Me?...now i'm getting upset
HOLEY: Ah...is that why you're getting erect?
POLEY: Well...what do you expect?
HOLEY: I should have known i'll affect
POLEY: You know more than you show...i suspect
HOLEY: Correct!
POLEY: I gotta do what I gotta do....are you set?
HOLEY: Do what you gotta do....I accept.
POLEY: Ahhhhh.....what a depth! 
HOLEY: Shut up jor!...or I'll reject
POLEY: You got a big mouth, I'll teach you respect.
HOLEY: Hmmmmmnnn.....to you I'm in debt.
POLEY: Before nko....you're my pet
HOLEY: You sef na my object
POLEY: I gree....arrghhh..ahhhh...I don eject.

ENVY

i lace up the dead man's shoes......
tap-dancing in it, i sang the blues
the fear in angels rouses the impatience in fools
the performance took home an eardrum full of boos
did all the don'ts i shouldn't do.....
buh the Labrador eventually caught the freebie i threw
unyielding, all knocks but the door adamantly opens for few
hinges creaks smoothly, oiled and new
the smelly shit is bull's......
envious green swamp drowns ma cool
by the second gulp, i'm full....
idleness dozing its way into sharpening the devil's tool
i drool.....

VAL.....a routine?

mi stuck mi dick in an anthole, it stung blissfully as she slid down the pole, mi moan...nah...mi growl, sweat glistened on her heavy breasts as they slowly bounce rhythmically, at the next bounce, mi find mi lips glued to a hard aroused nipple, them canines tenderly chew on the gum...

 the light in the room was dull red, smoke swirled into the stuffy room from a joint lying amidst several stubs of claro in the cover of a kiwi polish can...she lets out a high pitched moan as mi bit down hard on the delicate sensitive nipple, throwing her head back she increased the tempo...oh boy, she sure can dance....mighty glad mi cancelled mi plans..
mi turn her over with a groan...she ripped at mi whitees as i hammered furiously into her...and then in between the creaking of the bed, the splat sound coming from the sweat and we bodies...
 
"do you love me?..."
 
mi feet left the pedal...there was an immediate pause in rhythm....ok, pretty much was expecting this..it always comes...does it always help with them climaxing?..must they ask? do they time the asking? do they really care? is it just routine?...she noticed the change, so mi hammer on, harder this time...her nails dug into mi bare back...a gasp, a sharp scream.....her juice flowed...
i paused..stretched for the joint, took a drag as bouts of spasms rocked through her at intervals beneath me...
 
"now that's love right there..baby" the thought drew a smile on mi sweaty face as mi exhaled a cloud of smoke.....
then mi frown..."is it just routine?" i asked loudly.

A SAD ROSE

Being forlorn is like wanking to a naked picture of strife
it vividly displays the sketchy bitterness of being lost in life
i feel so small trying to make sense of it all
the dot makes a screeching halt before the end of e'ry explanatory sentence
sadly, my world lacks the essence of a presence badly...
guess i need a cause..nah, better yet a nurse,
maybe i got screws loose
or mi sanity booked a boat cruise...
probably i'm just tired..
lucky migraine, he just got hired
i feel feverish, my head hurts...
am i selfish?
my curse rides mi like a horse
'Gidiyap!'...hollers my boss,
i run....bearing the lunatic's cross

FLOWERS, TEARS & DIRT

 On your marks!…
He looks forward at the curved, white-lined tracks as they snaked their way to wherever. Blurry…his gaze wavers to the wrong path. Winning is one thing, your route to victory is another. He concludes the process defines the passion for the intent, but the point is to never relent…abi? They say he’s a sinner, but he never repents, he dwells in the dark thoughts of doom, but always poked back to the light with the pointy ends of a broom…(well, y‘all call it conscience)…etching on his mind, his tough but swift race to death. 

 Get set!…..
He tenses, his breath shaky as he slowly exhales. He yearns for the past, like the beginning of his latest breath, but to be defeated you have to conquer….
So, who’s the bad person?…what’s the option?

 …BAM!!...the race begins, then it’s over. 
 
Flowers, tears and dirt toast cheerfully to his victory (…um, probably theirs as well), to the end of the race…his race, the race you run alone….to his new home.
Who won?
…the priceless golden silence shines through this noisy world…announcing God’s greatest bitch, intimidating in her empty cloak as well as her deep heavy presence.
Who won?
No one wins…
…our stories will always be told by others, as theirs by us.

 …then again….is just what it is.

