Switup:
I would appreciate readers very much

Keep it coming bae

We are reading in silence

From our desk in our offices

From couch in our living room

from every sphere where we were ordained to be at moment

No curse for alarm and nothing could stop you again

God is your strength

Sweet popcorn for you

By this time, the the months had triumphantly galumphed to the month of October. October been the sopposed period when NYSC portal would be open for 2016 Batch B registration. Excitement was me personified and in one of those happy days, i took to my poetry book and declared

[center]The chills
The trills
And all its accompanying traits.
Oh! How i hope
To feel the zeal
That i have felt
Since i was Ten
That grace,
Amazing grace.
To serve my fatherland
With my seven on seven.
Azuwaya!!
To the forthcoming Corpersion.[/center]

Lets derail a little. When i was in primary two or four, cant really place it now, while returning from school with my fellow classmates one day, i caught sight of a dark, thick skinned(but no fat), curly-haired heighted female at the other end of the road. She exuded a certain kind of aura that i couldn't comprehend yet she looked rather unusual. Boots, white polo, army green khaki trousers and a small bag that cut across one side of her shoulder, through her breast and rested tentatively on the otherside of her hip. She was laughing and holding hands and talking as swagger along amidst two blokes that dressed just like her. Till today, i do not know why i remember her so vividly and she eill never know she was extremely admired that day. As she and her gang trudged further, i noticed that behind her Polo was written NYSC and from that day onward i had always wished to be a corper. And now i could sense this day drawing ever closer.

Sometime later, in the most recent past, when i relayed my crushing experience to a friend who asked me to describe this Unidentified Corper Person, what he said to me was "babe, all you've just done is describe your physique. Maybe God did some sort of time-machine thingy so you'll see what you'll look like in tge future with ur khaki.
* * * * * * * *

Among my favourite things, i love listening to Radio. I am yet to get a word for a person who totally totally loves listening to radio. Radio stations i admired varied from cool music radio stations to talk and news stations. At a time i had a schedule to know when one show was ongoing and when the other was to end.

So in one of those evenings, while listening to a talk show on Nigeria Info, i got a little pissed. The show was centered around Nigeria's famous Banky W and his new song which was trending at the time. The essence of the song was to pass a message to the Nigerian public that he(Banky) should not be coerced in to marriage by his fans on Social Media as they would not be there to save the marriage when it reached crisis. As a matter of fact, he was saying marriage should not be imposed on Single Mature Men.

The show got a bit heated when the phone lines were opened and callers began to air their veiw on the matter. Majority of the callers (whom i presume to be above thirty) were on Banky W's side and that was what got me even. And so i decided to peom on the matter but from my own perspective.

Much later, i came to realise that the song title of Mr Banky's hit is Gidi love(how nice).


[center]It takes two to tango
On a thread that is narrow.
And even when they be best by arrows,
They shall conquer their sorrows.
Be it in a deep hollow
Or just a road in a row,
Their wars shall not be known.

But whence a man grown,
And a woman blown
Choose not to head for the unknown
Hence, relapse so and merry in the known
For which even their poor hearts bleeds for more;
Their days, one in many is filled with bore.
And though they let their egos soar
Above nature's loving roar for care
Alas!
It is indeed that along with then they bear
The burden of loneliness so near.

But you there, beware
That he when at sixty eight and a year
Will he beget a maiden so dear
And for him shall she bear a son or maybe a pair.
And then will he get buried then next year
Because of how he had ageed.
And there will he leave behind a widow and an orphan so tender.

