Thursday, May 12, 2011 7:11:04 PM
I will follow You.
the Rhythm, the Warmth,
And the breath,
The shades, and fades,
from within which,
In your majestic flights,
The winds, circling
Echoes of the drums,
Shared over the buried,
lines of the underwater blue,
Or flying, alone, but not falling.
Filling, all the gap,
Journey seemingly infinite,
Full of vibrant, tasty,
Spell-it-out, I dare not,
this ride, I am on to.
But I am flying,
And home, It is.
Here is mine outstretched...
Posted via email from dapxin's posterous
Friday, February 11, 2011 6:54:47 PM
This is quite frightening, as it is meaningful.
Somebody has been running around saying “I dey laugh”.
His supporters have been running around like him,
like brainless monkeys saying, “I dey laugh”.
It is as if the suffering of 150 million people
is a laughing matter.
But hear this:
you have been laughing and laughing and laughing.
We will have the last laugh and whoever laughs last laughs best.
You laughed and laughed not because anything is funny.
Instead, you are funny.
Your behaviour is funny.
Your mind is funny.
Your existence is funny,
we must have the last laugh at your infantile existence.
Source: SaharaReports commentary
Saturday, October 3, 2009 8:16:16 PM
that maddening buzz,
mental and nervous overdrive,
the fate of a football fan,
games like this ?
they came out,
drove into the theatre of dreams,
blanket eerie everywhere,
swallowing the dream,
as if enamoured by the golden sun,
in their land - Steve Bruce;
offsprings of a don...
with bizarre procession,
sprinkles the mortal juices;
evil ones, if you are the drinking manc;
the Greene asking,
Taking the M-I-C,
and Danny Wellbeck starts,
that its 27years of mixing,
equally startling proportions,
for new United inductees,
in endless search,
for the king...
The anti-United brigandage,
dreaming and hoping,
partly enjoying the drama,
served with arresting force,
that the consipiracists,
as the Fergie-time-cloud,
ticks/tock/ and its 2-1
in the wait,
the sacred final whistle
the force twists,
the dream collapses under the weight,
of impending glory,
still standing tall,
what force ?
Visits eternal stupidity,
with spontenaous alacrity,
delivered first class,
94minutes of Intensity,
It burns, you cant cry,
It rocks, you are mad,
It sucks, you are alone,
without blood, It galls,
without goals, It bores...
without nerves, dont play.
Yet, Its Heaven,
Unknown when you get there,
Unseen what drives,
Unstoppable, what gives.
Heaven inside hell...
Sunday, June 28, 2009 8:36:24 PM
I so enjoyed this game,
it brought me back to the fringes
of my poetry.
So I summed it up this way here
Football is a funny art.
It does no favours usually.
It rewards hardwork always does, but it worships mastery;
And it respects quality.
And it doesnt console arrogance.
It knows only winners and losers,
But, winners always must prove it.
Take heart, Yanks.
They are Brazil. Football gods. Footballs best. Footballs unstoppables.
Tuesday, November 25, 2008 1:10:14 AM
Listening to this song Toward the light as I woke up this morning on my favourite Jazz radio -http://smoothjazz.com, I couldn't help but think of the following lines.
( I haven't written a single line of poetry, since she and I shut the light out ....
// Waking up everyday,
// the blues up, the many unknowns approaching,
// our lives paging out fast,
// but our best, always flowing endlessly,
// only if we find the grace, and the will
// to connect to the small beautiful things
// that make the pass of time, memorable...
// right until the very end.
Mesmirising instruments, deep and inspiring bass, I listen in awe as 3rd Force woke me into the ordeals and small excitements of the day.
I am on the lookout for more...toward the light.
As always, here is an Mp3 of the track - http://rapidshare.com/files/167100095/11._Towards_the_Light.mp3
Listen to this when you wake up and see how beautiful it is to your soul.
Monday, March 17, 2008 11:14:27 PM
Today, another of days you really never know how to describe. Events panned, from the feeling of dying from starvation, to the excitement of seeing someone who rocks your world, so upclose, so tightly everything was basal, yet still finding the mutual grace to keep the whiteness, the purity and the shared stock of immense superiority....
Fact is, there was such a marginal separation between yesterday and today. I was up all night, I hadnt done this in a long time, for any other reason than working or studying.
But I did. Going to be bed only at 5AM approx, only to be woken by the bang of my mobile - a call from an aunt in Lagos. I had to take the call, managed to get up, swaggering like an entity that's bound to fall like a domino pack, I cleaned up my disgraceful room, and ate some Rice.
Then I spoke with you baby G, (you know who you are ) and I came.
This is an ode to you,to me, for the things we both know, the good, the bad, the funny, the naive, the mature, and the plain sense of compassion & grace... And an ode to today, so we might sing, in the days ahead.
In mine, my life,
few are the things that you look back into time,
And feel a sense of awe.
moments were, that were truly awesome,
as to the things, wanted and offered,
but siginificantly senseless,
naive, and outrightly overwhelming...
thoughts were, that will linger on,
As to things spoken, unspoken, but so enormously powerful,
it takes extraordinary heroes - You and I - to overcome...
Experience was, bringing out the
gigantic strength of our specialness...
The serenity of whiteness & purity - still maintained,
the grace to be understanding,
in the heat of naivety but genuine onslaughts,
The perils of loneliness, and pleasures of love,
that we find,
And the finality of not falling alone, nor jointly
We were winners. Only special souls do. Special ones that was two.
17th March 2008,
Dapo Osewa ( 10PM )