MY CURIOUS BONER

Love, a verb?…or a blab?
Love, a surge of the groin?…blindness without knowing?
Love, loony stupidity?…or dizzy night lights in a city?
Love, a moment?…or an event?
Love, eyes rolling, perplexed?…or pure raw sex?
Love, understanding?…or annoyingly demanding?
Love, a bet?…then a debt?
Love, the answer?…or testicular cancer?
So, Love?…what is it?
I, for one, thinks it’s a healthy disease.
….um, like a weak, nah….watery cumshot?

A BIT OF BOTH

The first step is the hardest as I puke Hercules into his daunting quest…sober and idle, I marvel as loud crunchy sounds devours the decorum like peppered plantain chips as I gently tread the gravel. It made me realize there is no space in the middle, silently as I drift, I still stumbled on a  parasitic riddle!…a huge step back to the cradle from the grave, dark techno music seeps through from hell’s rave, we all bob our heads, grooving on smoldering beds till eternity, shedding solid tears; voodoo hypnosis of the fraternity fears…aahh! I miss them all, voice-mail on my cell, death called.
          Puzzled, yet deeply she pries, so despair tries but got its tongue scalded by red hot ice. It grins out a dirty old scream, but my look remains glad and mean, leathery and weather-beaten, old and wrinkled…ah, happy says I wanna mingle, gladly…but will the wild bells jingle? By the way, twins are never but single, tah!…just the same in twos, compulsory friendship of fools. Itty-bitty, meow purrs the fluffy kitty….sour yellow milk oozes out of dirt pores as I gladly lactate amidst dark metaphors.

when love strikes....THE HEART BREAKS - (da sequel)

I have a phobia for failure
It’s very bad for my future
Unpleasant like an epileptic seizure
A screaming baby you gotta nurture
Sharp beaks digging at your skin like a vulture
Afraid to show her my medium of expression
Unsure of forgiveness after confession
Didn’t wanna give my baby up for adoption
Finally I had to set the wheel in motion
Had them rolling when I thought I’d put enough lotion
If she’s indifferent, here comes the pain
Indifferent she was, ma feelings I had to feign
Ma feelings crushed and washed down the drain
A trip you travel using the slow lane
Showers of rain beating on ma window pane
Salty tears flows down ma cheeks, mixing with the rain
What was I doing wrong?
I’m always referred to as the ‘big gun’
A Santa with a bagful of fun
But at the end of the battle, ma doubt won 
Like Jigga, I lost one
Her refusal went through me like a power surge
Spun me outta control like I rushed into a curve
My face folded up in disappointment
Then it reddened up with embarrassment
Walking away, I realize I had to do another announcement
A more solid one, fully caked with cement
I’ve been stung before, I won’t relent
If loving you is a sin, I will never repent 
But you made my love fall
Trapped in a hole with no one to call
You’re the dark tunnel in which I crawl
Getting cold comfort in your warm shawl
Sneezing hard on the scent of your smell
Eyes all puffy like I’m under a spell
Is this love or flu? I can’t tell
Failure cackles weirdly like a wild hyena
Enough clowning, get outta ma arena
I’ll be back, a good gone better
All you gotta do is start with a nudge
When you keep at something, it will budge
Tah! Bullocks! Who am I fooling?
I’m just every pathetic love-struck boy
Pouring his heart out to a girl who will never care
Three years and I still don’t know how
It seems the joke is on me now.

THE NAKED NUN

A beautiful soul wrapped in innocence
Lit up the whole place with her presence
A glow at every sentence
A treasure unaware of its existence
Face filled with honest exuberance
Ignorant of her ignorance
A new born baby
Steadily on her way to becoming a lady
Her smile drives me crazy
Drifting through a dreamy path that’s hazy
I encountered a dimple
Sophisticated but yet simple
Curves at a smooth angle
Hair messed up in a sexy tangle
If she’s the stakes, I’ll gamble
The luscious black lips soft to nibble
Drop south a bit and you’re at a dark nipple
Okay, let’s back up a notch, people
Her back straightens up when restless
She radiates a cute shyness
My plans for her are endless
Call me careless, I couldn’t care less
For me, I choose the best
The best, not a pest
Ma arms as a nest
Ma chest, a palace of rest
Guarding ma heart like a bulletproof vest
Someone I know a bit about
Told her I judge by the words of mouth
Found her guilty with no trace of doubt
Nothing this good comes easy
Some other guy has gotten busy
Could live with the fondle and the cuddle
Hope they’ve not crossed the bed hurdle
Don’t wanna step in a shitty puddle
Who knows, she might be worth the smell
Time does….I’ll wait till it tells.

