@ sisikill

hey, thanks
well, i did a track once, it was my first try in diversifying from my poetry.
to know if i could sing. but its not working
late nights, i cant help listening to that track i came up with
bells just wont ring
i have been confused so much that i dont know what to do, i kinda went into article writing, my latest
a four paged exposure called GRADUATE DILEMMA.
locked up in my pile, knowing it would never be published

lately, av got more distracted that i wrote a new peom stating that i do not know if poetry is a player
am i being played like the poem i wrote 'ABOUT A PLAYER OR PLAYERS'
in this case poetry is making me fall in love and a still falling to the extent that it feels like my life is sold out to it
only to leave me broken, dashing my hopes. i just dont want to be a fool

i am confused, i have always been

@ saintsam, thanks all the same.

I guess i have been fooling myself all along
thinking i knew how to write
maybe poetry or free lance writing aint my thingy
just too bad

well, i really think you should finish it up
id like to read more about faces
cos i guess i see a lot each day

By the third line, i was already captivated
there was i thinking the journey would not end
but too bad, short and some what in complete

Each having two eyes, a mouth and a nose for respiration
Two ears, a neck and skin that glistens with perspiration
I'm constantly intrigued by this masterpiece of creation
No one is like the other,
even if they tell you, you're the carbon copy of your father or mother
Even identical twins don't look like each other
Even siasme are so different that they wish they wearnt joined together

Uniqueness, beautiful faces, oh my goodness
The artist - Our lord God your Highness
Beautiful is his craft, as each face shines with marvelous brightness

about the lips, tempting the are giving desperation
am soaked sweating drips, nothing as similar to perfection
such cheeks, that even the devil freaks ,

well, i need a bit of help shey
actually no time, no time at all. got to roll

Holla

Life aint what you think it is
For each man speaks by what he hears or see with his iris
You think life is bitter
Life is bitter, to another man it is sweeter
But life is bitter, unspeakably bitter as men wither

Life aint what you think it is
And am not trying to say words to make you sink
Merry we are as we party and drink
But one way or the other, for every drink there is life to make us stink

Life aint what you think it is
Your soul is managing what you are given - which is your body
Like a car, would you drive without knowing where to go already
So purpose is what makes life steady

Life aint what you think it is
You think you are more sorrowful and you've cried
But for the mistakes we have made in life, at our end we would see it
Wish we could rewind time and never ever died

Life aint what you think it is
Even if you are lazy
Breathing is free but aint easy
Effort and effort, life decrees till we tired and hazy

Life aint what you think it is
You would realise this as you one day meet your owner
Ashes to ashes, from death all men are runners
We all eventually get the baton
On getting the baton - then drops dead all your body atoms

Life aint what you think it is
Man gets it wrong by seeking comfort first
Its our mission on earth first, so hold your desires and let it thirst

Life aint what you think it is
In different men are various thoughts of evil
Its true - do watch and pray

Life aint what you think it is
We live with different curses and woes
Only the church and not life is meant for dancing shoes
Know that you stand among foes

Life aint what you think it is
Am about to end this
So seek Christ because on us he is soft
Better he is than our night rests pillow
Also know that the worst debit is to owe
Be on guard, let your eyes look all round like the owl
Especially - on earth do guard you soul
For its an eternal wish of hells ghouls

Peace

men, while scratching my head
i really dont understand the poetry license thingy

well, thats so harsh of you
how could u say that to me, words just flow and thats why it is long
well i dont know where the meat tastes sour to you for coming at me like that, well i guess you are just one critic
and its not that i do not have short poems too

