₦airaland Forum

Milk become cereals
Pap become three square meals
From house food to bukka
So does soda become Vodka
Amusement park? That’s where we flex,
Then kisses turn into sex
Dads’ shoulders used to be Mount Everest
We had all shades of fun, we would never rest
Who liked siesta? Zero
Mum was my super hero
Race issues had to do with speed
Mr. Biggs was Heaven indeed
War was with wooden fake guns
Who knew puff puff weren’t buns?
Mum picked up the report card, dad paid the fees
Pain was when you skinned your knees
Good byes only meant until tomorrow
Before the sperm, tears, blood and sorrow
Growing up came all of a sudden
We all are weaved through this burden

Ogogoro no sweet pass champagne
But ogogoro dey high pass champagne
I’m in love with my bush girl
And I’m equally crazy for my Behind girl
Abeg, which one I go marry?

My Behind girl; her eyes grab me like fire
Her catwalk spins my heart like tire
My bush girl; natural like the Garden of Eden
And na she I go like to raise my children
But she is rough around the edges
An introvert, shy to scale the hedges
My Behind babe is made of capital letters
Loose cannon with no moral fetters

My bush chick knows that my heart and stomach are neighbors
Queen of dishes, giving me royal flavours
The Behind one is the queen of the runway
When it comes to kitchen matters, she’ll run away
But the bush girl gives me kitchen and bed satisfaction
She’s good in the sack and mouth action
While my Behind girl will always be like “let me be”
After a round… “Pontiff recite a poem for me”

My Behind girl is very Behind plus her impeccable grammar
My bush girl dey try sha, she was raised by her grandma
If na money and class, I know say she no reach
She’s all about Cartier watches, golden bracelet on the other hand
On the other hand, my bush boo rocks rubber band
I know say for public she go fall my hand
But in private, her hand dey clap like cherubim band

I’m just in love but can’t marry the two
At crossroad, I don’t know what to do
Should I marry the bubbling taste of my champagne?
And leave my ogogoro which has the iron stuff like plantain?
If I do so, will I be wise?
Or should I just do otherwise?
To Behind the bush and push the Behind?
I crave for peace and not war like President Bush.

Ogogoro no sweet pass champagne
But ogogoro dey high pass champagne
I’m in love with my bush girl
And I’m equally crazy for my Behind girl
Abeg, which one I go marry?

Chuky: (Just pours his Heineken into a glass cup) I miss the days of bachelorhood, I miss Heineken aka champions league, I also miss clubbing and stuff.
Francis: (Cuts in) you must be missing life you know… people say marriage is a prison
Chuky: Not really, I also miss you sense of sarcasm. You have been married for three years yet full of life.
Francis: Yes of course. I chose my path
Chuky: (Cuts in) I guess you don’t have my kind of wife; she’s one hell of a problem.
Francis: (Smiles) mine is ten times worse, I mean was ten times worse… but God wey give person big teeth go give am big lips to carry cover am. I tamed the tiger.
Chuky: (Chuckles) how can one tame a dragon?
Francis: You must be a fan of fables.
Chuky: Come to my house and see for yourself
Francis: You must have some super powers to have avoided being barbequed by her breath huh?
Chuky: (Gulps the whole drink in silence)
Chuky: (Breaks the silence) I don’t know where to place all the fuss about getting married and bullshit.
Francis: (Smiles) marriage is for adults and adults must be adults.
Chuky: Waiter, bring two more bottles of Heineken.
Francis: So how long have you missed your darling champions league… since your bachelor’s eve I guess?
(They both laugh out loud)
Chuky: Not really, I’ve got like a crate that stare me in my fridge but drinking at home is like making love with five condoms on. You know what I mean.
Francis: Yeah right, I know exactly what you mean. My wife once prepared goat meat pepper soup and bought some bottles of cold Heineken plus she changed the channel to super sports so that we can both eat and watch champions league at home instead me going to the pub. I plainly told her, you can buy the beer parlour and bring it home but you can’t buy beer parlour gist.
(They both laugh out loud)
Chuky: Like seriously, the information you get here Nigeria Info and wazobia FM can’t offer you not even Linda Ikeji blog.
Francis: that reminds me, you know Linda that your crush back in school…
Chuky: The one with the big waist?
Francis: Exactly… I done chop am
Chuky: (Looks left and right) you mean?
Francis: I check my emails there.
Chuky: (Laughs) Bad man, you must be very good in hacking usernames and password.
Francis: Anything for the love of skirts, you know…
Chuky: Skirts? How do you mean?
Francis: Don’t be naïve man! If the devil permits we will all be monks.
Chuky: Yes o, for the love of my wife’s skirt.
Francis: And some few extras too, you know skirts are so dear sometimes you wish you had them all.
Chuky: (Scratches his head) I once tried one or two extras but f%ck it, bullshit happened.
Francis: Yep, at times bullshit happens that’s why things that are dear are carried with care. You need the pokers manual too.
Chuky: (Chuckles) back in school, you were nicknamed Mr. Nogoodadvice
Francis: The only difference is that I now talk and do. Then I was just an adviser, I mean a special adviser on… whatever. I now practice what I preach.
Chuky: So what exactly do you preach?
Francis: I preach the good, the bad and the ugly.
(They both laugh out loud)
To be continued

