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Web Market / Re: We Need Writers For Our Blog by Ibrahimclouds: 8:41pm On Sep 07, 2018 |
Hello. I have just read through your project description and will like to join your group of writers on the tech niche. Contact me via: igbolahan14@gmail.com or igbolaham14@yahoo.com or 07031934709 |
Poems For Review / Re: Giant, Oh Giant! by Ibrahimclouds: 8:21pm On Mar 10, 2018 |
Nice one. keep writing. |
Poems For Review / Oh Kiss- And Oh Heaven by Ibrahimclouds: 7:02am On Jan 17, 2018 |
{To the certified indigenes of love; I set my pen o'er your hearts for only in a garden of love can this writ survive for ever and ever amen} In the history of locking of lips stepping o'er that of Romeo and julie I and beloved had one better still. In the absence of light and darkness barren of day and night unknown to silence and noise, we- without we I without I , and she without she in the blindness of life and death where there was no where nor somewhere where none could witness it even her nor me- above the time of romantic etiquettes not even can it be penned as an event remember- not known by a soul, Lips fused together words printed with ink of saliva on papers of lips and tongues mailed down the oesophagus into the box of the heart of the soul, we were there, where we were not- lost in a heaven of love with souls meeting at the junction of lips we where gone... far and beyond- so it can't be written to be made history A kiss beyond any other kiss. You are reading You are lost ask me to explain but I will not I leave you to your madness. ©®Ibrahim Clouds(SWC). 1 Like |
Poems For Review / To Every Writer And Speaker by Ibrahimclouds: 6:33am On Jan 17, 2018 |
Writers - the owner of every bleeding pen why does your pen not bleed the blood of our dead fathers? why do you save the souls of the white men whose bodies are white but their hearts black... ah- they who called our fathers monkies who rode on our fathers like donkies I have gone to the slavery museum the pictures of our fathers on the wall those pictures are crying and lamenting I could hear the crying of our fathers I saw the fall of valiant men I felt the fears and troubles borne by the old women I perceived through the picture- the horrible smell of corpses the moon there was crying the sun there was assimilating the "concobilities" of those white devils- oh writers- so why? why do you now make your pen sing sing the name of those white men those whose "stick of nose" are like the ribs of palmfronts they dress like onions in their black suits "many many" "as in as in"; thus they speak their "concobilities of language", Oh writers- why do you dig in their land with your pen? digging for their histories writing them with the ink of our fathers made from their water and their blood... is it for fame or for what- for I know our land is the home of histories histories more than the stars beautiful than a cloudless sky rich in emotion rich in wisdom... why do we write for heraclitus? plato, shakespear and poe? why have you forgotten the history of Oduduwa? why have you erased the ink of Onakakanfo? the great war of Ojukwu the great beauty of the Egba people. And as for the speakers- I eulogize you for your follies "concobilities this, concobilities that" you are proud of your shamelessness you twist your tongues to mock your ancestors whose bodies are buried in the ground but their souls in me. I leave you to continue swimming in your endless ocean of rubbish you are good bastards of good fathers, you children of "the dog that chases after the fox" ©®Ibrahim Clouds(SWC). 1 Like |
Poems For Review / Re: Slay Queen by Ibrahimclouds: 6:13am On Jan 17, 2018 |
SLAY QUEENS Damsels are the dews that fall from the dreamy eyes of the morning they are garlanded with the hairs falling from the head of the sun rising, As I sit where the first hair of the sun fell the frogs asked; who is a slay queen is? She is the daughter of the dog that chases after the fox the stick of her nose like the ribs of palmfront she is a yam with dark skin she peel herself without a knife to reveal her inner layer of shamelessness, her breasts are always on display her buttocks of hell bulge their eyes from within the short prison of skirts all over her- you see rings as for her food- the favourite is weed she is the woman of every sticks she is the killer of the destiny of every heart of promiscuity evil is her morning regret is the moon of her night with stars of many drop of tears. |
Poems For Review / Re: I Want To Belong by Ibrahimclouds: 10:01pm On Jan 13, 2018 |