i dont know sha, its how you feel anyway, i understand

Life starts with a hustle
Like Ayo’s struggle for his breathe
That is how it starts
Or lest he’d go beneath the earth by death
So to breathe, he was smart
Now he and death are wide apart
So he grows
To face the hustle of tomorrow
To find his life’s place
So as to catch comforts accelerated pace
In other not to be a disgrace
But here is Dayo’s row
Needing to hustle for money to end his sorrow
For to get money, struggle is his brace
And he gave it embrace
But Fayo was young and free
Hustling like the buzzing flight of a bee
Because from poverties torment – he wants to flee
“Torments of poverty” - which can turn permanent
But for Thomas
The first step to be a monument is being on the streets
He says – “you can only be on the streets to steady your feet”
While Shina takes on high and low class women
Who pay to get this good performer’s semen?
He keeps sucking on their teats
He can’t stop – for the money is quick and sweet
Also James was a young man in another city
His hustle seems all wrong
For that – it’s such a pity
Because robbery was his song
Defiant he was, yet mean and strong
I guess he’d keep robbing to infinity
So i say – there are different hustle to which everyone belongs
Peter was on that which was called crime
There is a lot – but car stealing brought him to his prime
But I leave you to wonder if he eventually became supreme
For Jude was another during James time
Defrauding was his theme
Do you think it’s the right way – if he did get money rolling?
While David survived by his business sling
Making and waving money like a king
But allow me fly you with my wing
To a hustle with a different swing
It’s Solomon – the slave blinded with a degree
His eyes almost in tears whenever his Boss makes a decree
All I can say
Is truly and truthful that he was never free
Because he slaves with his school degree to pay his fee
Let’s pray for him that he becomes independent


Can I forget Paul – who does the hustle of a dent?
Only to wash the windows of passing cars – does he find himself to represent
Whenever I drove by 9th street he was always present
But do you think he is better than Jide – doing the hustle of a beggar
Alms can only be given to him by his feeders
But my reader
Check Lawrence the juggernaut sender
He becomes this by going abroad
He’d still travel if getting to overseas is only by road
But our Nigeria’s prince charming has been shrunk to a toad
by his endless unrealistic fantasy to get foreign currencies in loads
His suit and tie here can only offer in overseas – menial jobs
Let’s give him slight sobs
There is a runner up if his hustle doesn’t pay off
It’s Niran – who swallow stuffs
I don’t know- but I heard you say it’s called cloud dust or cocaine
If he succeeds – he moves to the rich line
To eat and drink best of wines
But if he fails – he becomes a swine
He ends up in prison
His same family to accept him if he had succeeded calls him a rejected son
Why – because his failure is the reason
After 50yrs – he comes out of jail an ex-con
But that of Titus was that of claiming to be holy
An in-genuine pastor calling Jesus his one and only
He finds people to fool by preach
He looks and smiles at offerings coming to his reach
As he fakery teaches
He sucks the poor out like leeches
But there is this grand hustle not my doing
Writing my poems and also rapping without booing’s
It’s the genuine hustle by a talent
Only if it is given no relent
Flowing easy for I am truly God sent
By this hustle which is truly descent
But I conclude by saying that truly in everywhere
And surely absolutely is there nowhere
That there isn’t a form of hustle
Whether good or bad – it ceases when you can no longer feel your torso
It ends at death
When by request for eternity – we become banished from the earth

well thats not a bad attempt in poetry
am impressed

the thing is that i wonder where the poets are on naira land
I mean there gotta be something we could do about our works

i dont know if we could have a live forum or something

Anyway, are you going to write more, while we both share some lovely expression thatw e both have written

Holla

the concept is that a player is glorified in his own eyes
but the end of it is that, he is diggin his own grave
even if he escapes on earth, what about heaven
Its actually for players who have stopped playing and those who are still in it
its like choice

i hope we could build a bridge and share our poems on a page
its your call
originality and concept, thanks

i know we both have a lot to offer
looking forward to a reply

well its cool to understand that the subject matter is about love
the first atchy verse

My smile, he calls it his only sunrise,
Never will it set, in his eyes.

says something like he would get the beautiful things that come with the love, like your smile
At the same time you talk about what interests you like his touch, memories and words

this is where the peom gets one thinking
what is the end result - are you going to look for such love ?

Curny i say, not easy to dissect but leaves one to ponder,
yeah, id want it longer. maybe because i write lenghty limericks, peoms ,

The first line was catchy, will he never see your smile which he calls the sunrise !!!
i like this, this poem is curny
its like eating dessert that i never want to end
Short it is anyway !!!
Teasing, Bravo

Would you like to check mine and have a comment
I wrote About a player or players

Let me know what you think

i wasnt even thinking that women where herds
was just trying to relate to you how numerous they were !!!

women aint cattle or sheeps, very true
thanks for given me a clue

id need more critics to review that part, but how do you see the poem !!
Thanks anyway

