FOCAL POINT

The world has bifocal vision

It will not always see you in the same way

If you're never at one focal point

People will always see you in different way

The Duality of social status;

When you have, and When you lack

When you are the provider, and when you need provision 

When you rise, and When you sink 

When you succeed, and when you fail

When you're lounging on the clouds and when you're lingering in the sewer

Will they still honour you? Or will they disrespect you now?

Watch your worth decrease or increase before their eyes

You'll never be looked at as the same person 

Even though your name never changed

You'll be branded a new persona when you win everything or lose everything 

You'll never be the same 

So will your environs and it's subjects 

Strangers, friends, family and loved ones

Mannerisms will depend on your social status 

Maybe they'd listen to you when you're someone 

Maybe they wouldn't have if you're no one

When you move from one focal point 

They'd look up to you or down on you

Society is a lens

And it's bifocal 

Such is the Physics of life 

Talent

I envy you. 

I wish I knew wot you know, I wish I had wot you have, I wish I could do wot you do. 

I wish you would look deep inside you and realise the resource that you have. 

Fortunately... talent never dies. Unfortunately... some let it go to waste.

LOVE

Everyone's a character in this chapter, annals of history 

Like Time, an unsolved mystery  

Probably the most misunderstood word in the universe

Perhaps the most misused noun and verse 

So much that we gotta put an adjective before it... 'real', 'true'

Cos we sometimes mistaken sympathy for love

Love for weakness

Lust for love 

Some offer love with terms and conditions like it's a pact 

With credentials and expiry dates intact

Some say it's a game of hide and seek 

Love never finds them, so they say it's blind

And then they go seeking, and say it's hard to find

The lucky ones proclaim it's a beautiful kind

And then later say it hurts

Because It cuts deep, they bleed... healing is worst  

Things we do for love... So bad that you listen to your heart and never use your brain

So much that you can lose your mind and still be sane

It becomes your air

A god you can't live without, leaving is warfare 

It becomes your drug, your narcotic 

Paradox; the pain is from the analgesic 

More like the cure is the disease

You love because it feels good

You love so much even when love hurts

Even though you hate that you love so much 

You're a beneficiary of love at the same time a victim of addiction

And your days are filled with manic-depressions 

Mood swinging like a pendulum 

paradox; that which gives you relief and joy can give you pain

You say you leaving but you still peeking at the door

Whatever you love you invest your soul 

Love is beautiful, love is powerful

Learn to love yourself first 

Love.. But don't lose your head

Follow your heart but carry your mind along

TOMORROW

It’s vague
Like a thick fog that plagues
Even if tomorrow is near
I still can’t see clear
My sharp focus is nothing but an image that’s blur
“Mirror mirror on the wall”
I strain, but I don’t see anything at all
This paradox must be one hell of a kind
Because I am not blind
Nor have I been blindfolded
Nor has my sight been eroded
But I still can’t foresee
That which is in store and that which befalls me

It’s vague
Like a thick gloomy cloud that plagues
Like a mighty fog in its wake
Verily, I’m not daft
But I still have no idea
Truthfully, I’m quite smart
But my wisdom still don’t come near
Who knows tomorrow?
If you have the answer, can I borrow?
I’m utterly lost in oblivion, I don’t know my fate
Don’t know what the next moment will serve on my plate
My imagination is pitch black blank as a clean slate
Cos it’s very strange
How in a second, circumstances could change

It’s vague
The future is a veil
Yet they still delude us more with silly horoscopes
The future is the only thing you’ll never see in the barrels of telescopes
Nor crystal balls
Nor in the stars, calabashes and cowry shells
Should I ever listen to these fortune tellers?
So they could lie more than door mats and spin me like propellers?
Isn’t Time cunning?
Maybe that’s why soothsayers never see death coming
If they say ignorance is bliss
Then I leave this biz to the one who taught me how to write this
Only the inventor of time know it’s pathways
Let me put my trust in God always

BEAUTY

Beauty

Most often optically subjective 

This they say "beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder"

