OLUWAJIMI . J . THORPE

To a coy mister Here's a coy mister. Shutting eyes to all sinister. Here's a coy mister Adjourning love fi esta. Here's a coy mister Loving to blister. Here's a coy mister Caring is a glister. Here's a coy mister Engrossed with timeless si esta. ....that dope eyes Would be eaten by lice. That covert fiesta Would become yester. That blister Would soon dister. That glister Would make him a lister That timeless siesta Would make him a eternal mister. © Apeketheblackbard

We wasted days and wished, Like princely kin to be, Yet when the day is dawn, And work is brought to us, We flinch and walk away. We wasted years and wished, That when we grew we'd reach, Heights to have been built, In perished years of youth, Then curse and cuss at life, For being quite unfair. The day is young for you, To make up for wasted years, For only while the sun shines, Would the hay be made ready, Lest wail you in turmoil, When the need shall arise. @4tuneHills ©2018

Can you imagine anything as chaotic as Lagos traffic, I mean seriously it's a mad house. My friend always told me how awesome Lagos is but that traffic tells a whole different story. How else do you explain getting in a bus and then the tire busts, the conductor puts you in another bus and that once tire busts too, all this when you are in a hurry! Wow! Then the Yeye conductor will open his brown teeth and be laughing, seriously. Lagos traffic has the ability to change people, it turns a perfect gentleman into a beast, a lady into an animal. It literally transforms you. But I guess that's what you have to do to survive. Off the road they are perfectly normal but Once they get on the road it's like something goes of in their heads and next thing we hear is hulk smash. Lagos traffic turns a ten to fifteen minutes journey to one hour fifteen minutes journey. I mean I have to get up at ungodly hours not to do ungodly things which would have been expected and/or acce...

their business... OUR interest.      their frustration OUR alteration.... ....     ........     their home OUR Cocoa-dome. their solitude OUR fortitude. their trial OUR flier. their flaw OUR law.         their strength        OUR threat.   their mourn OUR fun. WE Are. © Apeketheblackbard Artwork via: Lastritesgallery

To learn while still a child What this life is meant to be. To know it goes beyond myself, It's so much more than me. To overcome the tragedies, To survive the hardest times. To face those moments filled with pain, And still manage to be kind. To fight for those who can't themselves, To always share my light. With those who wander in the dark, To love with all my might. To still stand up with courage, Though standing on my own. To still get up and face each day, Even when I feel alone. To try to understand the ones That no one cares to know. And make them feel some value When the world has let them go. To be an anchor, strong and true, That person loyal to the end. To be a constant source of hope To my family and my friends. To live a life of decency, To share my heart and soul. To always say I'm sorry When I've harmed both friend and foe. To be proud of whom I've tried to be, And this life I chose to live. To make the most ...

We told a lie and we believed it It was retold over and over Even the cats believed it If you tell a lie long enough; It becomes your truth. We told them they don't belong with us, We black tag them In the night; curse and stone them This is the story of cats Especially the black ones But we identify with racism The same we show to these little Artwork by: Caminoalarte

The world is completely green to an innocent mind, but an innocent mind is indisputably blind. Evil has no chance in water and I've swam a Spring river, says a friend called Latifah. Ask her who sinks the ships in Bermuda, she would never know it's Lucifer. I once read about a lady. In the house of her parents was an adored baby. Give any code of conduct she would always obey, not in any way rough or uncouth; she would walk splendidly without relay. But sometime, her dresses started to fade, and when she went to a river to bade, she was kidnapped and eaten by a mermaid. No revenge possible; a river is not a place to attack or raid. To a child, the world is beautiful. He would sit by fire, not afraid but considers everything wonderful. But soon enough when burnt, he gets dreadful. Writers know what the world is: a man could gather all sorts of wealth but for a while would the wealth be his. Yet when we write we call the world "beautiful", how we love to tease...