It all started with me saying ‘I like you’ – true, I did
Then when did this turn to love – false, I didn’t
She said these words, and how would life had been if I didn’t say it – so I said it indeed

Now check my deeds
Am filthy all over
For different ladies, I am thirsty – it’s now or never

The truth is that I came to her innocent
I said ‘I like you’, the truth
But for the words ‘I love you’ – No, I’d be nocent

‘I love you’, if said from a woman – is sweet and clever
To trap I – Myself, the trap
To me she straps
But to my belt strap – hung a lot of women
Then she joined – people for me, wont you clap

She says she sensed the omen
That she would lose me and find another man

Good for her, she knew all along
That she knew all along, sober is no longer my song
Happy me, player keep on playing strong

Now here are the days of Karma
I didn’t care – I was addicted to women, even those I called Ma

So I came to my senses
It’s been 4 weeks of saying those three words that got things intense
Tired was I talking of love
‘I love you’ – I would say this in a minute
While I cheat in the next second
Tell me – why won’t this love thing get me tense?

I love you – she complains that I am not saying it
Love – I do not convey it
Yet, she still loves me, and it’s weird
It means Kudus to me the player nerd
A genius in women – so much I own in herds

Will all these said make me look wicked?
Yes, the ladies would call me a dick head
True – I am a dick head, and down below is a small head

At the beginning, I wasn’t crooked
I said I only liked her and it cooked
Now she sees me as a succulent meal that she couldn’t like but love

There goes the vocal at the other end of the phone
Janji, I love you
Silly me saying ‘I love you too’
Just that, turned out to be the right woo

Now tell me, what I would have said

Saying ‘I don’t love you’, would make the girl sad
‘I don’t love’ would make every Nigerian Fella, or Fela curse and call me a bastard
The players in the game would call me a retard
A retard even if I claim that from the game, I am retired
Even some ladies would ask, does this guy ever go hard?
While some agree that telling her the truth of not loving she, is playing the right card
Some would disagree, saying that life is ‘FAD’
Bleep and Discard


But why didn’t I listen to God
If I told the truth that I didn’t care, then he would not spoil me but spare the rod
And I would make him glad

The funny thing is what is about being a PLAYER

Players keep playing
Ladies would keep hating
Aids would keep hunting
You keep thinking that condom is the thing
Evil keeps singing
Rapture keeps hanging


Peace

Prior
To the feeling of being inferior
Some may smell so good with "Christian Dior"
But they lack a strong interior

Against interacting is a sword
Held to their throat if they dialogue a word

They conclude that making friends isn’t necessary
But the way they cry inside is extra ordinary

Some would always make friendship tarry
Looking for friends to carry
And adding more friends to their diary

But for some
The habit of making friends is yet to come

They find it hard to express
And this leaves them in depress
For they wish they had friends in excess

I ask
Why can’t they voice out?
So that they could sprout
And appreciate what friendship is all about

This writing is their call out
Giving them the right route

That to make friends is simple
Example
Break your inner shackle
As you move with your ankle
Say "hello" and cause a sparkle

But if they return a frown
Never loose your crown
Don’t let reject make you drown
But remember
That there is someone in the next town
Even downtown
That needs you, for they are down

So interact and don’t feel inferior
For a little confidence
Would prove to others, your essence
And in the end, magnify your presence
Hence
Live and extrovert
Draw people close like an advert
So that your presence creates a concert

So don’t let your friend counts go inert
But be a friendship expert

well thats what they all say
just keep em and one day you gon use em
well, i believe these poems are to be shown out to the world, and not to be kept
for poetry is to touch lives and even save em
what do you think
so i guess i am raising a revolution about showing poetry to the world so who is with me !!!