HEY QUADRI Come here with me- with a debt of body- just our souls oozed out like smokes Let me take you on a journey. We are walking past the lake of smokes- wherefrom the heads of maidens sprout to reveal their tender skin as fresh as the petal of the glory of babardous see- their pointed nose- perceive the rays of their soul-searching eyes- let your soul not walk over the redness of their lips. this is not where we are going- do not tarry but hurry along with me. We are here at the gate of damsels with turgid and firm breasts not sagging but firm and hands-calling, they have waist- the home of two moons... ignore! follow me, or I will leave you behind. we are now at the gate- bit I warn thee, once in there is no returning you can return to the damsels- to fill your heart to the brim with lust of the skin- where you can drink the gin of love and of lust deeply. or you can go back to the lake of smokes- where women are precious like gold- but aplenty- all for you Quadri. make your decision before I open for you this gate- the gate that leads to the heaven of poets- where once in there is no going back. 1 Like |
Poems For Review / Re: 105 Days Later by Ibrahimclouds: 8:26pm On Jan 13, 2018 |
Yeah you are right when the spinning of the earth is not a dance but of drunkiness of gin of pollution of devastation. Tiz this troubled nation that feed her food to the termites even when she starves, her horn- the rulers they hit her- dig deeply into her flesh of peace to create a well of troubles. Tiz this nation running around like a mad dog flling- breaking- shattering into pieces-. Tiz this nation hunger loom over our belly fill it with a pasta of worms we design a smile of pretence from a fabric of stupidity and hypocracy. Tiz this nation where nothing matters except the queitness gaggled in the mouth with follies wailing rises- like a troubled wave of the sea. I will be still- I won't act that is why WE ARE DYING. 1 Like |
Poems For Review / Re: Her Breath-a Poem By Korede Isaac by Ibrahimclouds: 10:26pm On Jan 12, 2018 |
Oh Korede- you are blessed to enjoy everyday of your life. Blessings sent. 1 Like |
Poems For Review / Re: Her Breath-a Poem By Korede Isaac by Ibrahimclouds: 5:59pm On Jan 12, 2018 |
Korede, such a nice day, I wish to know what how the poem continued in the dream land. perharps, this way; Your soul left your body claded with the beauty of the night before-, you walked o'er the- miles of pebbles o'er which a violet sun throw her strands of light but your body snoor to the night. o'er those glittering pebbles- with a poverty of troubles in a pair of heavenly made shoes you walk past the gate of the maidens- you saw them- with eyes undescribeable by the brain- but not by the heart, their queen beckon to you to sit on the throne of her late king- Korede-- lands and farms rich in gold and sapphaire, blue oceans that run like a bald dancing snake, but you ignored all that- you left women! Korede great women! undescribeable- You walk towards another gate- you saw poets- you saw heaven- tiz here! your soul-searching eyes adore you swirld into the pool of e-motion- you love it here- under the blood of the moon- where crickets are poets too- you sit under the feet of the tree of poems- one of the ripe poems fell on your head- which is the head of a poet- you eat- oh palatable poem- your soul is filled with emotions your spirit is there in the heaven of poets- But the alarm by your bed will drag your soul out of the pillow or from your bed in the heart of tomorrow. but before then- enjoy- enjoy in the heaven of poets. ©®Ibrahim Clouds(SWC). 1 Like |
Poems For Review / Re: The Cursed -a Poem By Korede Isaac by Ibrahimclouds: 5:38pm On Jan 12, 2018 |
You can reach me on facebook @ Ibrahim Clouds. my profile picture is that of a young architect drawing on a table. |
Poems For Review / Re: The Cursed -a Poem By Korede Isaac by Ibrahimclouds: 12:10am On Jan 12, 2018 |
[center][center]Korede such awful days. When peace hides itself within the heart of our ancestors, whose bodies are yummies in the unsatiable belly of the ground. I look up, to receive the smokes falling from the mouth of the troubled sun which covers itself nowadays with dirty rags of bleeding clouds. where art thou oh peace? I ask, staring at my dead shadow which is breathing its last breath of the day under the sun. where art thou oh orderliness? I kneel my heart to reach a firm ground an unreacheable ground, but just lonliness is what I can feel through the air as I reach for an ungraspeable ground. my heart is falling- just the way the whole earth is dropping, dropping out of truth into lies from peace to trouble frome love to hatred from life to death from good to bad; still falling- but when it meet the ground of destruction- tell me- won't it crash? like grandmother's dead calabash?[center][/center] . oh heaven's hand save us from our own hands, and restore into us the souls of the good men an women. 1 Like |
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