WHEN LOVE STRIKES....the heart breaks

What I can’t say, I’ll write
Glad you know wrong from right
I pray ma words are tight
Found out long ago you are ma type
Don’t get me wrong, this ain’t a love letter
Been holding it for long, ma feelings for you grow deeper
Confessions from a sinner to a preacher
Loyalty of a slave to his master
This is from me, not the fever
If you are indifferent, here comes the pain
If I get over it, I’ll try again
No pain, no gain, yeah?
‘Cos after the sunshine comes the rain
I know you will look at me someday
Come quickly someday, I pray
For that someday, I’ll wait
It can never be too late
When you look, then it’s a date
Get you a gift on the 14th of February
When you wrong me, I’ll say the sorry
I’ll do everything for you, don’t worry
I’ve even started saving for your dowry
Our first anniversary comes with a new red Ferrari
What we’ll have, an outstanding marriage
On our honeymoon, we’ll take trips in a carriage
Our love, your trust, I’ll never savage
Think all this talk is too early for our age?
I agree, but it comes with the package
I’ll be drug to your headaches
The icing on your birthday cake
Whatever you want, pick your take
Beep, beep…there goes my pulse
Deep, deep…I fall in love
Yhemie is always kidding, you think
All the words I’m writing are not from a drink
Things I can’t do, I’ll never promise
Words you just read is a promise
Promise I just made, don’t dismiss
Don’t dismiss, I insist
Look all you want, you’ll never touch
I hope what we share will never be of such
Listen to my heartbeat, can you hum the tune it plays?
It’s been beating like this for days
Percussion of doubt and dismay
Maybe she’s not thinking of you this way
Adamantly, I think that’s left for her to say
After reading all I wrote
Then I’ll listen to her quote
Crossing ma fingers, holding on to hope
A chance for us, may she be able to cope
We can even decide to elope
If she agrees, I may have to quit smoking dope
Gotcha…that’s a joke.

Saturday, August 13, 2011

THE MORAL LEPRECHAUN

ENYA mourns loudly out of my Sony speakers 30mins(give or take) before midnight on the 24th of June...it has been raining all day so my brain's flooded, lots of foul debris so it's very crowded. Thoughts screaming to get out, opinions too pissed to stay in; guess i gotta let them...what other choice do I have? don’t wanna run crazy, not yet anyways. Just inhale and dance to the fast rhythmic percussion…forming out between the sharp hiss of my breath and the quick kick of my heartbeat!

Evolving from primates, well that's what Science told us, the reduction of hair from 95% of our epidermal area to selected embarrassing sections in conjunction with the phase when Adam ate the forbidden fruit and realized we had a groin...our intellect emerged. The longing want for a reason became top priority like a dope head in desperate need for a fix. So we became addicts...Eve knew - she buys the drug and her not-so-smart hubby takes a small snort. He gets stoned and curious, so he confronts the authority which leads him to rehab …thus, the first junkie ever, and automatically forever sends his whole generation into exile. It probably doesn’t take a genius to figure out why women always wins the men's race. Long-haired daft Samson can testify. Well, who knows…the big “G” might be a chick…Ah! 

In a game of chess, pawns are sacrificed for a 'greater good'(whatever that means); a win, the loser sacrifices them too, but his own pawns die in vain. Centuries of 
existence, we still defining ourselves, 'does a definition exists?' or better yet the task is to keep looking for an answer of which there's no question. The human generation is bored, so therefore confused: in search of an answer to the 'why', we leeched on Science, Technology and Religion...the hypotheses were different, they contradict. Belief, the dominant factor, underwent series of multiple mitosis - in simple French, she got fucked real hard till she gave a bloody birth to segregation, thereabout weapons and war. Our theories brought death and turmoil, our actions checkmated it. That’s why it’s the norm for knights  to always move in the 'hell' direction on and off chessboards. 

Science and Technology: the twins with different fathers, changed tactics and collaborated. Religion, their adopted sister, stood alone and stubborn...they envied and despised her, made them feel like fools...she defied every rule and got more audience. The two brothers hammered on the weaker gender to dominate the human intellectual mind, but she straightens out each time. Instead, she spreads out into a shade where the undetermined lurks, incomprehensible but satisfactory. The lazy human mind finds solitude in Religion, constructing a very shallow reason to house our 'whys'. She brings us home whenever the reckless twins loses us in the mystery of earth‘s dense jungle, although she, in turn loses us in the rooms…but as they say ‘there‘s still no place like home‘. The bold and unwavering fact of an invisible presence(power) became unavoidable...there is an infeasible force amidst us, we can't ignore it...i call it an answer, a safe one..atleast that's what i thought until she got raped and we started pointing out differences between Jesus Christ, Mohammed and some golden idols, hence, Al-Qaeda and recently our own personal nightmare, Boko Haram. 