The tears and blood of my wife still hangs on my sick soul. To her, love can go far. What happened that night remains a secret, our secret. Last August reminds me of a bad dream. I am yet to know the borderline between a spouse and a bachelor. Maybe we both don’t know what we are into yet.
It was eight days after our wedding and Angela called short our honeymoon, it’s understandable. We were on the next flight back to Lagos, trapped in an unfinished business. In my fraud of silence, I wished for amnesia for her and maybe for me too. I hate to remember my entrails for the past days. During our wedding I felt something died in her but after the ordeal (I can’t call it rape), it seemed I opened old wounds. She is still beautiful but I feel she just buried the immediate past in a shallow grave. We are tied to an oxymoron, we are married strangers. One will feel that we are both deaf and dumb until you see any of us on the phone. There is a deep well of malice in her heart, and to me marriage is a game of two forgivers but you need to see her face at the sound of the word “marriage”. I’ve lost the grip of the relationship, our marriage is like a child born and hooked to a respirator. Strangers we were before our wedding, stranger we still are at the dawn of our marriage.
Someone should have taught us the value of courtship before wedding. Someone should have told our parents that this patchwork won’t stand the test of time. Our parents hurriedly sealed this patchwork and propose the knot. I won’t blame myself or my wife, whatever our parents have put together let no man put asunder. They must be gods you know, and we are their dummies. They better know how to calm this storm lest pride will tear up the loincloth of our marriage. I wish home will tow us out of the ashen folds of malice. We shall find a new skin in hope and the chorus of dawn will move green leaves on trees.
We have created an illusion that all is well right from the airport. Still I ask myself, how far can we go with this? But how can I reason with a wife without ears? I am just stuck with the monologue, monologue of the deaf. Maybe peace hangs on the wall in the calendar, and time will tell but before that… we remain married strangers.