Here is one, its about abortion


She was young indeed
With many men pestering like weeds
She was truly fine
Sparkling to be precise
With her ova filled with fertile seeds
Making her hormones call for men in disguise
To her the first says “would you be mine”
I would provide all you need,
Need it be your feeds?
Another said “lady do choose me and be wise”
For I am filled with good deeds
And not filthy like a swine
But then came another
Saying “id love no other”
Only if you let me be your children’s father
So look no farther
But farther she looked
And she saw her perfect wooer saying – I am not crooked
So let me be your precious anther
Love me – the black as a panther
For I am true not to leave you stigma
Do let me unfold you – my enigma
So that other men would be burnt with rays stronger than gamma
Then only you become my children’s mama
Then id stick with you till you become a grandma

He left her sure
She was as clean as a performed manicure
Not knowing that he would leave her to stink like manure
Manure – only to speed up germination
germination of what now grows in her belly
For her virginity gave into temptation
leading to pregnancy at an age so early
Her child develops
With her tummy as its nutritious envelope
Yet its about to be torn and pierced
A process the medically sound call abortion
Now the child cries to the lord
While the lord full of pity says to the baby – endure
Endure – this evil of the sword
That would drain your amniotic fluid
For as she thinks of how men has made her stink
God already knows her plan
So as he gives the baby he forms comfort
He curses her womb
For a womb for a growing life has turned its tomb

Abortion is why this poetry came to this occasion
On this very august session
I have joined fleets of feet
Coming to this Sheratons function

To make poetry brings awareness
Bringing a junction that would end abortion
For these words are the concoctions
That we must take like a portion
Then far away our thoughts shall go
And as I drop words like a cargo
Id create no farrago
But would convince that abortion is what we must forgo
As you stow in this flow
Realize that it is about Africa practicing abortion
While other nations are practicing adoption
Pregnancy should leave a woman no option
For babies are spirits to be born
Then why do we cause their scorn
In Africa, I pray that God intercedes
So that babies birth – we don’t recede
For they are our accede
Abortion leaves babies to be castaways
Blinding us to see that they are our generational pathways
So really – abortion is a sacrilege
That we must kill with our moral sledge
For I give this act no pledge
From humanity give abortion a wedge
For even its thoughts drives me to the edge
Because it leaves our lives in bondage
We kill – and heaven turns our phage
For they see the babies rage.

This writing is a living sage
And to understand it – let no man claim dotage
To its call to end abortion by sabotage
For if sex is our immoral fancy
Its consequence is said to be unwanted pregnancy
but if we love sex then why not love the result of infancy
Why don’t we think of the baby’s pain?
Even our marital stain
Because the baby is alive – yet we kill like Cain
this makes me disdain abortion to be slain
This act turns the generation insane
Leaving me to ask – why we can’t be sane
To know that the babies death isn’t sweet sugarcane
What happened to pity in our beloved city?
Fetus killing should be a renowned scarcity
So let’s try sanity
Start by attacking sexual immorality
Which leads us to give an unwanted baby its undeserved mortality?
But why does the woman forget her baby’s ability
while she lets abortion kill its future capability
Even God weeps
As abortions horror sweeps
His heart aches deep
Because abortion has taken over the hearts of his sheep’s
He cares about the fly
Tell me how much more – the baby’s cry
This act has to go dry
The evil of abortion has to fry
Let sexual acts of reproduction be guided by marriage
Then, there would be no baby miscarriage
So from my stage
I do see a new age
Were we wont dump babies like they are wastage
So let every one keep these page
Till the horrors of abortion is in its cage

I ask and keep asking myself this question all over and over again
what do i do with my poems
i keep writing that i think there aint no blank page to fill anymore
the question now is that what do i do with 'em

or may i ask you
what do you do with yours !!!

My review is that this peom relates to someone or people who think they aint beautiful
come to think of it, beauty is in diverese ways
i think the peom is nice because it got me thinking about what we sometime have that we think is not good enough
we cant be too sure anyway
these happens in everything we do, we are good at something and we think we aint
I will try to relate this poem beyond being beautiful
it can be seen in a variety of ways
it is also like putting on a cloth and you are told it is very beautiful, there goes your doubt, you put off the cloth and i say to myself
after being tired of assuring you, 'that cloth is fine and she/he doesnt know it, if that cloth is not beautiful then what is ?

Nice one

i seem to find myself looking for those who write poetry
i speak of any gender and age
but i will be restricting myself to those who stay nearby ikeja,maryland,ogba and berger for personal reasons, and easy meeting
think about this !!!
i want to know what the wworld is offering and show what am tendering !!!