But most of the time it is short-lived 

Prone to extinction 

When beauty is written boldly all over your face

When they see you, they praise you

And The mirror proclaims it

Even God knows it

But Beautiful faces will change phases

All will fade away like the acoustics of an echo

Decaying with time 

Not like fine wine, but like fruits perishing

Look at the beautiful faces time is peeling 

Look at beauty withering away like leaves

Every year, every other birthday a part of your beauty depletes 

Your Organic Youth is going stale

The years are leaving ageing contours 

The once moisturised soft skin folds into terraces of wrinkles 

That pitch black silk hair will dry into grey matter  

All of a sudden that skin doesn't glow no more 

You were/are once a beauty goddess but not forever

That's the power of time

It clothes you with beauty and then takes it away

You can't fight ageing

Cosmetic surgeries can't hide traces of an old woman of mankind 

A beautiful face is prone to extinction 

But a beautiful personality is immortal 

Inner beauty will never lose purity

Parallel

I believe we are all alike in some way. Most of the time We think the same thoughts. What ever idea you have, someone has thought of it already. Sometimes I see someone doing exactly wot I have in mind and wonder. You can never call it idea theft can you? I believe in parallel destinies, that there are certain people inclined to certain similarities. Never be to proud of 'your great idea', it's all from God! 

THE SCRIBES

No tapes, but they're recording

The quill tip, the ball of the pen is dribbling

The Shame beneath is rumbling

The Guilt of a sinning believer is lingering 

Adrenaline... Gushing..

Droughts hunger for this kind of flooding 

I'm reeking... 

the odour of regret is reefing 

Because Angels are busily scribbling

The Holy pens are bleeding

Sacred Ink is spilling

Staining books of deeds

Tainting chapters of creed 

They say Angels are excellent scribes

One on the left, one on the right 

Their job is to write like they never left

Every wrong and every right

Profound perfectionists, never to miss a thing

Or ever run out of ink

May the writer of good be kept busy

And the author of evil deeds get sleepy 

If it's a public hearing, God is listening 

Forever a Witness, Jehovah is in every private business 

Man I'm Terrified 

Horrified that I may be vilified  

statements of my own accounts rendered

Book of life or book of death, where will my name be entered?

Every time, though no cameras and CCTVs watch

When it ticks, Every action, every word always under their watch 

This is 24 hour surveillance, life sentence

Micro decibels of every whisper is audible in great heavens 

The devil is always preying

Man I need to keep praying

Tired of running, tired of tumbling

Fatigued from carrying...

... This guilt of sin is a heavy burden 

But A reminder for a believer  

To embrace repentance before the grim reaper

May God's mercy find me before Eternal damnation 

VIM

Vim is a wild, ferocious instinct

No calm, no chill, no peace... Just a fusion of passion and emotion 

Vim is a voracious hunger that cannot be satisfied 

Vim is overcoming your weakness and the willingness to transform your mistakes

Vim is a drive that has no brake, more than a Bugatti engine 

Vim is ambition, building a staircase to the sky, step by step

Vim is the belief that you can move a mountain 

Vim is power and energy and time

Vim is hope and belief and perseverance

Vim is resilience, getting up after a knockdown, ready to fight again 

Vim is strength

And true strength is mental 

Vim is loud and instrumental. 

WAR

Scarier than a Lion's roar 

Life... maybe a brawl, maybe a war

Everyday and every night 

not a warrior, but I fight

I fight to live, i live to fight

Like a gallant knight

Relentlessly for more than four dozen fortnights 

Do you rely on wot you see?... I'm not selling a rumour

you probably doubt me cos you don't see me in a bright shiny amour

Then again you conceive heavy doubt 

Just because you don't see me flinging punches in a bout

In case you wonder... I'm not a ruthless Pugilist

Neither a wrestler, nor a martial  specialist 

I do not wield a sword, Nor a shield

Never seen.. Never been in a scene of battlefield 

But in my mind I've faced the fiercest battles

Beneath those cognitive crevices, my arch enemy rattles

There's a war front at the hind of this mind

Life, No trifles for rifles in this kind of grind

I face wot I don't see but that which I can perceive

Barricades of self doubts... No cease fire, No relief

Battalions commanded by disbelief 

Legions of voices that attack my fears, worries and grief

Life is war

Though we don't always see wounds and gore galore

Birthed into this pride

born into this wild

Can I adapt? Is survival on my side? 