At dawn the next morning, I woke up with sober thoughts wrapped around hangover. Her eyes were a weeping sky, a noisy silence. Blood littered the bed. Words were killed by her sealed lips. I looked at the toilet mirror and I saw a heap of guilt. I leaned on the pillar of blames. I couldn’t read the spreadsheet of bitterness written on Angela’s face. In the mirror I saw a cross and I stood sturdy under the cross of marriage. I was under the burden of guilt; did my break point come so early? But the silence noise will not let me be and I will carry the cross on my shoulder. And nothing can come between me and my cross. I cannot deny that I broke into her innocence.
How will I tell god that my patience grew fungi on its tray? How does one scratch ones yaw of shame? Words fly away from me and I grope for rubbles of hope. Suddenly I find a ray of light in my darkness. The light hangs on a bottle. And I washed my mouth with my favorite Jack. I love Jack Daniel but I love my wife more. I was supine with shame for all the sins I count against myself. O! My wife strikes me even more. She looks at herself and exclaims “I never wanted this marriage; I married a rapist and a beast”. This isn’t sheer impudence but for her tears and blood staring back at me. All these while I never realized that I was naked. I feel Adams unclothedness, so quickly I dressed myself and met on the side of the bed. “We are who we are, humans and fatally flawed. I am who I am, sad and achingly wrong. I am very sorry for what I have done and I vow to make it up to you”. My whispers hit a wall of contempt. I continued in tears “if only I knew you were a virgin, how was I to know? To every wound there is a balm, for every sorrow there is a cheer. I want to be ale to your thirst”. Finally silence is broken from her lips. She shrugged her shoulders and says “so I am fated to bear this pain called marriage”. We argued back and forth but I was able to quench the combusting fire I put up. I wonder the inscription on the placard on her mind. I knew the love I had for her grew but I felt that she hated me more. One day her heart will find a healing balm; it will come maybe on the wings of words. And smiles, happiness and laughter will be minty in the wind.

bestestgirl:
Nah it wasn't necessary to get drunk and force her, he could have just slipped a double dose of viagra (or any other such stimulant) into her drink and then wait for it.....

Plsss tell me more...

bestestgirl:
hmmmmmm captivating no doubt,


but you are still a rapist


now, continue the story please

Hmmmm, to me he isn't a rapist o. He is called doctrine of necessity.

“Love is blindness, I don’t want to see
Your love has wrapped the night around me
Oh, my heart… love is blindness”. I whispered to her ear and she smiled. The kind of smile you see four or five times in a life time. But wait, it was a real smile. For the first time I have gotten a real smile from my fiancée. It shook the foundations of my soul as her lips beckoned for a kiss but I held myself back. That night we partied, Angela is a big masquerade so I set a big stage in my heart to contain her dance. Everybody was in high spirit and in the first week of August last year, I married her. We humbly walked on stilts to the alter of wedlock.
Our wedding was the hottest event in town. My dad made sure the “who is who” in the state attended. Angela’s dad outdid him and brought the entire country together. Our mothers made it so colorful, it looked like an inter house sport event. I sat with Angela looking quite bewildered. I saw this partial contact in her face, from her look one will think both of us were invited to watch other people. Perhaps her spirit and mind watched her body get married without being part of the entire process. I married her, done deal.
I had never been to the Mediterranean, so Ibiza was a perfect destination for a honeymoon. To impress my new wife, I could clutch the sun but she was like a stony drum if you know what I mean. Three day after our wedding, Angela kept every under lock and key. I met thighs of iron as resistance. The moon turned black and the stars were drowsy. The clouds formed a thick pool around my eyes. It was easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for me to know my wife. She won’t tell me why and he silence deroofed my world. I was in the winter of life with nothing to warm my days. I’m such a gentleman; you should give it up for me. I don’t force things, five days after my wedding; I am rolling stones from base to summit. I have become a coward in this endless mystery, I’ve braved my hard-on. People say “knife wey sharp no get handle and hand wey get handle no dey sharp”.
I sat at the bank of the river of matrimony. I never bargained for a bed strike. On the night of the sixth day after my wedding, I drank beyond my gauge. I was drunk and I stared at the man in the mirror and he told me that the lady on the bed is my business and I should handle my business. The wheels of wisdom seize their turnings as I once again knocked on the door of her emotions. But this time it was harder with fervor of a drunk. It was no more business as usual when she would bolt the door with a sigh and I will keep calm. How will a wife seal her aperture from her husband?
She shouts back at me, “you are crazy, stop this”. She cried for help. She must be such a fool to think my body is made up of firewood. Nothing could stop me as I clutched her pants down her thighs. She screamed and crawled but I took her hard until she became soft, tears dripped down as she cried silently. I tried to make it less violent as I broke in and out.