It's all a fudge, if there's ever a word like that; so i ask the question, WHY? The adverb, one word...an unending translation, an unending meaning! Trying to understand the reality of our existence exceeds our comprehension, why are we here?..are we just a piece in a puzzle? damn, what puzzle? We’re increasing in population while at the same time the mortality rate revs up the life chain engine...what the fuck are we here for? What‘s the big picture? Who‘s painting the damn picture?!

You know the comparison between humans and GOD?...apart from the ‘lets make man in my own image ’ speech, we will always need each other, it's a compulsion, again if there's any word like that. The reality of humans exists on the reliability or dependency on each other, voluntary or otherwise...but in the other sense GOD also needs us to be GOD, i mean, who would recognize Him?…Animals ?- all they do is eat, sleep and fuck/mate if you will...oh, and shit. Plants? - they don't got a mind of their own...they don't even know when they pollinate, i hear they shit too. Inorganic substances? - are you kidding me?, they are shit already, incase you're wondering...it's all we, it has always been. Oh, the ’stones will rise in your stead’ speech…well, we were never going to be around to see that. From our comprehension, we are higher animals, we fucking tower above other beings, right? why on earth(ah! in heaven perhaps) do you think HE is trying to make us better? still ever trying to mold us to be like HIM...i hope(pray) HE succeeds. i wouldn't care more, HE always does. Such a patient perfect bastard! (blasphemy or humor?…your pick.).

ENYA weeps silently out of my Sony speakers 10 minutes(give or take) after midnight on the 25th of June - a very sad day (MJ is gonna die again later today), my brain's still trickling...now sparse and weary, clogged. Thoughts feebly nudging to get out, guess they can wait...wont run crazy now, not tonight anyways. Just inhale and tango to the slow rhythmic blues...between the gentle whistle of my breath, quiet thud of my heartbeat and the gentle drizzle on the rooftops....then.....exhale.

Plants shit?....A throaty chuckle, then soft snoring commences.

Wednesday, August 3, 2011

THE HOBO AND THE DAMES

I hate weddings but there seems to be nothing as ridiculous as a middle-aged local woman in a cheap brown iro and buba rocking to ‘give it to me - da prince’…it all happened at this Muslim wedding (they can be such a drag), only God knows how I happen to be there…oh FYI, she knew the words. Ah! That definitely caught ma attention, but it was short-lived.

While discreetly nursing a can of shine shine bobo (illegally ofcourse), I shifted my gaze to this hobo with a ‘I AM DEAF, PLS HELP ME’ placard hanging from a rope on his neck eating hungrily from a crowded plate…dragging in air with the same pace he was gulping down huge morsels of what seemed like a mixture of semovita/eba (it was hard to tell) complimented with huge chunks of vegetable. He’s gonna choke anytime soon, I thought as I concluded with another large swig.

Three kids, one in same matching native attire as the rocking ‘mama’, stare at him, intrigued. The hobo coincidentally looks up, his soup dripping hand halts mid-air, surprised, he holds their gaze then smiles awkwardly at the trio. The hobo’s smile widens, showing yellow teeth with vegetable draped on the crevices of decaying gum, Frightened, the kids scurry off, he chuckles as the hand proceeds to its destination. 

Half of the food gone, he decides it’s time to down one of the three ‘pure waters’ in his front. KWAM 1 blasts loudly from twin speakers (he succeeded in knocking the Mo‘ Hits member off the chart)…unconsciously nodding his dirty dreadlocked head gently to the music, his eyes catches the green-veined huge cream tits that is trying extremely hard to pop out of  the tube-tops of two bleached out girls chatting in fake UK accent as they exchange photographic poses. Here comes the grin again, he licks his charred oily lips sloppily…the food can’t be that delicious.

Their excited giggles dies out as one of the girls notices the soup-messy hobo staring openly, after notifying her friend, they both assume a shocked, disgusting expression as they immediately suspend their blackberry photo shoot. He widens that heinous grin and spices it up with a wink…he’s still bobbing his head.
Ugh!…Pschew!…comes out alongside the disgusted looks the girls gave in return. Unfazed, with a snort he returns to his meal.

Three more huge morsels to go, one of the three kids drags the dancing mama over, unwilling to part with KWAM 1’s Fuji music, she gyrates her hips while trying with no avail to convince the kid, all was well. She stops, both her gyration and her soothing when she sees our hobo, who is now grooving a little too hard to the music, his placard doing the African dougie on his neck. She goes mute with surprise, the lower jaw drops south.
‘Hey!’…she hollers.
The hobo stops immediately and…oh God, not again, the dirty grin spreads out once more. He holds out his placard with a stained hand.
‘He can’t hear‘…one of the girls offers.
The woman looks at her incredulously.
‘Don’t blame her, she can’t read‘…the other girl nudges her friend…