So why merry for so long in the known?
When i know
It takes two to tango in the unknown?[/center]

bring it on

Switup, I honestly never knew you write pretty well. I just saw you as a normal University student then, trying to snake out of the challenges then. It's cool to know sha.
I also write but I haven't written in almost 9 years now. Computing and figures drifted me away from things I loved including writing.

dabrake:
Switup, I honestly never knew you write pretty well. I just saw you as a normal University student then, trying to snake out of the challenges then. It's cool to know sha.
I also write but I haven't written in almost 9 years now. Computing and figures drifted me away from things I loved including writing.

wow, is this write up pretty well?? Thanx. I appreciate. And u should write not withstanding d year gap. Shebi me for four years i buried writing and here i am today. No give up no set back. My motto

Switup:
wow, is this write up pretty well?? Thanx. I appreciate. And u should write not withstanding d year gap. Shebi me for four years i buried writing and here i am today. No give up no set back. My motto

I looked at what i had just written. In one word, flabbergasted. Yours Truely was flabbergasted. I had just written that poetry without thinking twice nor pondering over the words. They just flowed like the words were dancing in the air. Amen church.

So early next morning, thanks to my King Soft Office editing, i forwarded a copy of this work to LovePoet, putting him under oath to tell me exactly what he thought of it. As much as i was shocked, he was amazed. He sure did ask 'who did this?' and when i told him i did, he shower me with praises that left me bedazzled.

Somehow, LovePoet did convince me that this was the best i had done in awhile(in other words, i should get angry often. Laughing out loud).

By now, i was certain of one thing namely i could write again, flawlessly atleast, without the regular hitch and ditch i often faced. This was truely an improvement and at this point, i realised i would never want to go back to d void that i had stuck myself in. It was such a Long emptiness. From the days when that Lady Mrs Graduate had been with my first story to the period when i was almost close to publishing my Yimga story, to my university days, ranging about a total of five years or so, i had loomed in such undermining state of being. And so, at d present, the thought of this new feeling made be determined to stay a writter even if the rest of my works were to end up like my first story or like its Yimga counterpart which at present is still in black and whilte and kept in my shelf like an archeological collection, i was ever ready to do the 'writing thingy'.

To accompany this determination, i thought of making an oath, something like a binding commitment that would keep me bonded with my new writing escapade yet a vow that would not be too far fetched, ridiculous or outrageous. While in thought, i got into writing again

So many a time,
I had sworn to quit
Those times soared in mind
Because i felt i would not get it.
And though i buried it in the depth
Haunted i was till i had sworn
That this time, in life or in death
I promise to go on
And write with indepth
Till i have won


10th October, i knew what my wow would be about. I was determined to write exactly 23 poetries and attach the date of writing of each piece. Now the reason for the twenty three poems would be a poem for a year, for all the years i have lived on earth. This oat wasnt outrageous although in my minds eyes it seem humongous because i did not even have a hand full of poem at that time and i was not a poetry person. The prose was me but not withstanding, the oath was an oath.

Furthermore, to add to that vow, i was determined to let my work reach a wider audience. Right from my early days whatever i wrote was seen only by my mom and maybe two or three other persons. This time around, to the extent i would, i want someone, anyone beyond the circle of my famiky to see my work. I needed to be critised, to be applauded and disdained. I needed the public eye.

And so i thought. I thought about how to publicize these poetries, i thought about how best to get this done, i thought about when and how to begin, i thought of ways to do this. Indeed during this period, i did alot of thinking.

I also wondered too. I wondered which social network would be best to achieve my goal. I wondered how i would succeed without a PC. I wondered if indeed anyone would want to read a boring charade of poetry. I wondered also about the many things i wondered about amd why i wondered about them.

In all these, i did not let random thoughts pass me by. These random thoughts most feuled my innards that i got writting again and this time, for the first time, the poem had a topic and a date and was numbered 7.(if you check back, i have written six poems already)

Broken Bones(7)
Bones are strong
Bones are for support
Bones do the work the whole body dares do.
Bones maketh a man.
But when the bones
Building a man
Ware and tear,
From affliction and confusion
What can you say maketh a man then?

Bones are strong
Bones are for support
Bones do the work the whole body dares do.
But when a friend closer than a brother
And loving as a sister
Breaks down in fighting
Illnesses sinister and harmful,
What can you say maketh life worth living then?

Bones are strong
Bones are for support
Bones do the work the whole body dares do.
But what is a bone
When it lacks nutrients?
No love just bumps
And prolonged loneliness
With fustration and delusion,
What can you say maketh a person not loved?