As at last year, I wasn’t ready to settle down. I was at the point of my life I could call “auto pilot”. I had it all yet wanted to reach greater heights all by myself especially after my dad gave me a head start. A wife will be a distraction, so I thought but let’s consider the girl in question. Angela isn’t an everyday naija babe, she no be Mr. Biggs chick. She has it all, beauty, brain, elegance, class, money… name it. It remains a man to be called her husband. To me being her king is quite an achievement. I knew she would also buy the idea (who wouldn’t want me all to herself) but my fear was that I wasn’t sure if she was doing it for her parents, the pressure (based on the fact that her younger sister is already engaged), or for the love of marriage. Should I also add “or for the love of me?”
Our planned wedding was like a wild fire and our parents fanned the fire. Before we knew what was happening, wild fires gobbled the forest to the extent that we had no hand in deciding the date for the wedding. They fixed a date in August to suit the availability of their friends and associates. On one of the days, I accompanied my parents to Angela’s house for a visit and I and Angela were excused and we sat down one on one for the first time in our adulthood. She was quite shy and uncomfortable but I wasn’t. We had both been briefed about our wedding by the planners so we chatting for familiarization purposes. From the look in her eyes and the way that she spoke, I knew that the entire wedding idea was her permissive will and not her perfect will.
Angela, the golden girl with an irresistible charm. With a well sculptured shape, immediately I got soaked in her aura. Sugar, spice and everything nice were all loaded in a single capsule called Angela. She looked so cool like the models in an Orange drug advert. She reminded me of what to see when I look for beautiful girls. My words sounded with strength. The hot claws of her eyes raked the womb of my mind. O! How I loved that night I saw her in a black gown. O! How I loved her. I was paralyzed with happiness that I had found my wife. After that day, we met frequently for reasons bordering on our wedding. We had already sent out invitation cards, ashoebi etc. I made a few investigations about her but couldn’t find something substantial. In fact had made up my mind to marry beautiful fiancée and I loved her but couldn’t tell if she loved me. She was a bit weird and was too reserved. She had never called or text me, I did it all based on my mother’s advice. “My son, a woman’s heart is a loamy soil, just bury your seed of love, water it, weed it regularly then her love will grow”. I listen to my parents all the time and I knew that her love wasn’t automatic; therefore I placed marriage before love. So if you ask me WHY KNOT? I will reply WHY NOT?

I woke up this morning tethered to a severe hangover. I couldn’t count my fingers but I woke up on a big bed alone. The whereabouts of my wife is an entire different story. The clock says 10:30am and it smells like Sunday, of course it is. I yawn and stagger to the toilet sink as I wash my face and face the man hiding in the mirror.
Things were not always like this, before the last August I was a handsome bachelor with too much money to spend. I had two masters degree from foreign universities and I changed cars like I did to shoes. And my set of friends were like me so, the club knew us. I knew the secret of King Solomon and a woman’s heart hardly stands a handful of my honey coated words. Yet still I had a headful of ideas about the worlds’ ills with the solutions dead in my pocket. My dad didn’t want me to work under anybody so I launched a consultancy agency plus a record label with a couple of other businesses up my sleeves. During the second republic, my dad was a minister; he held various positions before and after then. He is also a close ally to Angela’s (my wife) dad. They both belong to the old money status and enjoy strong business ties.
My mum had jokingly told me some years back to put my eyes on one of either Angela or hers sisters, stating how both families would like to cementing the bond as in-laws. I haven’t seen Angela more than thrice since childhood but I knew that she was a beauty to behold and I also knew that we were age mates in fact she is my senior with few months. I knew that she was a southpaw and a kind of weird person considering the fact that she isn’t in any of the social networks. I only saw pictures of her on her sisters’ Facebook page. Angela did her first degree in the UK and her masters in France. She had some work experience before returning home to manage stuff for her dad. I had fears that a girl with such immense beauty will either be engaged or married by the time she will be done with her education. So I took my eyes to her younger sisters to be safe in a case where the issue of marriage should pop up.
Trouble started when Christy (Angela’s immediate younger sister) was engaged to a UK based interior designer. At that point her parents wanted Angela to wed before her sisters but Angela had no interest in men and therefore she wasn’t hitched. Unknown to us, Angela’s parents and my dad had been meeting severally at their hang outs conceiving the idea of a possible marriage between me and Angela in order to set precedence for that of Christy. Our parents have money, power and respect in the society but they don’t respect the emotions of their children who are adults. Our wedding was a match made in a parlour of clicking sounds of wine glasses and thick cigarette smoke.

westgermany:
Pls how do I comment....

