Changes

Situations come and go
Where we head'n we'll never know
But as far as our breath controls
All we'll know is all that that will flow

Life, what part of it we all desire,
Honey Badger Limits, our souls ignite
Fire,burning through our hearts
Our secrets, just sick like crocodile arms


But a time will come, when the real would we'll see
Through the eye of changes , yes true ones that be
That we can never thread on road so cold and still
And by faith, we must dare to cross the narrow sea

People come and go
Just like changes that we know
But one of them will truly hold firm like snow
Oh yes! The hope we've come to behold



Dedicated to that heart that wants to smile again...believing in change (Olaolu Abimbola 2011)

A Different Heart On the Phone

He woke up still dozing

bothered about the results of life's realities, yet less desirous of them

He had been battered and wounded, 

So much of himself he now despised

He needed to get back on track 

so he put up a call to the lady invisible

not for love or gain, 

just a desire to live his life to the fullest, 

requesting for support

Then the voice of the stranger brought him to consciousness

He realized it was just more than a phone call for help

She was different right from the first giggle

She was real right from her decision to be of help

If she was customer service,

that would have been an excuse

but she was just a little stranger

on the other end of the phone

Daily exchange of messages lasted for just about a week

But that must definitely had been his best maybe in years

However, it did change one thing in his heart;

No matter how long or how far,

There is still a kind and beautiful heart, smiling a pray'r away

Love Reborn

Love is like a seed

Needs to be buried and unseen

Then it dies and begins to sprout

Love blossoms out of the mud to come alive

Love is like a flower

Buds and creates its form

Then it glows and blows

Refreshes with its flow

Love is like a fruit

First of all bitter and un-edible

Needs time to ripen and then enliven

Mostly taken for grated and left to rot

But deep inside the fruit is another seed

Waiting for a new love to be borne.

Dear Turkey

Dear Turkey,

To nature your land did quake
But in God, your lives will remain

To pain your children did mourn
But to gain, your country will rejoice

To earth, your souls did give up while swallowed
But to eternity the lost souls, crowns will inherit

Oh Turkey,

It was indeed an earthquake
we must never allow it to turn to a "heartquake"

The Dawn of "The Don"

Good morning the sun
thank you for your threads
hello thou sky
I rejoice at your stretch

Good day my heart
you did beat to the breeze
welcome today
there is so much to do and say

The Hustler's Blackout

 

The hustler carrying his back pack

Walking along Ikeja, headed for the under-bridge

Profusely cursing the day he was born; what burnout!

His memory is as intact as the first day of his miserable life

Half the way, he dreams of the Burkingham

In fact, his passion way ahead of the Aso Rock

I am Tired of “Naija” of course “Jandon” must rock

The city of juice, booze and hams

Weary legs sweeping dust, just like his mouth, yearning dust

Like other hustlers he sways, like other hustlers he prays

“when will I reach the promised land?

Why has under-bridge prolonged thus far?”

He complains about “the bastards of the land”;

They ruined his life right from the start

His father died of much weed and his mother’s features creates no form to mind;

he never got to meet her all his life and now the thought of his misfortunes creates deformations

It is 9:00 pm and for more than twelve hours he had been roaming

Apparently no work to do or friend to see

The day has been just one mess in a reel

Another day and life has only been sulking

The hustler’s day is over

He has no report what ever

No family to call his own or answer

So he only lays his weary head to rest for the next blackout

I pray.

Every now and then I smile

But question is how bruised is the heart?

In silence I hunger

In desperation, I linger

Every minute and passing second

I want to ask “why”?

To be sure that I finally reached out to love

Or maybe that which I are see is only a farce?

Everyday I search

For something more than my mind can fathom

It is only surprising that I am sometimes assumed as false

Or maybe the spur of the moment’s attack?

Evermore I wish

To express the way I feel,

I don’t even know if it is meant to be

But I don’t want to be seen as a steal

Even now, I know the pain

Of a heart soaked in worries

Of what tomorrow will gain

Only hoping love’s gain will win trophies

I pray.