In every pain and gain then, i only hope that these bones of ours do not foil.{10:10:16}

And eleven days later, after an argument with an Atheist who wanted to prove a fact that neither the Bible nor God were relevant to life, i did this
Poem8
God made man
God made glory
And God made love
Then God made trouble
No! For God never made trouble
But trouble became man's
When God made rule.
For man dreaded rule
And ate the said fruit.
For which burden travailed against man.
Then God saw the trouble
That it had made man wobble.
For this trouble along with its pride
Brings Man's dreaded sorrow
Pain, more pain and death.
Thus, God made a good book
Just right to guide man
As any good dad would so do
To get his son back.
Now the good book God made
Was to make man manly
And to guide him to a sister called future.
But what does man do with God's good book?
For many its stored underneath a shelf
For others, it is archaic
And still for many others it is no good book.
You though, what do you think?
After God made man and God made glory and God made love,
Would not this God know and thus show
That even in Man's double trouble
He is God? And thus save Man from Man's woes? {22:1016}

sleeknick:

By mid October registration and processing of required documents had commenced by NYSC. I was beyond excitement as i hurried to the cyber café to carry out my obligations. Early one morning, i was already seated in a café doing what others around me were doing. On getting to my turn however, after registration and all, what popped up on my dash board was "your exemption certificate is been processed and will be delivered to your institution shortly".

"Exemption letter ke. There ought to be a mixup somewhere" i heard myself say.

Shortly thereafter, i began to make enquiries and that was when i got to know that the date of birth on my JAMB result was 1984. In otherwords, i was beyond Service age and would not be mobilized. Joke right?

For the good Lord's sake at this point of my life, i was so close to wearing my long dreamt about khaki and not ready to hear any mumbo jumbo balderdash. In truth, i already had my 21piece white C-neck Polos and white shorts, two pairs of Snickers and a pair of sock ready and packed.

With the right calls made, i was instructed to carry out some certain duties and then wait for the stream 2 batch that would be coming up the following year. As disappointed as it seemed i didnt see this setback as a hinderance to kill my joy instead, it was to me, an opportunity to write a poetry and so, i did this

POEM8
We was set for the D day
Packed were our luggage
And sealed were our items.

Flashback!
The first day we heard the call,
Fast like otondos we ran
Into those fancyful Cafés we sat
Not like we would be served Café.
Just to get a good state;
Maybe the Capital
Or just an oil city.
So we hoped
And we prayed
And some played too(life's not to be taken too seriously u know)
And then we waited.
Alas! Waited indeed we did.

Present!
So it is now; as we stare and glare,
The dash board saying Nay
And our arms crossed in fear
Because we dared
For what laid there.
Obvious now like never it is now clear
That our Whites still have to stay there,
In those boxes of ours
As we await the new year.
But sure i am now as i was before,

Future!
That tge morrow will soon be born
And that khaki i shall devour.
Amd so i continue to press on.
Life happens.
But a lovely grays haired Ma
Once told moi
That "when the lord closes the door, somewhere he opens a window. 23/10/16

For this piece, i went as far as uploading in it on Facebook because i felt others were affected too but i least expected positive returns because i felt this Social Media is meant for pictures and not bounty-filled write ups. Little did i jnow that i was in for something big as the Likes grew from five to fifteen to fifty and counting and comments were outstanding. Many of my Facebook friends rather found it odd that i could do this but definitely not Rawland Ofiyou, my long time friend from the Garden City Litrary Festival of 2010. After going through the piece, these were his words to me "i was quiet impressed but i wasn't a bit surprised when i saw that this came from you. I missed 'this' you."

With this poetry on FB, i felt ever determined to make and keep a writing vow that would enable me remain glued to the passion. So it was that i was ever so willing to keep to the twenty three poem vow , which i felt most appropriately would reflect a poem for a year for my years.

But to accomplish this, real thinkimg had to be done. First, i was yet to figure out which social media platform would be best to use. Second i felt i needed to own a PC since i felt a phone wont do the job so well.