Good lord, good God, this mind is a ring 

Where I wrestle myself within 

And quarrel with my thoughts, more or less... I guess

It's stress, Cos Sometimes I need to say no when my soul says yes

And rebel against all the lies

And tell myself if it ain't worth it, don't ever sacrifice nor compromise Never rationalise 

It doesn't always mean peace when there's silence

The roughest violence resides in the brain, where the ambience is silence 

We do not see, but Hearts are arenas 

Where we bob and weave against nibbling temptations like piranhas 

How do you build defences without fortifying offences

We all wage war against insecurities 

Who wouldn't slay poverty?

No wonder we sometimes fight change 

And Time and freedom within our range

Sometimes We lose, sometimes we win 

Sometimes We are heroes, sometimes fallen soldiers to the villain

I can't say I like this daily rampage 

Buh I can say I like this lifetime challenge

True strength is mental 

A strong mind is instrumental 

Weep

Weep you might

All day and all night

With all your might

Cry all you want

Wail till you can't 

Get on your knees 

Beg as you please

It won't bring her back

It can't bring him back

Tears never revive

Tears never resurrects any victim of demise

It only stains faces

And ruins make ups and joyful phases

You can't reverse it

No one could've revert it

Even though you wish you could

Or think you would

Weep you might

You can't save yourself

Nor can you win pity with all your wealth

There's no escape even with good health

When it comes it glides

No where to hide

Weep you might

Mighty waterfalls

Maybe Niagara Falls

Cry rainfalls 

Cry rivers 

Cry Denials

And wail... Till you lungs call for a ban

as loud as you can

To disturb the peace of everyone 

if those echoes filled all the corners of the earth's size

It still wouldn't suffice

never loud enough to rouse any compromise

Weep you might 

There's no bargain

Nor trade... Either vastness or grain 

Life is not a loan 

You cannot postpone 

Born alone, depart alone

Humanity cannot save you

Angels can't rescue you

Your beloved 'gods' can only stare... 

... If only they can dare

Priests can't intervene

Saints can't intercede 

Prophets couldn't avail themselves

So Who are your helpers?

Where are your lovers?

Are they of any help?

Where art they be, when you need them most?

nearby or far out of reach?

Weep you might

All day all night

With all your might

Cry all you can

Wail till you can't 

Get on your knees

Beg as you please

When that time comes

None interrupts

None adjourns

Nor delays nor hastens 

When death comes, 

may Our Lord be pleased with us

May God favour us

Amen

Money

Money! Money!! Money!!!

You must be the mother of false deities.

You summon men and make them fall to their knees

You must be a gorgeous goddess... You charm mankind too well

They love so fierce, their lust forever will last, in obsession they dwell... 

Ever violent in their pursuit for wealth

Fully Devoted in worship of it 

The Lengths, the odds and limits they would transcend

The desire of luxury drives him insane 

And makes him do crazy unthinkable things

The things he would trade;

He'd sell his soul, shed blood and sacrifice lives 

For just paper, that is flammable, that can be crumbled or torn or destroyed 

For currency notes...

... The highest badge of respect

Everybody pacifies you when you can make it rain

Tell me what chance do you have? What honour? Who cares? ...

... when your wallet is drier than harmattan

And when your pockets are shallow and leaking much worse than a sieve

That's the reality; poor people can't even afford attention

only the wealthy can buy 'dreams'

They can offset the hefty dowries, the huge luxurious weddings...

I mean... they can get the most glamorous lady

... Money can buy love huh? Or is it a love potion they mean?

Money, 

The routes to vanity

the roots of evil

The abominations stemming from it.

 Always prompting necessary evil 

They say Money can buy happiness

But I wonder why rich people can't immunise depression

Or purchase a panacea to their woes 

Or maybe they can only buy things that briefly make them happy

Why can't we bargain with death...

Or buy some extra time... Some life

What would it cost you? How much?Blood, sweat, tears, faith, prayer?