Dying in Silence

Do you get to feel it sometimes?
The warmth of a cold day; heat when everything is meant to be otherwise
The freezing point of the furnace
What a contrast, a paradox, shivers for no reason


Periods of numbness, dumbness and stupidity
Feelings borne out of deep pains and heart scars
Boiling eyeballs, living in depression and void of opportunity
The goose pimples and freckles concocted in fine blend of quietness and fears

Living in loneliness of the mind
Sharing imaginations alone
Building castles of wishes
Caring for invisible moulds

Seeing your face makes me even weaker
Not knowing whether to speak or splinter
Hearing your voice does me no good
I sometimes feel old and a burden

I am so overwhelmed by my feelings
And already carrying to many a burden
Life has made me a weakling
I only wish greener days, yes I am really wishing;

To let you know how I have come to see you
And how much of you I desire
It feels stupid to speak it
But a secret I only keep in fear

Fear of the unknown or unsaid
Fear of disappointment unread
Fear of losing you for ever
Fear of killing me all together

I do get the feeling most times
The brunt of a cold day; fires when everything is meant to be otherwise
The freezing point of the furnace
What a contrast, a paradox, I shiver because I am attracted to you for many reasons

Draw Back Your Boat

We cruise on an island since we departed from an unknown land
seeking our destination, something we've designed in our imagination.
Though smooth the road,a long one it remains, and at some point our faces are "worn-torn";
but we ride and saddle on, in the storm we cry and paddle on

Along the way we meet some gain, some lessons, some treasures,
they shape our joruney and our lives in no little measures,
we discorver our true inner self, spirit, body and soul
and this gain defines us a not a part, but as a whole

Then the journey begins to take shape and the map gets only clearer,
then our gain becomes a guide and a true shepard;
we find consolation in the love and the excellence of approach
so certain we are that that union is without reproach

Suddenly the boat begins to swat..."WHY"?
why do we let our past teach us the "HOW"?
what could be wrong that we let that wonderful gain die?
and why do we chicken out when we should have some "guts and liver"?

As beautiful as the journey begins, we make it die abrutly
not for something we choose or love but fear of submission
in any case, the choice of destination is dealt indecisively
at the end, we fall into the trap of ommision and commission.

So we let love sail away and we astray
Our hearts burn and melt like smoke in an ash-tray
we cry and bleed but it does not take the pain away
It is a deep cut that will keep to hurt each and every passing day

There is one simple solution in to the question unanswered;
To draw back your boat and let love flow again,
no more confusion and to true love you must swear
and that even if it is no longer your gain, true to it you will remain

The destination only becomes clearer and sharper
unfortunately, life is the lesson and the teacher
we might loose our heart-love because we did not correctly decifer,
but we must be careful never again to leave true love unspoken forever

I draw back my boat, and now to reason
even though i suspect this might not be the right season
but before i die and kill my pride let me let you know how increasingly
my love for you has for ever left me bleeding and screaming.

It is a hard life without someone like you
it is unfair that i might have left true love so crude too soon
i feel its hurt and its paide in mould dark blue;
i will never know if this feeling will ever be untrue...

...a dream, a casting of shadows, an imagination that never happened...

...can it ever, be untrue? for as long as i draw back my boat, it would be hard to move on without you.

i am sorry.

By Olaolu Abimbola March 2011

Beyond they Lurk

Written by Femi Osikoya and used with due permission.


Behold they lurk
Trying so hard tu blend
The unattentive to rend
Away from the steel caged wheels
Rolling round the choke-filled city ways
only to milk a living
For state and humanity they feign
Yet know we all
For self and senior they pine
Suffering the same they swore to protect
Deviously concocting new rules on the go
To forcefully ferret another's gold
On threat of the law
Heartless, cold, unfearful of the divine
Lost souls in gabs of every shade and guile.

Femi Osikoya (2010)

AGE -by Paul Adeyemo

This poetry piece piece was written by Paul Adeyemo and used with due permission.

The Black Osime

-----
She likes black of course no one can judge her for that
It's like making the best out of her, although it also makes her to hide under a mask.
It's been dark inside and sometimes does show on the outside,
The revelations of a world shared alone;
Something difficult to understand, and complex in tone,
Yet beautiful in all and as strong as a stone

O----
She likes a dog, but has got none
Just like herself still searching for the right “one”.
She wants to love but really wants to take her time,
To share her life with a friend, seat all day, all calm.
She wants to be loved, again, by someone she can call a pet
Just like the dog that guards secured, howbeit much cravenness for a peck

Os---
She changes her mood and her romance deep as the moon;
So hidden yet so hot like the morning’s cup of tea.
She does not want to be hurt because her love could go strong,
That’s why she is not game for sweet words, yet always gets carried away by love’s charm.