Well after much contemplating, i decided that Nairaland be be suitable since i eould be exposed to a vast audience. But it had its own hitch because the poetry region of the Literature Section always had a poor turnover of audience as only a handful of persons were interested in poetry and i needed traffic(greedy me abi? Laughting out loud) and so i explored the Diary section and it bought in few readers aswell and so i finally decided to go for the literature section where i readoned that combining prose and poetry would do me a great deal of good. (But isnt it amusing that i didn't hit as much traffic as i estimated? Maybe i over hyped my writing potentials or just maybe this is not the suitable forum for this. But not withstanding, iWrite).

And so it was as i made up my mind to start this piece.

But in the main time, i got creative again

POEM9
If there is nothing
Then i must create it.
Even when there seems to be a dulling
Maybe as caused by the heat,
Fight indeed i must till it coming flaming.
Because i dare to be in it;
This dream I've been dreaming
Of my words as they come neat
Yes, with ideas swimming.
So much that in it i will so fit.
For i am now ready for so much of a drilling
To meet with, of course my needs.
So therefore, even if i scavenge and find nothing,
I truly must fight to create it.
Because its been the dream I've been dreaming.
Yes, indeed! To make it. 02/11/16
* * * * * *

As the year gradually trudged to its end, i awaited the forthcoming year with so much gusto. Meanwhile, here is a rundown of some events i missed out during the year. Sometime around September, i saw this online placement for poets who would like to write for a blog and get paid. I choose to participate as the offer was exciting namely wtite a short love message for the blog name Nigerian Love Messages and then get paid every weekend. One only got relieved of the writing sags if one does not meet up the required standard. Funny as it may seem, i got relieved off duty after submitting three poetries which i git paid for, reason been that, according to the Blogger who had linked me up, i was the most unserious participant.

Then as for NYSC, stream 1 left for their 21day camp on 25th November and were due back for 15th December and Your Truly waited triumphantly for 2017.

I think a blog would have been a better place to start. though you may not have a large view from the beginning but with time, pple interested in your niche will find ya blog.

We only but can set goals
And plans and ambitions
But we never can tell
For a certainty
If these plans of ours
The very desires of our mind eyes
Can ever be outlived.
For time
And occurrances
And events
Which we do not forsee
Fall before us all.
Yet,
When a new calendar year
Galumphs into our lives,
We make even greater plans
And only hope
That it all goes well. 01/01/2017poem10.

And this was how my 2017 began; with a poem of hope as hope is all we need to keep on the move not minding if the previous year had given us humongous setbacks. After hope, we must then begin to figure out how to fit into the new calendar or at least that's how i see it.

Well, the year came across to me with such a husky beginning. The air still smelt the same, just dry and dusty and lacking the effrontery to bring about the lucious feel of the strong Harmattan from the Sahara Desert.

Mid morning that 1st, a call came through and after much excitement and chattering about random talks, the caller at the other end of the line asked if i had already settled in into the year. So tempting a question because in reality, i had to struggle just to put up a smile; a lot had hit me lately. But i managed to say "I'll try to fix myself into it" pause "somehow".

I mean come to think of it, who wouldn't 'try to fix' oneself into a new year when the previous year had not ended well? First of, was caught in an emotional and psychological quagmire. Second, the disappointment of not joining my colleagues to Serve and third not having a job.(let me explain that prior to October, i was working but i had to quite my job as registration for Batch B 2016 Pre Corp Members commenced and for November and December i was so goddamn broke).

What could be the worse that could happen to a young girl if not been Jobless and penniless?(my fellow femmes would understand better).

Not that family and friends could not assist, but my ego was hitting on me.

Now the thing about going in search of a job in January was that i was not even sure of myself. There were questions hovering over my head. For instance, would it seem fair if as soon as i got a job, i quite it because Batch B Stream 2 list came out thereafter? People would apparently wonder why i applied for the job in the first place. But then, not having a job atall would mean me remaining broke and of course idle and worse of, becoming FAT. And recently, Yours Sincerely was gracefully turning into an overly-inflated ballon. Round chicks, chubby chin and flabby arms were taking shape in my poor frame. Poor me. But with all due respect, flat tommy was game as i did not let the king size features affect my Flat Tommy; my killer spot. Winks.

