OLUWAJIMI . J . THORPE

                In a state of oblivion, I search for a missing piece in me. In a state of oblivion, She was my only companion. In a state of oblivion, She wisperd words that lifted my fading heart. She gives strength to my fading heart when I hear her voice, Yet it goes dime like a candle in the wind. She makes my fading heart to reminisce on how she lifted my fading heart in a state of oblivion. She gives pleasant sounds that gives hope to the hopeless in a state of oblivion. In a state of oblivion, I searched for my resurrection. In a state of oblivion, watching and praying. In a state of oblivion, Her sounds gives me hope that lightened my faded heart. In her "The musical organ" I find Hope. ©ojthorpe THANK YOU FOR READING MY PUBLICATION THIS YEAR, NEXT YEAR WOULD BE BIGGER AND BETTER.          THE END 

Man, O Man! When without money, eats vegetables at home. When he has money, eats the same vegetables in a fine restaurant. When without money, rides a bicycle to and from home. When he has money rides an  ‘exercise bicycle’ at the gym. When without money, walks to earn food. When he has money, walks to burn fat. Man, O Man! Never fails to deceive thyself! When without money, wishes to get married; When he has money, wishes to get divorced. When without money, wife becomes secretary; When he has money, secretary becomes wife. When without money, acts like a rich man. When he has money acts like a poor man. Man, O Man! Never can tell the simple truth! Says share market is bad, but keeps speculating. Says money is evil, but keeps accumulating. Says high positions are lonely, but keeps wanting them. Says gambling & drinking is bad, but keeps indulging. Man, O Man! Never means what he says and never says what he means.. Life is not about what you ...

The budding shoot ripens unharmed by the scythe, Without fear of the press, on vine branches lithe, Through spring-tide the green clusters bloom. Is't strange, then, that I in my life's morning hour, Though troubles like clouds on the dark present lower, Half-frighted shrink back from my doom ? Let the stern-hearted stoic run boldly on death! I - I weep and I hope; to the north wind's chill breath I bend, - then erect is my form! If days there are bitter, there are days also sweet, Enjoyment unmixed where on earth may we meet? What ocean has never a storm? Illusions the fairest assuage half my pain, The walls of a prison enclose me in vain, The strong wings of hope bear me far; So escapes from the net of the fowler the bird, So darts he through ether, while his music is heard Like showers of sweet sound from a star. Comes Death unto me? I sleep tranquil and calm. And Peace when I waken stands by with her balm. Remorse is the offspring of crimes; My ...