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.
Ode on my story
called to hear my song
never started this way
a stranger it was before
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.
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.
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.
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
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 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.
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
pain, anxiety, heartaches, and its ingredients of
Can’t shake it off my back, it’s so close
and it’s accompanies realities.
like the pen,
depression, folks say is
from a writer.
And more and more they are.
Yet these few found expression out of my pen.