3rd January, i heard rumours that NYSC Batch B Stream 2 timetable was out and again i hurried to the Café to check my dashboard as i had been told to do. Still, no changes. The so-called exemption certificate was still been processed.

God of Mercy!!!

I got dailing again. I dailed all the NYSC Official Numbers at my reach and the responses were still the same and spontaneous "my friend wait! You have nothing to worry about". A couple of days later, i realized that i had a lot to worry about as i was told that the only way to resolve a Date of Birth Issue(after all the required rites had already been carried out) was to travel to the NYSC Head office, Abuja. Crazy!

Crazy i tell u.

Shabib:
I think a blog would have been a better place to start. though you may not have a large view from the beginning but with time, pple interested in your niche will find ya blog.

thanx. I think am thinking about that. Am like on a research now on how to start one.

Thank u and God bless for truly following

Your writing got me here. Don't let the fire go out. I have faith in you.

eyenibibio:
Your writing got me here. Don't let the fire go out. I have faith in you.

i got a new reader. Thanx eyinibibio

Switup:
thanx. I think am thinking about that. Am like on a research now on how to start one.

Thank u and God bless for truly following

No prob, sis.

Remember the earlier you start, the better.

You are old enough to go search for job at 30

Why bothered about serving? go get your exemption certificate and chill

hmmm this is nice.....those poems really got to me

i follow still

Adesina12:
You are old enough to go search for job at 30

Why bothered about serving? go get your exemption certificate and chill

am not 30. Am not even 5yrs close. JAMB error.

samyfreshsmooth:
hmmm this is nice.....those poems really got to me


i follow still

i still cut cap. Thankies

So I'm supposed to just pick up my bag and leave for Abuja? Just like that? Like it was just the next junction in my street i should be at? At the snape of a finger?

But really this Abuja trip we are talking about would take me averagely above 10hours to get there.

It took me two days to get myself prepared for the big journey day. (You know i needed to sort for money, a good place to pass the night and well, make all enquiries about this place i would be travelling to).

On the eve of the D-day, i logged on to the official NYSC website and this was what i saw, ' This Website is Officially not available '. In essence, what that meant was my sister don't even bother to go to anywhere tomorrow because you would not be able to do anything. In other words, Madam, you are not going to service this January. End of discussion.

To be sure, i made some late night calls. True. Batch B Stream 2 Corps were due for Service in less than four days.

I made sure to gulp down the last drop of the milk-tasty Hollandia Yoghurt 350l pack before i dumped it.

Relief.

This was definitely not the reaction you expected from Yours Affectionately right. I mean, if you've followed me on my NYSC big dream fantasy, the NYSC big dream poetries and of course the NYSC big dream packed whites(which were currently fading off), then you know i ought to be crying and wailing and sulking, feeling so devastated that finally I've missed out on my big bang beam. And the crying and wailing and sulking ought not to have stopped especially when i saw colleagues i graduated with, in their Khakis and their States posing and posting on facebook.

But nope. None of that happened. In all honesty, this news of Batch B stream two leaving for Service dlammed across my face, more like a relief than a plague. I somehow felt like David of the Bible(if you're acquainted with that David story about him, Bathsehbah, the adultery and the resulting ill baby); prior to the death of the ill infant, David mourned and fasted and would not eat but at the death of the baby did he eat and drink and merry. Not like he wanted death for the ill baby but at its death, he knew his worrying had come to a halt; there was this influx of relief. That was the same state i was in. In other words, i could now conveniently and comfortably hunt for a job and presently, i could conveniently and consistly focus on completing my 23-poem Writing Vow which was only 10poems up at the moment.

And so, the following day, after gulping down the last drop of the milk-tasty Hollandia Yoghurt 350l pack, i dumped it and picked up my pen to begin this new poetry which i considered to be unique and intricate, namly Addiction. I mean how can a Girl fighting those king size body features be loving Sugar this much? It was surely because of...