Either way, Money can't save our souls 

Yet some still try and die trying

Money, you charm men too well

The Storm You Should Never Calm

Sometimes we can't help it, we just can't keep calm. We all have that burning desire and ravenous feeling within, to achieve something and to reach our goals. An instinct that always fails to relinquish. That wild drive that cannot be tamed, that storm that cannot be calmed, that conflagration that cannot be extinguished, that flood that can wipe out an entire drought but I guess most of us have gotten to a point where our patience and perseverance run out and everything died down to a candle flame. The greatest legends all had the chance to give up, quit and walk away. Frank Sinatra, Steve Jobs and Mohammed Ali all plummeted from the peak of their careers but they all found a way to reset. Maybe It always takes an extra mile, an extra ounce, an extra penny, an extra minute, an extra iota of belief for God to open that breakthrough. Maybe there's another way you haven't found yet, another method you haven't discovered yet, a different route you haven't trekked yet, someone you haven't met yet or serendipity you haven't embraced yet. Wot job do you have if you quit anyway? Whether you're someone in the gym struggling to lose weight or gain muscle, whether you're having it tough starting a company, whether you want to take your career to the next level, whether you're having difficult times finding a job, whether you're writer that wants to get published, an athlete who wants to get to the big stages, a student struggling to finish school, a business man trying to rake in the revenues or anyone who's putting in work and hoping for results... The #VIM you have will always take you somewhere farther than where you started. Try a little harder, keep pushing and praying till something happens. One step is better than none if you use the staircase. Slow motion is better than no motion if you using the escalator. God sees our efforts, our hopes, our perseverance, our patience and hears our pleas. Fortunes always miraculously turn in life and God has the wheel. God bless our hustle, and May destiny favour us. VIM!!

Man 

It was once said that we are borne to violence

That it's all about "can my violence conquer your violence?"

Women say men are wicked, men say likewise... I wonder which party is right.

some of us are just monsters in human flesh they say

But Can I lend you a piece of my mind?

I dispute;

We are all borne into innocence 

Look into the eyes of a baby

Are you not amazed by the beauty God's creation?

Those giggles and sharp cries.

How fragile and harmless he/she is.

Completely Free off sin.

Given to pure naivety and ignorance.

It is true, ignorance is sometimes bliss.

Because sometimes, knowledge and intelligence only increases our stupidity.

But time will soon clothes us

Adorn us with knowledge and wisdom

The foster home we call Society will soon groom us 

Now This is where the segregation of unity begins.

Everybody gets tagged to an affiliation; 

And pledges allegiance to that alliance

Religion, tribe, race, nationality...

Assigned to different social classes

Then we gradually forget that we are one species... From one beginning.

And any subtle difference is enough to ignite a rebellion.

So we hunt our own kind.

And Kill each other... Vegetarian cannibals

We take delight in other's harm

Wars erupt

Invasions loom

Tribal tendencies and Religious differences spread wide 

All because we belong to a different group

Just Because we differ

We differ in color, race, tribe and dialect

We differ in belief and ideology 

The irony: the land we all fight for will soon cover us up.

Nature is filled with so much variety

Because Variety is beautiful

That's why we vary

So that we can appreciate the differences

So that we can share our variations

We are all borne different 

Each individual completely unique

But we are one family... Just distant relatives

As legendary Mandela said "it's our compassion that binds us together"

Are we borne into violence?

Or are we borne to innocence?

I dispute...

Don't kill

I try

I've tried so many times

It's probably the 1000th time

Maybe I've even lost count

I'm stuck 

I'm stuck in this daily recitation and rehearsal of trying to give life to my dream

Resuscitation probably can't revive this 

My mind is wondering where Glory is wandering 

I'm reeling from something real

And It's killing me

Though I wanna keep the hope alive

I feel like putting a gun to my talent 

And end the madness 

Because they say that insanity is doing the same old thing in repetition

If that's really true, then I'm enjoying the craziness of this competition

I strive! I strive!!