Holla

very well, i have been pushed to write about my sunday
i thought i never will, but i just have to write about it someday
and sisikill had to make it thisday
now am about to break it down like thisday - the news paper
Curse me if i be the hater
hater of sundays - the best day of our God, our porter
About his day, i have become a reporter

the sunday wont seem to appear more drab, it starts by waking up with that boring dream
Not night mares to which i would scream
but trust me, its about waking up feeling so tired, weak and maybe more slim
its hard to have a bath, shower and cream
i drag my feets at every move, inability to flow fast like a stream

to iron, electricity is all gone
no NEPA, how about i press bythe heat of the sun
or a charcoal iron - charcoal as black as my soul

This are the activities in my room
How about i go check out, if i could still do morning chores with a broom
i forgot, i aint sweeping today, its a sunday
there i am finding excuses not to think about the church and being in the congregation

i made my way downstairs
to my brothers room, filthy, lord give me air
No lies, i think he needs care


only this time, my brother aint an slowpoke
thought of Christ never burst his bile
he had been dressed up all this while

mums service starts at seven
i only get to see her sundays when she is back at eleven
as for dad, i think we are pals
we dont both go to church afterall
i think about church we are even

but my brother begins to stall
'are you going to go to church at all'

angry he is at me,
little does he know that he is on his own, let him be hotter than the oven
I aint leaving my beds coven

In that house, its two against two
Me and Dad at home, My brother and mum in church.
but if i had gone to church, there would have been more girls to meet and woo



the truth is that sunday is a blessed day
in that church is our life's real sun, we cant do without Gods ray
in there, Church on sundays keeps every life in array
A home for those who have gone astray
astray to different temptation as sin in our life way
but what about the praise and worship
even if you dont want to clap or open your lip
doors in your heart are opened, and the spirit goes in deep
Sundays is the best day to live, see and keep
for better i keep living sundays than to RIP
I just joined nairaland, am blessed to write, i need reviews - so i hope y'all see this clip
its something short under 15 min of seeing sisikills strip
i think she is good, cos i did flip

anyways, sundays is what you should embrace
its a wonderful day of the lords grace
about sundays, id try not to keep a grudge in my face
so bye, and give me a buzz or a trace

ayoodukale2002@yahoo.com

very well, i have been pushed to write about my sunday
i thought i never will, but i just have to write about it someday
and sisikill had to make it thisday
now am about to break it down like thisday - the newspaper
Curse me if i be the hater
hater of sundays - the best day of our God, our porter
About his day, i have become a reporter

the sunday wont seem to appear more drab, it starts by waking up with that boring dream
Not nightmares to which i would scream
but trust me, its about waking up feeling so tired, weak and maybe more slim
its hard to have a bath, shower and cream
i drag my feets at every move, inability to flow fast like a stream

to iron, electricity is all gone
no NEPA, how about i press bythe heat of the sun
or a charcoal iron - charcoal as black as my soul

This are the activities in my room
How about i go check out, if i could still do morning chores with a broom
i forgot, i aint sweeping today, its a sunday
there i am finding excuses not to think about the church and being in the congregation

i made my way downstairs
to my brothers room, filthy, lord give me air
No lies, i think he needs care


only this time, my brother aint an slowpoke
thought of Christ never burst his bile
he had been dressed up all this while

mums service starts at seven
i only get to see her sundays when she is back at eleven
as for dad, i think we are pals
we dont both go to church afterall
i think about church we are even

but my brother begins to stall
'are you going to go to church at all'

angry he is at me,
little does he know that he is on his own, let him be hotter than the oven
I aint leaving my beds coven

In that house, its two against two
Me and Dad at home, My brother and mum in church.
but if i had gone to church, there would have been more girls to meet and woo



the truth is that sunday is a blessed day
in that church is our life's real sun, we cant do without Gods ray
in there, Church on sundays keeps every life in array
A home for those who have gone astray
astray to different temptation as sin in our life way
but what about the praise and worship
even if you dont want to clap or open your lip
doors in your heart are opened, and the spirit goes in deep
Sundays is the best day to live, see and keep
for better i keep living sundays than to RIP
I just joined nairaland, am blessed to write, i need reviews - so i hope y'all see this clip
its something short under 15 min of seeing sisikills strip
i think she is good, cos i did flip

anyways, sundays is what you should embrace
its a wonderful day of the lords grace
about sundays, id try not to keep a grudge in my face
so bye, and give me a buzz or a trace

ayoodukale2002@yahoo.com