You can comment on this thread of add me up on Facebook Chinweike David Okwu

This is just the intro

It’s August again, mtcheew. Bees of memories sting so hard. I have never been given to the wild imagination about myself falling for the proverbial trap called “one chance”. Not that I’m the most conscious of happenings around me. In fact I’d even prefer the road side one chance because my experience so far is far from it.
I mean August leaves a soured taste in my mouth and a weight on my chest. If you are looking for a Nostradamus who saw everyone else’s tomorrow and was blind to his. Here I am, I never saw it coming. And I shall drink more Boris Jelzin and hope it will help me muster the effrontery to explain my journey so far.
Sometime last August I tied the knot, not because of choice and not necessarily force but it came to pass because our both families felt that we are a good match. A year later I’m yet to see what is good about the match. Ever since I married my wife or what is that her name… yes Angela, I have been swimming in hot water. The damage has been done but the words from the priest haunt me. “Marriage is for better for worse; divorce is not permitted in the bible”. I’m in my late twenties and night has fallen within me already and I feel the emptiness in me. I miss the days when my life was on my palm. Until I hear a siren of hope, I will tell the man in the mirror the ugliness he has become and tell him to count the pieces of his broken heart and see what he has done.

Good morning dear friends and well-wishers, 30 days of poetry was great and it opened Pandora’s Box. To me Art especially Literature is a big deal and I’m playing my role in its promotion on the social media.
I wish to inform you about the maiden edition of AUGUST BREAK, the theme is “dairy of a married bachelor”. It will run every day in the month of August and the social media will be the platform upon which I will display my art form.
I am doing this first for the love of literature and also believe lovers and non-lovers will be entertained and educated. It will be a great honour to have you place your comments, observations, information etc.

Sincerely yours,
LYRICAL PONTIFF

I know my tables, I'm not a waiter
But I'm serving u love calculus
Until I go off the tangent
In this poetic geometry I won't move in circles
I know my area
U are a sugary 4 square, sweet 16
If I say u are average,I must be mean
Check the statistics,u r my prime factor
U can count on me like ur calculator
I'll take u up & be the denominator
I'm after u,not V like numeral five
I'm love drunk,I drink & derive (formulas)
If u are too(2) negative,of course that's a plus
Read the sine(sign) like trigonometry
Like tan45 degrees, I'm d 1 for U
B4 I met u,my heart waz a null set
Now my head dey swell,up is bigger
I'm just like an improper fraction
I see the future,u need (÷) the vision(division)
Our love has greater powers
Like exponential expressions
It will speak volumes like
Length * width * height
Not quadileteral but fly like a kite
High to infinity maybe heaven
Let's be 5 & 6 like 11
Until we pie like 22/7
D chord of our covenant isn't in an arc
Me & other girls aren't Even,always @ odds
If u catch me, pls use logs & surds
I'm not like other guys, u can dy/dx
Our love isn't an equation on square numbers
Itz so deep, u can't find the root
We can make a good binary relationship
Ur features r like a scalene triangle,no equal
U r too much like spherical excess
If we break up,I will still find X don't ask Y
U r my number 1 like roman numeral I
I swear, u are 2(too) up right like square
I'll put food on top of ur 4 figured table
Love is like maths text books
It comes with problems
If yours is too intense(2 in 10s) like 10210
I will solve u b4 I drop my pen...

