Chaos.

It was that era

The time of destruction

Lead, fired, executed

By a single man

A knight of the night

A warrior in black cloak

One who has broken free

From the shackles of mortality

Simple yet dangerous

It was that era

When the single man

Watched and laughed

At the brilliant chaos

Right before his eyes

Luminous street lamps

A million heads in view

Armoured tanks and bomb shells

An entrance and barricades

Assuming their partial,interim places

Fearless and dauntless

The soldiers would match

To the death or to live again

For camelot or for what’s not

Fight, they must

Defying all odds

And even the grim reaper’s

I honestly don’t know if this title fits the description. I wrote this sometime ago and here I am sharing it with you guys. 

Poetry is beautiful, I tell you. Don’t scroll past this. Enjoy!

Blue Devils.

Earlier today, whilst sorting some of the books and jotters I had, I came across some poems I wrote. 

Hey! Wait there before you turn your back on that word. I know it’s the most unlikely go-to for a number of people but this was how I started writing. This is my niche too. Poetry is my everyday love;  random poetry, Islamic ones (not necessarily here but on other platforms ). So before you toss this, give it a try will ya! 

Standing up, gaze afar 

Mesmerised by the beauteous creation 

Lost in thoughts, in your own world 

On your own, finding your way 

The winds and tides tilting edgeways 

And the gentle tap of life’s hard knock 


Squatting again, tears abound 

Eyes as red, as red and hot 

Chewing over the inadequacies of man 

Woe betides the ungodly folk 

The real bete noire is thine own self 

Pushing and pulling with no hint of hit 


Piles on Piles, life’s storage is stacked 

With loads of files save it’s deleted 

Even when it’s brought to near nothingness 

Enough can still be salvaged somehow 

Life’s hurts can be forgotten – ephemeral 

Its grip after a while is profound 


“It’s a hard knock life “, a young girl sang 

A foster kid with little hope 

“As long as there’s life, hope is there”

Reviewing a quote I once read 

Ironies of it all so vividly clear 

This hope they lose and gut themselves 


The gentle tap, the red flag 

Before the hard knock heavily descended 

Not tickled pink I guess, it’s all that afterall 

The insecurities of life 

Is whitewashed with a smile 

Only when we see the world 

Through rose coloured glasses 

Hope you enjoyed this little adventure in Jason Statham’s voice. Now before anyone starts talking to me about football clubs, here’s what blue devils mean ( in my arena ).

blue devils

noun plural

: low spirits : despondency

Examples

  • eating alone always gives me a fit of the blue devils

First use1781

Synonymssadnessbluesdejectiondepressiondesolation,desponddespondencedespondencydisconsolateness,dispiritednessdoldrumsdolefulnessdownheartedness,drearinessdumpsforlornnessgloomgloominessglumness,heartsicknessjoylessnessmelancholymiserablenessmopes,mournfulnessoppressionsorrowfulnessunhappiness

Antonymsblissblissfulnessecstasyelatednesselation,euphoriaexhilarationexuberanceexultationfelicitygladness,gladsomenesshappinessheavenintoxicationjoyjoyfulness,joyousnessjubilationrapturerapturousness


Until next time friends. Have a great night/weekend!

Throes of Survival.

 

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#DailyPost
Destitutes they were, those gems uncovered
The ores unrefined, so was their look
The ghettos their homes; dark and dingy
Assumed to be of trivial value
Treated like they were the opposites of homo sapiens
Their lives of constant struggles, not a sham

Dawn breaks, they’re out of their dwellings
To school, no; the streets, aye!
Hawking goods through the day
Right in the middle of Lagos roads
Charging after cars in the moving traffic
For the meagre amount they hope to realize
A thousand beads of sweat adorning their faces
Their clobber drenched in their own perspiration

Racing themselves in the midst of moving wheels
And roaring playful malisons against themselves
They’ve made the job their funfair
Laughing at their own clumsiness
They soon forget their sore shapes
After the days’ deals, they cluster and chatter
A bevy of young bright individuals

Filthy and sweaty; to their shelters they return
Their ensemble bedecked with sweat stains
Farmished and spent; their belliies they settle
Then they fade into oblivion – to Camelot
Their abodes of tranquil and abundance
Signs of their long, hard struggles no longer evident

Exposed to the harshest of realities
A ray of hope in their foggy days
They live their lives, smiles adorning their worn faces
Daily earnings – their turning points
And they seem to share more than the rich
Mankind is so obtuse
For they treat these jewels with open disdain

A lot of car-owning, ego-pumping individuals look down on people who sell their wares between traffic, by the roadside.  This, amigos, does not apply to the rich alone but to every common individual; middle-class or poor. In a lot of ways, these people (the hawkers- for lack of a better word) are so much better than those who sit in the comfort of their homes  and extort people or those who openly snatch people’s properties or………fill in every other vice you know. These ones  spend what is called “clean cash“, the generous rewards of their actual struggle. This portion of their lives, I believe, is polishing them for greater, better things (this much I know). It is saddening that some young, agile, completely healthy  individuals have adopted the “beggars’ style“. Did anyone ever say greatness comes cheap? Our lives could be likened to an ore, quite raw at first. Before the gold is extracted, it has to go through some massive heat. We all would encounter our tests, like it or not. Making life easy for someone struggling to survive brews a kind of sweetness and satisfaction
within ones’ soul, at least I think so. If you are in the “rich kid” crew, make the most of it (in a good way), it’s a privilege some others can’t afford.
PS: In the midst of a traffic at Ikeja, I met a man who had his lower extremities paralyzed legs. His job – assisting traffic officials.
…….for the laborer is worthy of his hire!