they say hard work pays

Buh I'm wondering why the cheque is coming at a snails pace

Every man enjoys the fruits of their own toil they said

but I'm still in drought season 

Though the prospects are in the hind sight of my blind side

The Lord can open the floodgates of all the avenues to revenues 

From outta something new that I never knew

I'm thinking of putting a gun to my talent and ending the madness

To lay it to rest... in peace 

But the voices in my head won't allow me to live in peace 

"try a little harder", "Just One more time"

Because I'm already addicted

An addiction no detox can flush out

Because the dream won't let me sleep

And the hunger for success keeps me awake

No! I don't wanna feel defeated

There's no job vacancy for quitters anyway 

So I ask myself everyday 

"when will the glory come"

My puny mind can't bear the imagination 

Only God knows... Maybe not today, maybe someday

But I can't say I'll stop trying

I'm stuck! I'm stuck!!

I'm stuck in this daily recitation that better days will seek me while I seek them until we meet at crossroads 

In the end I'm not scared that I'll fail, I'm just terrified I'd regret giving up

So Let me tell the critics and myself 

"don't kill my vim"

Destiny 

Wot a mystery

They say it's in our own hands 

They lied, didn't they?

Because we can't control wot Life presents to us

It's a freight we can't carry

We plan, God plans

We plan, God disposes 

We dream, but we wake up to a different reality.

The past has already happened

It may be gone but it has already redefined your life.

it's implications still ripples across the present

To a future that is already happening 

Though we are not there yet

We can only imagine

Tomorrow will come, buh it wouldn't meet everybody 

We can only imagine, but it's all up to destiny

Our expectations are only projections into the future 

No matter how we invest in it, it's all up to destiny

It may or may not be fulfilled 

You can never get it exactly right

Our predictions and surveys are subject to the forces of life 

We can only control our reactions to wot life throws back at us

Every choice that we make opens a door to infinite possibilities 

Our decisions define our paths, we can only move our feet.

Our destinies are beyond our control... But how we react in the end is us for the taking.

A SINNERS REDEMPTION

Last night was another session of regression
He’s about to repeat the same sin at the same scene despite the repercussions.
He’s tired of sinning, tired of rehearsing the same insanity.
He’s tired of being a devoted slave child to vanity.
Fatigued from all the atrocity.
It’s hard to get things off your chest, cause it’s hard to bench press the temptations.
It’s like every night is a date with evil.
I feel like my calendar schedule was planned by the devil.
No spaces and vacancies for a righteous revival.
Virtues can’t topple the vices
And the sins are climbing higher than fuel prices
Higher than polls, yet I can’t win any vote of confidence.
He wishes he could flee the guilt, but the heart is an inescapable residence.
Feels like the guilt stocks his wardrobe and fills his fragrance.
Everywhere he goes, he wears them feeling like a hypocrite.
Clearly he can see his religion slowly slipping away in secret.
So he can’t visit the Holy Scriptures anymore with a clean conscience and without interference.
The guilt won’t allow him… always demanding a gate clearance.
He buries his hope in the doubt that God will reject his repentance.
He can’t remember the last time he was a guest at the sanctuary.
Though he used to be a tenant and pledged residence till his obituary.
But the guilt of sin will promise to evict him with all possible interventions.
So much that he’s losing hope about the privileges of a sinner’s redemption
Or the blessings of a believer’s salvation,
All he rather thinks about is God’s wrath and condemnation.
He’d rather the devil be his council than God be his attorney.
Cause he’s fed up of going back on all the promises and covenants.
So he wonders if all his credits of forgiveness are all stale, depleted and quaint.
And he wonders if he could borrow the favors of a Holy saint.
Heart stomping like a stampede from the feet of African elephants.
Pounding in terrible fear… so loud and evident
In grief that today will be the end of my time, and that his book of deeds have nothing relevant.
I know my mind is a confessions box, and I know God hears me whenever I meditate.
Cause the mind is a temple, even though there are crevices everywhere in this huge estate.
Never feel like you’re too devil enough to ask for a clean slate.
Nobody is free from sin, none of the nuns.
Not the priests nor the preacher man.
The best of sinners are those who go back to their Lord for forgiveness… regardless of everything else.
so Lord forgive me...