He’s a weapon that fires lyrical projectiles
You can’t flaw (floor) like wall tiles
He is a diamond pearl, very hard to find
His words will seize the pages of your mind
Fingers of his words melt hearts softly
He is so fly, rhymes all lofty
His whimpering words will scatter your emotional bee hive
He moves the crowd like a Big Pun stage dive
Allow him dredge the sea in your thoughts
Like your cashew driver, he will drive you nuts
His lyrics walk on the asphalt of your brain
His punchlines echo under the rain
Girls often get drunken on the hardwine of his pieces
Metaphors and similes tear up your breastplate to pieces
His lines fall in pleasant places
Your heart hardly stands a mouthful of the lines he laces
Figures of speech will melt your heart of stone
He and poetry are like meat to a bone
He is on point like the tip of a dart
He will weave happiness through your heart
He is not your average poetic fella
Poetry is his heartbeat, without it his chest is accapella

Thank you for your views, reviews, support, likes and comments in these 30 days of poetry. I finally draw the curtain and watch the next space because there is more to come… gud night Bleep

Above the hills, you’ll see the red sun
Red radiance. Red run
In stampede like red Indians. Red alert
Foes want to tear the red apart
Bloodbath, behold a red stream
He’s awake, another red dream
In shower, reminiscing a red letter day
Red thoughts, praying for a better day
Dreams of rocking the red carpet
But he cannot, because he’s a red target
She’s unfortunate realizing red life is this strict
Poverty pushed her to the red light district
Red account, no red cent
Flaunting her body for the cash from the red gent
He’s on red bandana chilling in a red bar corner
Red wine, red bull on a red stool
Tension gets red hot,
Next we saw the red shot
The cops never catch the red handed
Yet they say they want the red branded
That dude in a red pool is a red rebel
Now I see the spirit like red label
We sleep with one eye like its red night
We have to stop them like the red traffic light
Red pocket filler, red tie
Red tape at work, everybody red eye
The anger paints a red face
The innocent waste like red mud
Yet we all breathe air and have red blood
The economy is poor like report cards with red ink
The red sink
Let’s bring out our red card
It’s red hard; let’s show the bull the red rag
Red revolution, so wave your red flag
United we stand not the red devils
Together let’s increase the red level
The system is wounded and I am the Red Cross
I am Moses, so watch the red cross the red sea
I am red, see
Red fire
Red blood
And this is a red poem

I know my tables, I'm not a waiter
But I'm serving u love calculus
Until I go off the tangent
In this poetic geometry I won't move in circles
I know my area
U are a sugary 4 square, sweet 16
If I say u are average,I must be mean
Check the statistics,u r my prime factor
U can count on me like ur calculator
I'll take u up & be the denominator
I'm after u,not V like numeral five
I'm love drunk,I drink & derive (formulas)
If u are too(2) negative,of course that's a plus
Read the sine(sign) like trigonometry
Like tan45 degrees, I'm d 1 for U
B4 I met u,my heart waz a null set
Now my head dey swell,up is bigger
I'm just like an improper fraction
I see the future,u need (÷) the vision(division)
Our love has greater powers
Like exponential expressions
It will speak volumes like
Length * width * height
Not quadileteral but fly like a kite
High to infinity maybe heaven
Let's be 5 & 6 like 11
Until we pie like 22/7
D chord of our covenant isn't in an arc
Me & other girls aren't Even,always @ odds
If u catch me, pls use logs & surds
I'm not like other guys, u can dy/dx
Our love isn't an equation on square numbers
Itz so deep, u can't find the root
We can make a good binary relationship
Ur features r like a scalene triangle,no equal
U r too much like spherical excess
If we break up,I will still find X don't ask Y
U r my number 1 like roman numeral I
I swear, u are 2(too) up right like square
I'll put food on top of ur 4 figured table
Love is like maths text books
It comes with problems
If yours is too intense(2 in 10s) like 10210
I will solve u b4 I drop my pen...