Osi--
Her flowers sprinkle her love on her loved
Once he tastes, he just won’t want to stop
She wants to feel deep romance in every vein of her being
To feel refreshed, fulfilled and taken care of deep within

Osim-
She loves adventure and loves to travel
Not like she’s extravagant but sees each day as an opportunity to live.
She’s being through troubles and struggles,
the reason for her quest of a quiet life - to be in touch with her world, to be relieved

Osime
Looks gentle but could be a tiger
Hates disappointments and swears in her anger;
Worst pain is love’s cheat, so she runs from the heat, but still the pain retained
for a day or two she glows in pain, seeking a friend or mum to run for refuge
Interestingly she’s only got a heart and not a stone
She always could give another chance if failure for love is atoned

Olaolu Abimbola 2011

THE CHASING MAN

 

Leave me! Leave it!!  Stop bothering me.

Accept it, do not reject, please let me be;

I need my space, to determine my pace

As long as you stick to craze, things might be set ablaze.

Stress!

I seat down you do the caller, I stand up you begin to holler;

Words I like, or nay, your own is to disturb and chase.

“Haba my brother, I ‘no-dey’ for market,

Please release me, I say believe me” otherwise I‘d spray you a water-sachet”

Disturbance!

Be gone! Oh ye giver of a “boner shock”

Your trade sells no more than your words: lightening-struck

I know you to be a “shark porn”, of course I lay under-water but not as your very prey,

You enjoy "bad texting", but please don’t give me an over-doze of your fake pleas

Deception!

Ha-ha! Here comes your last chance “Mr Lover Man”

Do not even come close; you’ve been given a life-ban

For your information I will tell you what you failed to see,

I've got a child or two, a loving man and my wedding ring!!!

Survival!

  By Olaolu Abimbola August 2011  (the day a client gave a stress)

images from - http://www.google.com/imgres?q=woman+chasing+man+picture&um=1&hl=en&rlz=1B3GGGL_enNG351NG352&biw=1280&bih=477&tbm=isch&tbnid=djisaG1B7V9bTM:&imgrefurl=http://www.clipartguide.com/_pages/0511-0809-1014-1316.html&docid=ifbrtj39sqjsFM&w=350&h=185&ei=Ksg6To63B4-aOsHngNkD&zoom=1 

THE "REAL-STATE" OF NIGERIA

A fast growing economy in wealth and heritage
A people prided in self belief and cultural abundance
A continental pride, a black nation
A good future born through struggle and determination to survive
A generous nation in demography and psychography
A glory waiting to reveal its crown
An ambitious people interested in the end without considering the means
A regional light, an emulation
A hunter’s trigger, the farmer’s water gourd
Today’s hope, tomorrow’s dream

A music band dancing to different tunes
A twined Gunter’s chain waiting for freedom
A hopeful nation…a waiting people…believing in hope
A rulers’ ruler, yet an unruly ruler
A bright future painted in dull colours
A nation driven by passion, but coordinated in selfish ambitions
A tomorrow always waiting for tomorrow
A sleeping army dreaming of victory
An uncertainty formed in the midst of clarity
An insecurity that lives as the night guard
A speculation that ends up as a mere rumour
A deceived nation thriving in the trade of deceit
A conscious people unconsciously seating on a time bomb

AN OPPORTUNITY NEVER UTILIZED BUT BURIED IN OBSCURITY

Culled from olaoluwabimibola.wordpress.com (2011)

THE DEVIL’S CREED

I am a weapon of mass destruction and I have no heed for “humane instructions”.

Deep down in the woods of westernization I arise, with great disdain and opposition to its vibes;

The dilapidation of today holds its origination to the works of some scholars in the grave,

who did not put into consideration the effects of their minds’ creations

So I must arise and destroy, that which I believe is but a ploy;

To teach my world that in the midst of the “carmageddon”, I can also get as much evil done

not because I care or feel any remorse, after all, the impasse only seems to get worse.

I regard myself a skin-thirty, whose actions are driven by other commandoes I follow

I do not bother if you remain a cinephile of my actions; it will only spur more complications

It is my destiny to destroy my foes, so let me build the feud and fuel more woes

I am not a religion but I thrive under the survival of anyone

Not because they were formed for my own creation, I only choose to use them for my ploy

So your community could be the next, you just wait till I plant my tent,

Oh! Yes me tent. The innocent will always be caught in my net.

