..IN TROUBLED DREAMS

we feed the hungry fire
with a log of wood
and dance around fated
resonance of gunpowder
watching our dreams
in the wrathful flames
of stifled whims

we walked through the acutes
of capless grounds
clothing the winds
with wands of fates
burying our fears
in the graves of talking bones

we surrendered our mortality
in the battle ground 
of immortality
humming the songs of apathy
in the shackles of humanity,
we played in the circles of serendipity

without frets of shame
we built huts of hope
in troubled dreams

polishing our sandals
with arms of faith
holding to our fates
without fear of falling

the storm blew our hearts
to different directions
we paddled boats
on streams of naked intentions
hanging our dreams
on the trees of the future
with our eyes
forward to the mountains of unswerving totality

Written by: Moses Chibueze Opara
Edited by: Kukogho Iruesiri Samson

(curled from Words, Rhymes and Rythmns @wordsrhymesandrhythm.wordpress.com)

For Him...

When in April 2013
Her soul fled... ignited

Like a car engine...
Still, he steered hard on her timid face

Oh passion mixed with tension
Even at a Praying Ground?
On her, he kissed with words
Making her dance and say 'cheese'

Into her soul like showers of waters
Penetrating her resilient heart
With words, rhymes and signs
As such..she scattered her Brazilian hair

At every little chance,
she, of his name, chant
Even in the belly of struggle
she lept in bubbles with jumping smiles

Wow! the - vocally endowed!
Little wonder,that feeling of 'Somehow'
Caress the walls of her pointed nipples
As she murmurs ...With a loud silence.

Painstakingly combing a breath of fresh air
In and out of her very unique nostrils
Like a helpless lamb in the altar
..Curling the angered joy of distance.

Words, rhymes, massaging rhythms
To the veins in her flowing blood
Back, front, left and right
Signalling at her swelling "Kinni"

"I will never let you go..."
The song she sang with a resounding bang
Ko-La 'wole' come in to stay, stalk me today
Into the bottomless deep of my flaming hill

Cos from 'Maba, she, in irony surrender,'
Her head, her shoulders, her feelings, her soul
Like they've long belong
To Bankole Kolawole, her funky, naughty Lover.

(NB: Maba is a place along Lagos-Ibadan Expressway)

Written by: Bankole Kolawole
Edited by: Bamgbade Bams Adetoyese

GREEN GREEN CRY

Why the cry of the green
In the language of our ancestors?
Feels badly battered
By the newness of modernity
And the making of perishables
With its attendant methods and machines
Made to spit into the sky
The warned spits of death
Which gives the 'pleasurable' pleasure
And makes everything 'kia kia'
Kia! I have called London
Kia! I have bought fast food
I even want a Kia Rio
But Green's eyes? 'Reddest redness'.

Now Green is returning with smiles
Our visitors' book now filled
First as disastrous Felix and Katrina
Second as Noah's second experience
Sometimes opening its mouth, wide
Like anaconda to swallow unfortunate 'homos'
The fear of tsunamis have become the beginning of wisdom
To love of three scores is now to be Methuselah
The global village being heavily ravaged
By global warming
And now becoming a global oven
Forests turning lands, lands turning deserts
Deserts turning hell, hell on earth.
And green is still returning with strange strange countenance.

(Note, Kia is a Yoruba (one of Nigeria's 3 major languages) word for 'quick' or 'speedily')

Written by: Patrick Tanloju
Edited by Bankole Kolawole

The Yawn of No Despair

Everything becomes illogical
Tingling tumbling without the 'aesthetical',
It seems the world is yawning,
Closing its mouth with its bearing.

Soon I became traumatized,
Thinking everything is bastardized,
Looking so gloomy with my scepter,
Painfully trying to correct it with my laughter,

Alas!, things are not the way I think,
Caressing my eyes with surprised blink,
How I wish I could transform,
That which people conform!

And then, traverse on the gaze
As my cheeks go ablaze
In flows of hopeful tears
As I yawn the yawn of no despair.

Written by: Azeez Daniel Kayode
Edited by: Bankole Kolawole

Than Million Miles...