ADDICTION
[b]It always begins with an initial curiosity
That curiosity; a licence to a lot of awakening.
That feeling likened to the quest of a toddler
Ordinarily, just a desire
A flint of a desire
To know.
To explore.
To unwind.
But truely never to sink in deep
Or be stuck.
For No, that is never the real reason behind it,
Behind addiction.
That backbiting Leech
With which one is caged
And most usually never easily untangled.
You want to know how it works in Love?
I'll be damned if i didnt say.
They meet. Just a very regular meeting.
And when they do,
There's this initial curiosity.
Mind you, its always mostly never about the desire
Just curiosity.
A flint of curiosity.
To know
To explore
To unwind
Into this new personality; the new presence,
This being.
And so, there begins a constant contact
Which is never meant for concern
Only, just regular check ups and meet ups and hook ups.
All mostly never, no never with an intentions.
But then these are but bewild, self acclaimed thoughts.
Which only disappoints
When one realises
That life without the other being
The once not-so-into-you affair
Has indeed drenched into an unending relay of affection
And all its accompanying emotions.
And then, one is stuck wondering
Of how it all began.
But for God's sake i say
It was all a process to addiction.
Addiction to a lover.

You want to know how it works in drugs?
I'll most def tell.
On the instance
One is always so disgusted
Even at just the smell of it.
Until when a friend
Who feels damn good from it
Leaves you in a magnanimous discombobulation,
Then that desire
A flint of a desire,
To know
To explore
To unwind
With this new highness
That wonderful Utopia
Of which you had once and almost earnestly never wanted to explore.
But now there, caught, entwined in the wholeness of the web
Is what you become.
Already very so sober and yet still wondering
How it all began.
Well, its a cliche now, but indeed,
For God's sake its all part of the process to addiction.
That bad bad addiction.

And time shall pass me by
If i tell long and gory stories
Of addiction
Yes, addiction to wine and to women and to money and to food and to recklessness and to sex and to greed
Of which there is so much entanglement
And yet not so much a way of detachment.
I fear addiction.
And i fear addiction.[/b] POEM 11. 04/01/2017

Meanwhile looking back, this was such a long poem. Lord have mercy.

Switup:
So I'm supposed to just pick up my bag and leave for Abuja? Just like that? Like it was just the next junction in my street i should be at? At the snape of a finger?

But really this Abuja trip we are talking about would take me averagely above 10hours to get there.

It took me two days to get myself prepared for the big journey day. (You know i needed to sort for money, a good place to pass the night and well, make all enquiries about this place i would be travelling to).

On the eve of the D-day, i logged on to the official NYSC website and this was what i saw, ' This Website is Officially not available '. In essence, what that meant was my sister don't even bother to go to anywhere tomorrow because you would not be able to do anything. In other words, Madam, you are not going to service this January. End of discussion.

To be sure, i made some late night calls. True. Batch B Stream 2 Corps were due for Service in less than four days.

I made sure to gulp down the last drop of the milk-tasty Hollandia Yoghurt 350l pack before i dumped it.

Relief.

This was definitely not the reaction you expected from Yours Affectionately right. I mean, if you've followed me on my NYSC big dream fantasy, the NYSC big dream poetries and of course the NYSC big dream packed whites(which were currently fading off), then you know i ought to be crying and wailing and sulking, feeling so devastated that finally I've missed out on my big bang beam. And the crying and wailing and sulking ought not to have stopped especially when i saw colleagues i graduated with, in their Khakis and their States posing and posting on facebook.

But nope. None of that happened. In all honesty, this news of Batch B stream two leaving for Service dlammed across my face, more like a relief than a plague. I somehow felt like David of the Bible(if you're acquainted with that David story about him, Bathsehbah, the adultery and the resulting ill baby); prior to the death of the ill infant, David mourned and fasted and would not eat but at the death of the baby did he eat and drink and merry. Not like he wanted death for the ill baby but at its death, he knew his worrying had come to a halt; there was this influx of relief. That was the same state i was in. In other words, i could now conveniently and comfortably hunt for a job and presently, i could conveniently and consistly focus on completing my 23-poem Writing Vow which was only 10poems up at the moment.