The dilemma of that African Beauty

There goes the ravishing beauty
Black, silk-textured smooth skin like a babys’
Like a baby’s soft, tender exterior
She’s got a perfect face
Beautiful eyes – they say like a dove’s
Pert nose – quite aesthetic
Well shaped mouth – comely, isn’t it?
Beauteous ear – oh, how they fall!
On her head grew long, curly hair
Typical of one of African descent

Dawn’s clear light brought the sun
That face was struck by its grandeur
Sparkling like stars, the eyes danced
And on them were magnificient lashes
Nose standing in all its elegance
On the lip, a thin film of gloss lay
And the face primmed with a layer of talc
Graceful curves and great charisma
When she speaks you’re left in a daze
How incomplete is this if omitted
Her sound character and amiable personality
An icon she was

In this age of experiments anmd chemicals
That beauty, to her, lost its meaning
The fetish to become a Kardashian
Beclouded her sense of reasoning
On that head now lay artificial hair
With an array of colours, ghetto, it’s called
To be an ebony, now out of fashion
That palish-looking white is her delusion
A grimy visage to an otherwise flawless mass
Thus an immaculate soul was defiled

With topless tops and bottomless skirts
She roams the streets
Catcalls, whistles; all deception
For no man wants a counterfeit, a gyp
Shapen the nose, botox to the face
Only distorting what He hath made
Looks lost, faculties gone
That African beauty went AWOL
Flippantly cocky and implicit
She was a lost cause
A faultless diamond
Deflowered by civilization
Now a cause célèbre
But what can we do

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The fair ones want to be fairer, the dark ones want to be fair.
Black is beautiful in all its shades but it seems less people see it these days. Men consider fair girls beautiful so I want to be fair, I want to expose a little so they can fall, and a lot of inconsequential things that run through a lady’s medulla. Remember Cinderalla didn’t have to expose herself and she was the belle of the ball, covered doesn’t equate to ugly. Melanin-rich girls are also really beautiful. There’s a reason you were given that natural color, it’s your niche where you are most beautiful.
There’s this project by Angelica Dass, a brazilian photographer, that reflects on the colors beyond the borders of our codes. She acquires this by referencing with what she calls the pantone color scheme. Humanae is what her chromatic inventory is called. It really is an interesting work in progress you could check it out. humanae.tumblr.com/

Black is bold, Black is beautiful and our kinky hair is out of this world. #peace

Drift

Singing in the meadow, under the bright blue sky
The horizon afar like a thin long line
Clouds in the sky, with silver linings
And the sun coming up, on a bright morn
Crystal clear droplets, of dew drops on leaves
Birds chirping in harmony, like an orchestra
Grasses so green and pleasing to the eye
Sweet scented flowers, hmm, what a fragrance
Beautiful black snake, small but scary

The gardens a maze, you could get lost in them
Trees standing, bearing bountiful ripe fruits
Plantation in the distance, wow, what a sight
Eagles swooping, for animals to feed on
The vultures on the lookout, for dead fallen preys
Beautiful white rabbit, hopping in style
Hunting for carrots to quench its hunger
And Presto! It disappeared
Egrets, white and beautiful, playing in the meadow
Cows grazing in the nearby bush
Swans so graceful, in their white coats
Butterflies so colorful, sucking nectars
And ofcourse, termites in their mounds; their home of sand
Ants so microscopic, so minuscle
In search of food for their weary selves

Suddenly the clouds grew dark
First was a drizzle
Then pellets
Then came the heavy rain
The streets were flooded, stalls deserted
And back at the meadow
The egrets flew, like imminent preys
The sun vanished like ’twas never there
Rabbits had since long gone to their abodes
Birds leapt in the air in obvious disarray
Beautiful flowers pelted by little stones of ice
Trees shaking in synchrony with the earth’s tremor
Colorful flowers arose, heavens! So much color
Like in a rainbow’s dome
So was nature at the brink of change
As quiet as a graveyard and deserted like the last day
Still the beauty can’t be beaten
Of this green, colorful nature.

Finally, I put up something. “Pardon me for my first is insipid.” Started with some oldies. Had to do something to fill the emptiness of this blog. I really hope I can be consistent with this. My compositions won’t compare with those of people I hold high but they are the outrageous rants originating from “that place”. Like Dami Ajayi might say this is a “temporary lodge for thoughts in transit”.
Read and leave a remark. Graçias.