Above the hills, you’ll see the red sun
Red radiance. Red run
In stampede like red Indians. Red alert
Foes want to tear the red apart
Bloodbath, behold a red stream
He’s awake, another red dream
In shower, reminiscing a red letter day
Red thoughts, praying for a better day
Dreams of rocking the red carpet
But he cannot, because he’s a red target
She’s unfortunate realizing red life is this strict
Poverty pushed her to the red light district
Red account, no red cent
Flaunting her body for the cash from the red gent
He’s on red bandana chilling in a red bar corner
Red wine, red bull on a red stool
Tension gets red hot,
Next we saw the red shot
The cops never catch the red handed
Yet they say they want the red branded
That dude in a red pool is a red rebel
Now I see the spirit like red label
We sleep with one eye like its red night
We have to stop them like the red traffic light
Red pocket filler, red tie
Red tape at work, everybody red eye
The anger paints a red face
The innocent waste like red mud
Yet we all breathe air and have red blood
The economy is poor like report cards with red ink
The red sink
Let’s bring out our red card
It’s red hard; let’s show the bull the red rag
Red revolution, so wave your red flag
United we stand not the red devils
Together let’s increase the red level
The system is wounded and I am the Red Cross
I am Moses, so watch the red cross the red sea
I am red, see
Red fire
Red blood
And this is a red poem

FLOWER
He gave her a flower
Then plucked her flower
Both lounging on a love tower
Not “you” or “me” but “our”
Then came that very hour
Their love turned sour
Not by strength nor by power
Can stop the tear shower
Love can fade like a flower
Tears, blood and flower
It sprouts like a flower
Next blossoms like a flower
Then fades like a flower
Just like a flower

She tuned her conscience to a high frequency
Tall, handsome...with enough hard currency
I balanced through the tight rope with Tigers below
You wanted sleep, I brought matrass and pillow

I gave you sugar, I gave u glucose
Yet you are still looking for something sweet
I gave you fire, I gave you flame
And you are looking for heat
When people say women don't know
What they want,people think it's a myth

All my love entreaties went down the gutter
Impressing you was a basket full of water
Yet I'm a specimen of your requirements
But when I show up, you front
Women don't know what they want

Even if we make love in the river, under the rain
You will still want to be wet
If I give you brandy inside an elevator
You won't still be high

I will never rest
Until I sweep the Sahara
And mop the Atlantic
Even push Everest

You can never be impressed or happy
Because even in the midst of a feast
You will still be looking for what to eat

I wonder why
Yet you want a perfect guy
When you have me...

Sympathy comes when all your entreaties hit a wall of NO
Wetin you carry come, you still carry am go
Chike’s case was like that of Moses
He saw the promise land of milk and roses
He saw the left, right and center
But failed to enter
Chike all night braved his hardon
But the hairy gate granted him no pardon
O! Prison gate, fastened with padlock
Chike has patience but no Goodluck
Such a gentleman, he doesn’t force things
Even when the typhoonic congi grow wings
She has it and she flaunts it
But only give it when she wants it
O! Chike, count your nearlys, name them one by one
And it will surprise you what your gentleness has done
If only Chike had known the username and password
But then again, nothing pass God
But if you seek for a man who climbed the tree
To confirm the ripeness of the mango
Then came down to throw sticks on it, ask me
And I will show you CHIKE THE GENTLEMAN

"Roses are red,violets are blue"
I ended the quote, so I can think of u
Excuse me miss
I might be a chief
But I'm no mischief
I'm no hit & dash
I'll dash, I mean provide
And no hyphen will divide
Only ampersand(& should be between U & I
U make me smile like simile without d 1st I
Our love will have no break,pause or comma
U r a dictator, u've got me spell bound
I've got U in d middle when I spell boUnd

Excuse me miss
It'z just a kiss
U won't miss
Ur period
Can I be ur 1st letter and period
In ur matrimonial sentence?
I already see our future in past tense
Forget my letters,words and sentences
I have 2 put marriage in parenthesis
Like ape planet,introduce the bracket
Those other guys that quest for pussy
Get cat as trophy
My love is no catastrophe
I'm above the word like apostrophe
So when I put an asterisk
I don't mean this as star (disaster)
Forget question Mark
This isn't the senate
Let's not debate (the bait)
About how many fishes in the river
U r a material, da diva
Don't leave me in the middle of nowHere
Like letter "H"
I will take off L & K from LUCKY
2 let U C Y you are lucky
2 have me
Excuse me miss,
It'z just a kiss
Period.