Who says my weapons are western? I will never agree

I carry just a gun, some chemical compositions and a cell phone.

My axe to slay is my very own, even if it has to hurt my very bones

So should I regard its discovery as the “west’s-own”…Nay!

   

You are my next target, your children, society and family

I am set to turn every stranger and enemy to a nonentity

I do not exist by name, I only remain in trade

I feel no pain, shame or disgrace

So as long as people die and families cry

I am satisfied that your lives will always be on fire

So keep to mind when you hear a blast on your street;

I am your next nightmare the terrorist

FLOCKING WITH "THE MERCHANT"

Here we are again, at the home of “the merchant”;

“Come buy my grains, I bet they will cook in an instant”.

So we rush every ‘Dick and Harry’;

We buy and buy so much in a hurry.

“The merchant” so wise at his game;

Yes he is the sinister that whisked our minds with his tales

Of how he won different deals without a thinker

Making us feel our ideals must be weaker

So we get home to view our purchase,

Only to be dazed and amazed

that what we deemed as a record purchase,

was nothing but stupidity and disgrace

The morale of the story is simple to explain

But in all honesty very difficult a method to retain

It is all about why we busy-buy those wrong ideals,

from merchants-of-folly we call friends and buddies

Life is a lesson and yet the teacher!

Flocking with the right company is the only way to save the day

As long as we do not remain in the world stained with sin and blisters

We are surely bound to escape “the merchant’s” deceit that has caused so many “success-delayed”

By Olaolu Abimbola 2011

WHEN THE DOCTORS SAID "NO"

The patient, perceived as a weakling

His perspective of life, solely dependent on his state of mind;

Melancholic suppression and pity for the dying form

The bloodline driving towards a meaningless end

The only hope at the theatre is hopelessness

Deaden of the nerves, physiological disjointedness

Fear permeates every corner,

The only sound; the wheel of the stretcher

Now he is no more deemed a weakling

His falling and failing is visible

The noise on the outside is that of a shepherd’s calling

All that can be understood lies in the last prayers of the sheep at the slaughter

Survival becomes scarce, the smell of oxygen an expensive dose,

Self determination to live carry little or no weight, success is now an uncertainty;

Hope, then despair; trust then caution

The gasp gets faster, we fear for drooling approaches.

The medicals for a second assume the position of “the mediocre”

Then the clocks stop and the room is quiet;

There is blood everywhere and the spatulas have done the splitting

Then silence! The most uncomfortable noise in the theatre.

The team begin to depart, the veil covers the victim;

Melancholic music in the air, o not really but the noise of the sympathisers

In a minute of two it should be over- how hard it is to live with the bleed

No pulses, only voices, but from outside, not inside.

Then in the twinkle of an eye the springs shift, and the bed re-rumpled

First of all a scare or the remembrance of “The Invisible Man”

A little jostle of the legs, then the final stretch

We all rush outside, not inside,

Fear in delight, surprise in despair

But now comes the real tears, he is back to normal

A cold cough and more movements

He is alive, somehow he came back

A tear then two, the multitude join in the rejoice

It was a long wind, but success was achieved

At last he is free to go home and live in peace.

We cried for him – in pain, but in return he gave us a smile- in exhalation as we sing!

-’laoluwabimbola copyright 2011

Living My Life!

Lost we are in the forest of our lives

Washed in the waters, of quietness and bitters

Clouded in mystery, cocooned in webs of feelings

Silent we remain within, considering the sounds deep-in

But overall, we are to carry ourselves

In the threshing land where everyman holds the fort for himself

We only battle to catch our lots within the continental shelf

Filled with no food but animal shells

I have tried so hard to find the place called happiness

In fact toiled all day to get but sadness

Regardless of how much I search everywhere

Only what I considered satisfaction took me to where eagles’ dare

So what is life that we have so much treasured to live in care?

What is hope that we have always desired to be the best for another?

Is it that we are wrong and we must always but fear?

Or maybe we should only bother; maybe we should live is despair.

So I discovered that it remains my choice to be happy and to love

Not to care about how I feel or what others call my loss

That if I do not enjoy every single moment of my life and really do

I am eventually ready to sing a song so dire and fueled in doom

Love, life, choice and care; four words I use but not in despair

To love as if it’s like no other and to live as if it is my last

Yes to choose what I want or the other

But most of all, feel free to care and live my life just for me, for life

-By Olaolu Abimbola 2011