And so, the following day, after gulping down the last drop of the milk-tasty Hollandia Yoghurt 350l pack, i dumped it and picked up my pen to begin this new poetry which i considered to be unique and intricate, namly Addiction. I mean how can a Girl fighting those king size body features be loving Sugar this much? It was surely because of...

ADDICTION
[b]It always begins with an initial curiosity
That curiosity; a licence to a lot of awakening.
That feeling likened to the quest of a toddler
Ordinarily, just a desire
A flint of a desire
To know.
To explore.
To unwind.
But truely never to sink in deep
Or be stuck.
For No, that is never the real reason behind it,
Behind addiction.
That backbiting Leech
With which one is caged
And most usually never easily untangled.
You want to know how it works in Love?
I'll be damned if i didnt say.
They meet. Just a very regular meeting.
And when they do,
There's this initial curiosity.
Mind you, its always mostly never about the desire
Just curiosity.
A flint of curiosity.
To know
To explore
To unwind
Into this new personality; the new presence,
This being.
And so, there begins a constant contact
Which is never meant for concern
Only, just regular check ups and meet ups and hook ups.
All mostly never, no never with an intentions.
But then these are but bewild, self acclaimed thoughts.
Which only disappoints
When one realises
That life without the other being
The once not-so-into-you affair
Has indeed drenched into an unending relay of affection
And all its accompanying emotions.
And then, one is stuck wondering
Of how it all began.
But for God's sake i say
It was all a process to addiction.
Addiction to a lover.

You want to know how it works in drugs?
I'll most def tell.
On the instance
One is always so disgusted
Even at just the smell of it.
Until when a friend
Who feels damn good from it
Leaves you in a magnanimous discombobulation,
Then that desire
A flint of a desire,
To know
To explore
To unwind
With this new highness
That wonderful Utopia
Of which you had once and almost earnestly never wanted to explore.
But now there, caught, entwined in the wholeness of the web
Is what you become.
Already very so sober and yet still wondering
How it all began.
Well, its a cliche now, but indeed,
For God's sake its all part of the process to addiction.
That bad bad addiction.

And time shall pass me by
If i tell long and gory stories
Of addiction
Yes, addiction to wine and to women and to money and to food and to recklessness and to sex and to greed
Of which there is so much entanglement
And yet not so much a way of detachment.
I fear addiction.
And i fear addiction.[/b] POEM 11. 04/01/2017

Meanwhile looking back, this was such a long poem. Lord have mercy.

sleeknick:

Out! Out!! Out u winch!!!

When will this thingy enter page three Ah!

Switup:
Out! Out!! Out u winch!!!

So staying back at home found you an addiction?

Entangled in love with him.....hummm

There is no crime in love just take a step after the other

Don't rush or blindfolded ....

Cheers

Adesina12:
So staying back at home found you an addiction?

Entangled in love with him.....hummm

There is no crime in love just take a step after the other

Don't rush or blindfolded ....

Cheers

hahaaha. Funny how u tryna put the words in my mouth. Am random thinker so i may and maynot have fallen in love at the time. Lol

Buh thanx in excess for reading that piece.

sleeknick:

i said out! Out!! Out u daredevil!!!

Switup:
i said out! Out!! Out u daredevil!!!

Na cry dey hungry u so

sleeknick:

Na cry dey hungry u so

i give up.

nice

iceprince3143:
nice

another new reader . Thanx.



More updates due when this gets to page three. Pls come and comment your reserves

Switup:
I looked at what i had just written. In one word, flabbergasted. Yours Truely was flabbergasted. I had just written that poetry without thinking twice nor pondering over the words. They just flowed like the words were dancing in the air. Amen church.

So early next morning, thanks to my King Soft Office editing, i forwarded a copy of this work to LovePoet, putting him under oath to tell me exactly what he thought of it. As much as i was shocked, he was amazed. He sure did ask 'who did this?' and when i told him i did, he shower me with praises that left me bedazzled.

Somehow, LovePoet did convince me that this was the best i had done in awhile(in other words, i should get angry often. Laughing out loud).