She gave me the best security
For nine months of uncertainty

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And brought me up with purity
Beautified me with her noble beauty
She is my only joy, my pride
And I’m secure whenever I’m at her side
If I could in her womb again reside
There I would from the world happily hide

She is mortal living in sainthood
That woman from I first tasted food
She it is that willingly takes blame
That I might live to my noble name

In the hard and trying times
She would go more than million miles
To carve into my face a smile
That would last more than a while

Search east, north, south and west
She is the best, first and greatest
I wish for nothing more, she has it all
Virtuous woman, mother of all
…
I can’t your goodness repay
Even if I whisper ‘thanks’ everyday
So all I can do is to pray
That you find joy everyday

Mama, I will never forget you
No matter what I go through
Mother, I will always care for you
Yes, I will always love you

O God, I beseech thee
Bless my mother for me
Strengthen her more than the waves of the sea
For she is the world and to me

Curled from: http://wordsrhymesandrhythm.wordpress.com

Written by: Clement Virginpoet
Edited by: Kukogho Iruesiri Samson

...The Escaping Silence

At 6 a.m, the moon buried the illumination of the star
I was dreaming of paradise
When the call hit my foot
A neighbor shouting in tears
Madness clothed her

After continuous vomiting and diarrhea
Between the hours of five and six
Asanat arrested the escaping silence
Ignored the calls of her mother
Denied her the claim of motherhood

When I came out to arrest the noise
I saw the father, Asanat on his shoulder
Like a lifeless antelope on a hunter’s shoulder
He is running here and there seeking help
Alas, government care is far to us

No Kobo to make phone call, no Naira to get the care
Within the passing hour
Asanat goes with the escaping silence
Only the body stays behind
And father presents as an offering to the earth

Asanat is gone, she has the grave for a bed
She is neither a public ball nor a common whore
She is asleep without a man to warm her bed
No man shall ask her for a meal in the evening
And no child shall call her mother

Asanat has gone with her tomorrow
Leaving us with lifeless sorrow
No one is glad to watch her sleep
But the body cannot be offered to earth without honor
So we give her the earth, we give her the dust

Curled from: Words, Rhymes and Rhythm
http://wordsrhymesandrhythm.wordpress.com
Written by: Bada Yusuf Amoo

IF NOT FOR GOD...

Like a player, home in accord with his Father
For the Owner, he deserves a nine in the squad
The Manager sees him rather as a spectator
He sees it a worthwhile venture or more of an adventure.
If not for God . . .

There comes the match before the match
Taking place as usual in the silent dark field
Between the Manager and the Owner
The debate was ‘intense’, the fight lively
If not for God . . .
 
As expected, the real match began
And in accordance with the owner’s and Father’s will
The controversial player introduced
He’s now got to fight to stay on the pitch
If not for God . . .
 
That manager becomes unsettled
She struggles to eliminate the player
Joined in the process by an uninvited Referee
Kicks! Headbutts! Punches! Wrestles!
If not for God . . .
 
 This helpless player on the pitch of life
The Father and the owner conniving with the linesmen
Just to keep him on that deadly field
Until that manager becomes infinitely helpless If not for God . . .
 
Written by: Patrick Tanloju
Edited by: Bankole Kolawole

PAMPERED VILLAINS....

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O! How long will Madam Justice bleed in Blood and tears?

Fed with sour vinegar, every now and then

Raped, stabbed and left to ache in burning coals

... Yet villains are left to take away her one and only coat.

How heroes are compelled to romance prison floors
For no reason in particular
Still villains and their co. flex, wine and dine in Ivory towers.

Madam 'J' must be placed in pleasant places
Else Bro. Jonah might just be running a shadow chasing race to places
Ruminating, gallivanting gallantly in the Land of Sentiment .

Where is this wrecking to?
Why is Justice kidnapped erroneously?
Pushed, painted, plastered and battered with emotional grenades
Back, front, left and right, despite in sight
Of a certain 'not my idea' Captain.


For how long will Boko continue to harass our caves ruthlessly
And our I.G.P gets a national award gorgeously?
Arrant nonsense! foolish intelligence!!
What a show of bastardized democracy!
Dictatorial diplomacy, sentimental judiciary!

Little wonder, Mother South presented a certain Henry
With 24 befitting gifts of scintillating imprisonment
Still, Jonah is fast asleep in that rock they call 'Aso'


Villain Jemisi! a pat on your back?
Discharged and acquitted
For re-inventing and rediscovering wings and feathers
For pounds and dollars to fly in billions and zillions

Little wonder! you bagged a deserving international award
Of 13 years in strangulating comfort,
Elevating rapport with hardened criminals
Still, Bro. Jonah listened with divided attention.