You came out of the BLUE
Into my GREY love life
I haven't been the same like PURPLE & VIOLET
Once in a BLUE moon
I do think love is a WHITE elephant
Now I'm finding the BLACK goat in the dark
I'm putting this PURPLE prose in BLACK & WHILE
I'm viewing you from a rose coloured glass
Now I'm falling like BROWN leaves
This feeling is deep like the BLUE sea
But I'm growing GREY hairs
Waiting for your GREEN light
It doesn't make sense like colour riot It seems I'm chasing rainbows
Try bleaching it,it's not fair
For you I will catch a grenade(green aid)
I can tread on this GREEN broken bottles
With my PINK sole,beat me BLACK and BLUE
With PURPLE patches
My love for you will still be everGREEN
Lyrically,I blew(BLUE) becos I'm well RED(read)
I'm hot and rising like that half a YELLOW sun
About to rain(reign) like a PURPLE cloud
I word play with more puns(porns) than BLUE film
Just imagine us rolling like ORANGE
On the RED carpet
Shaming those YELLOW belied GREEN eyed monsters
I just put YELLOW on my wings so I can emerge in flying colours
Our love will be on the SILVER screen
Painting the town RED
Just take the PINK off my BLACK face
Read my RED lips, there's no WHITE lie
Though love has it's GREY areas
We will grin(GREEN) and bear
I see us walking down the SILVER aile
You on WHITE gown and PINK rose
Let us crest our names on a YELLOW metal
I've got many colours like Joseph's coat
But you will never see my true colour
I will never put N before T in VIOLET
I can never be like American English
To have colour without you(U)
Our colourfulness will be constant like BLACKout

The cock crows high into the morning sky
Harsh songs from my useless alarm can make me die
Honks of early morning blue & white buses eat my sleep
No time,sleep hasn't been this deep
And to myself I solemnly recite
You still got plenty of time to do what's right
To get dressed, it takes you just a minute
And seconds to lace your shoe,I mean it
I clutch more tighter to my cold pillow
Turning left right as I wallow
Gently savouring the bliss of my dream
Floating like a piece of paper on stream
No pleasure can come this close
I wish time froze as I doze
Leaving this bed is an Herculean task
How does my rest hurt the world, i ask
My mama used to quote theselines
Make hay while the sun shines
And time waits for no man she said
He who invented those proverbs must have been dead
Dear mum, I beg to disagree
It's my world and I'm young and free
The clock is just a creation with 24hours
24 isn't enough,we need a clock of ours
And I blame that device for my life ills
Verily verily, the clock kills
I lost a big contract
Eye balls dilate,wrinklescontract
Carried over some courses
Mr. Clock was the head of thecauses
I was like Y me?like the end of rhyme
Just because I couldn't keep time
Those 3 evil hands combine to make me late
But since I was born,I'm yet to be late
I didn't know the clock from Adam‎
Pardon me if I'm late Oga and Madam
As I go on grudgingly living my life
Not like a time keeper that makes time his wife
I know that keeping time is my nemesis‎
Right from the very genesis

The heap of Saturday night gig is heavy on Tunde
The weight is deaf to the sound of the church bells
He’s cold on bed; last night was as hot as hell
Even the birds of the air know it’s Sunday

Yes Sunday, a special day in the week
The urge of attending church is a mast in his heart
He’s high on sleep, still on shoes and hat
His spirit is willing but his flesh is weak

For the hurdles of life, Sunday is a tonic
On a Sunday morning, Tunde is born again
But at night, he is watching porn again
His partial contact to God has been chronic

His door sticker shouts “I am a winner”
But in the hood, he’s the only church man
Of his entire friends, he’s the only church fan
In church with saints, at home with sinners

He drinks, smokes, womanizes and such
Sin is a burden, he’s strapped to the load
The worst place to stand is the middle of the road
Tuned give your life to Christ and not to church