By now, i was certain of one thing namely i could write again, flawlessly atleast, without the regular hitch and ditch i often faced. This was truely an improvement and at this point, i realised i would never want to go back to d void that i had stuck myself in. It was such a Long emptiness. From the days when that Lady Mrs Graduate had been with my first story to the period when i was almost close to publishing my Yimga story, to my university days, ranging about a total of five years or so, i had loomed in such undermining state of being. And so, at d present, the thought of this new feeling made be determined to stay a writter even if the rest of my works were to end up like my first story or like its Yimga counterpart which at present is still in black and whilte and kept in my shelf like an archeological collection, i was ever ready to do the 'writing thingy'.

To accompany this determination, i thought of making an oath, something like a binding commitment that would keep me bonded with my new writing escapade yet a vow that would not be too far fetched, ridiculous or outrageous. While in thought, i got into writing again

So many a time,
I had sworn to quit
Those times soared in mind
Because i felt i would not get it.
And though i buried it in the depth
Haunted i was till i had sworn
That this time, in life or in death
I promise to go on
And write with indepth
Till i have won


10th October, i knew what my wow would be about. I was determined to write exactly 23 poetries and attach the date of writing of each piece. Now the reason for the twenty three poems would be a poem for a year, for all the years i have lived on earth. This oat wasnt outrageous although in my minds eyes it seem humongous because i did not even have a hand full of poem at that time and i was not a poetry person. The prose was me but not withstanding, the oath was an oath.

Furthermore, to add to that vow, i was determined to let my work reach a wider audience. Right from my early days whatever i wrote was seen only by my mom and maybe two or three other persons. This time around, to the extent i would, i want someone, anyone beyond the circle of my famiky to see my work. I needed to be critised, to be applauded and disdained. I needed the public eye.

And so i thought. I thought about how to publicize these poetries, i thought about how best to get this done, i thought about when and how to begin, i thought of ways to do this. Indeed during this period, i did alot of thinking.

I also wondered too. I wondered which social network would be best to achieve my goal. I wondered how i would succeed without a PC. I wondered if indeed anyone would want to read a boring charade of poetry. I wondered also about the many things i wondered about amd why i wondered about them.

In all these, i did not let random thoughts pass me by. These random thoughts most feuled my innards that i got writting again and this time, for the first time, the poem had a topic and a date and was numbered 7.(if you check back, i have written six poems already)

Broken Bones(7)
Bones are strong
Bones are for support
Bones do the work the whole body dares do.
Bones maketh a man.
But when the bones
Building a man
Ware and tear,
From affliction and confusion
What can you say maketh a man then?

Bones are strong
Bones are for support
Bones do the work the whole body dares do.
But when a friend closer than a brother
And loving as a sister
Breaks down in fighting
Illnesses sinister and harmful,
What can you say maketh life worth living then?

Bones are strong
Bones are for support
Bones do the work the whole body dares do.
But what is a bone
When it lacks nutrients?
No love just bumps
And prolonged loneliness
With fustration and delusion,
What can you say maketh a person not loved?

In every pain and gain then, i only hope that these bones of ours do not foil.{10:10:16}

And eleven days later, after an argument with an Atheist who wanted to prove a fact that neither the Bible nor God were relevant to life, i did this
Poem8
God made man
God made glory
And God made love
Then God made trouble
No! For God never made trouble
But trouble became man's
When God made rule.
For man dreaded rule
And ate the said fruit.
For which burden travailed against man.
Then God saw the trouble
That it had made man wobble.
For this trouble along with its pride
Brings Man's dreaded sorrow
Pain, more pain and death.
Thus, God made a good book
Just right to guide man
As any good dad would so do
To get his son back.
Now the good book God made
Was to make man manly
And to guide him to a sister called future.
But what does man do with God's good book?
For many its stored underneath a shelf
For others, it is archaic
And still for many others it is no good book.
You though, what do you think?
After God made man and God made glory and God made love,
Would not this God know and thus show
That even in Man's double trouble
He is God? And thus save Man from Man's woes? {22:1016}

wow! ... the diary is getting interesting