If a stammerer could sing

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My stories, the songs I sang for myself, the blessings and worries in my world.

I fought some, I loose few, and I am still fighting the rest.

The songs are simple, they are straight, no hidden notes just pure rhythm and rhyme.

Yet, they reach deeper, farthest to the core of the soul.

7 songs out of my pen.

If a stammerer could sing, these will be the songs.

My friend

Ode on my story

called to hear my song

never started this way

a stranger it was before 

twenty fifteen

fought it, so well, threaten

brick storm and fire

low it lies, spreading calmly

a wish I never know I needed but

as of now, I made peace with it, 

showed me my loss, make me feels the love

i have for myself is enough.

Negative, they called it, positive friend,

I named it.

Me.

 as a child

a gild of all forms

worries never do a thing for me

why should I?

blossom under the wings of 

an angel, a mirror to behold me

then time ushered in

insecurity, wars I am fighting alone

Might be imaginations.

 I am

a classic bunch of forms

radiating a clear wave of 

signs and personalities

my talks are much, but few are my words

roads that lead here are strange

an illusion I called it, with age 

It will all vanish. 

the Jokes on me.

strength accommodate its feelings,

 smiles covered its appearance,

hidden, under Layers of me.

Questions .

 From his loins I was begotten

he draw me up, pumped me with

beliefs, filled my path with ordinances

my comfort is drawn to his eyes, 

his steps challenged my intuition, he 

spoke them powerfully, his words,

provoked my desire. 

Was I enough for him?

Will I end up like the other one?

Is he happy with me?

The thoughts of these eroded me.

Demon in my thought. 

… And she says when you pray tonight, 

pray for the demon around you

they’ve made you their prey

so I choose songs in solitude of whimpers,

verses of comfort to drown my foes,

whispering, words of freedom.

let the gods free me of them, 

 the universe guardians, should erase 

demons in my thoughts, waiting with ease

familiar, they are

over my mind, they have a lodge

I don’t want them

yet Dorcas, I have grown yoked to 

my thought demons. 

i love ‘em

The blessing.

I have a smile, a face

brighten with opulence grins

a blessing, they say

always plastered on me

like the sun rays.

 a blessing to them, a catalyst 

it was called

a melting point for their sorrows

smile more, Ade will say 

yes I adhere.

a disguise it is for me,

 a facade, pure lie brought out 

in plain sight

        Yet no one sees past it deceit

telling a lie was an abomination, but smiling was easy

a blessing it was to keep people away,

with their words coated with

pseudo-cares, it kept them at bay

the intrusion was little or lesser.

my smile, blessings it is!

The jailer.

the jailer holds my shirts

is he ever going to let me rest?

dragging through muds of isolation and 

castigation, the iota of peace I had was put to test.

solitude of non-ending pain, surge of murderous 

inmates visiting my dark cell

jailer wiggle the keys, the bunch to freedom, they dangle

raising hope for a caged bird, it raised anticipation out of my dejected mind

at a longer glance, he removed his veil. 

the jailer was Me.! I have enquires.

oh boy! Talk! The key is to let your lips utter words

there is always an ear, he says. Make reveal

imprisonment of your mind to people

My occurring thoughts manifest in words 

“Jailer lock me away”, as I embraced my 

Rest, here in the warden den.

The end.

Will it be hard?

or quite the opposite

feelings crawling like a 

gecko fasten on me.

when will it be over, does it end

feelings pooping in uninvited, yet

so familiar,

pain, anxiety, heartaches, and its ingredients of 

frustrations

Can’t shake it off my back, it’s so close

and it’s accompanies realities.

 like the pen,

depression, folks say is

 Never, far-fetched,

 from a writer.

  And more and more they are.

 Yet these few found expression out of my pen.


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