Waking up to grant Alami a pardon.
Hmm... interestingly dignifying indeed
What a lactating adult!
Pampering villains and battering heroes.

Aba ! sacrilegious Bulama
Kai! Barao! Banza! Pardoned Shege!
Eh! 30 something billion dollars in 13 minute minutes?
Ebele! Kadan Kadan.

...And we go again
Arise O compatriots, Nigeria 's call obey
To serve Nigeria with all our strength or NOT BY FORCE?
Again, To uphold her honour and glory
By inventing and re-inventing
Discovering and re-discovering wings and feathers
For pounds and dollars, to fly in billions and zillions?

REFLECTIONS

Salutations Lyricists, Poets, Writers, Musicians, Artistes......

In the aura of yesteryears, Some say "Tomorrow died yesterday", How far can this be proven, how hard can this be exclaimed over and over! That Tomorrow slumped, deceased in the tomb of Yesterday. Reflections, deflections, derelictions in acrimonious, yet in realistic premonitions. In this Niger-Area surrounded with the crust that flows with milk and honey, enveloped in scarce Diamonds, sumptuous gold, countless crude oil, the least goes on and on. And then asking "Did tomorrow die yesterday" ...Hmm... Reflections

A time to ponder, an hour to wonder for we are not mere Wanderers but Cameras that unleash freedom, peace, unity ....

Written by: Bankole Kolawole

I WILL JUST BE 'ME'

Lust has gained man's bliss,
Turned his cloud of Joy to fear unknown.
Turning his gaze from the caucus of peace
Rendering his Love, disowned, and left alone...

#BewareOfTheValentineƒʟυ!!!

BUT...
────(♥)(♥)(♥)────(♥)(♥)(♥) __ ɪƒ ƴσυ'ʀє αʟσηє,
──(♥)██████(♥)(♥)██████(♥) ɪ'ʟʟ ɓє ƴσυʀ ѕɧα∂σѡ.
─(♥)████████(♥)████████(♥) ɪƒ ƴσυ ѡαηт тσ cʀƴ,
─(♥)██████████████████(♥) ɪ'ʟʟ ɓє ƴσυʀ ѕɧσυʟ∂єʀ.
──(♥)████████████████(♥) ɪƒ ƴσυ ѡαηт α ɧυɢ,
────(♥)████████████(♥) __ ɪ'ʟʟ ɓє ƴσυʀ ρɪʟʟσѡ.
──────(♥)████████(♥) ɪƒ ƴσυ ηєє∂ тσ ɓє ɧαρρƴ,
────────(♥)████(♥) __ ɪ'ʟʟ ɓє ƴσυʀ ѕɱɪʟє.
─────────(♥)██(♥) ɪƒ ƴσυ ηєє∂ α vαʟ,
───────────(♥)ɪ'ʟʟ ɓє ƴσυʀ ɓєʟσvє∂.
────────────── ɓυт αηƴтɪɱє ƴσυ ηєє∂ α ƒʀɪєη∂,
────────────── ɪ'ʟʟ ʝυѕт ɓє ɱє.


Written by: Bamgbade Bams Adetoyese
Edited by: Bankole Kolawole

'Messiles' Dwarf

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Ago:

Merciless was the scene he vented.

Dressing the round leather with untrusted legs.

Despite endless sprinkles of dollars on Stable,

His dwarf-like stature; visibly unchangeable.

Seemingly impossible, yet believable,

This diminutive Ball Lord, hardly admirable,

Still, Breaks and sets records under the Sun

Religiously with reckless abandon.

This "Aje", the Argentine,

Magical with deftest of touches,

Befalling Giants with ease, 'Kai'!

'Ebora' - an aura of a Beastly might.

91 times, several nets strangely shook,

Unconventionally conventional Book

Of Records marveled at your foot

What a thought for food...!

When imbecility turns Dexterity;

Inferiority assumes Superiority.

Even when your foundation seem faulty

Its aftermath rebirth a sturdiest Solidity.

Consecutively consistent,

Hilariously magnificent;

Authentically effervescent.

...Lost in superlatives...what a fertile Imbecile!

You unleashed your Legendary Hill

Built on raw talent, spawning that Seed

The 'Hard Ball-workers' frantically need.

And without Bias, the World indeed stood still!



PS: "Aje" is a Yoruba (one of Nigeria's 3 major languages) word for "Wizard".