Best Of Both Worlds: Arts & Sciences

Thou knowest you,
All,
All thy deeds,
They know,
How you tremble
Like you were before kings & queens,
And how thy face would look rumpled
As if thou needeth some ironing,
But it is thy heart
That needeth ironing,
What does thou fear for,
What does thou care about
If not that thou does care,
That thou care about thy appearance
After thou has made certain of it
Time after time,
Over and over,
Why does thou care
To entertain whispers,
Does thou really thinketh
That if the truth be bitter
Then,
All that is bitter
Is true?
And if thou
Wreaks of nervousness
Like it is unto a war,
Why does thou not heed thy ally
Rather than thou
Who works and watches tediously
For thy fall?
If thou hath no sense,
Thou ought to be common enough
To sense this…

Love sees us all as the crazy generation,
The one that rarely asks for it,
The one that barely ever sees it coming,
The one that almost only
Stumbles and falls into it,
Indeed, a crazy a generation to love,
The one that not only falls into it
But even falls out of it,
The one that sees it coming
And starts a traffic,
The one that sees it going
And gives a green light,
Love ponders still about this crazy generation,
The one that don’t have it and say they do,
And the one that has it and says they don’t,
The one that have nothing yet boasts of it,
The one that has experienced its beauty & want nothing more of it,
And the one that has no clue how it feels
Yet have an image, & a dream of how it would be,
Love indeed knows this crazy generation,
The one that has love yet seeks for more,
The one that has a crush and thinks its love for sure,
The one that finds infatuation
And thinks of it as much more,
The one who says they’re in love yet have no patience at all,
The one that never knows what they’ve got until its gone,
Love weeps for this generation,
For the most part of this generation
As love knows some who is not a part of all the love craziness going on,
But love seeks for more and many more
To rescue out of this ‘love’ crazy generation…

Change,
what is change?
as i pry the dark hours of the night,
i ask myself,
what is change?
Just as a dear friend asked me,
out of context,
what is change?
i now seek to know what it is,
and for the first time,
i open the dictionary,
to look for the word change,
and know its meaning.
I reminisce, the words of a black man,
seeking change,
saying, yes we can,
i supported him
as much as i could have,
with the assumptions of knowing
what this word is,
and today, i understood concisely and precisely
what change was really,
added to my presumptions of the words meaning.
change has been abused,
been wrongly used,
fine-tuned
to accuse too many people
in whatever they do,
and i guess I'm about to be a victim too
of its wrong use,
but that's just me
wondering from change's cubicle,
let me now share my view
based on knowledge and understanding.
change,
i disagree that it is constant,
i agree that it is in the human character,
yet,
a second time, i disagree
with everything i agree with,
and agree with everything i disagree with.
why?
'cause it's change.
the keyword in the definition
of the word change is "different",
for some, growing up is worth nothing more than a cent,
and for some others, it does make a difference,
while a child is described as growing,
likewise a seed, i wonder why they never describe them to be changing,
subsequently, i do not know what change is,
yet i know what it means,
'cause it is an interpretation,
that doesn't know what to call the onion,
that it has a peel upon a peel
and another upon another
and so forth, that, they're all in one,
yet as it peels off, one sees it not as change but as what?
as a layer, as the inhibited that lets out
soon as the other has been un-threaded...
P.S:
This is not poetry,
this, to me, is prose...

love
is but a cycle,
and as such,
there exist two options,
you either recycle,
or allow the end of it's cycle...

We never explode
without first imploding,
we never grow up without experiences,
experiences that kill us
before we then sprout up
like corns,
we are
like everything green,
needing a little bit of water,
a little bit of pruning & weeding,
and then a little bit of care,
to die like a seed
planted up on a field,
today,
and tomorrow,
that sprout up as a tree...

Witness thy strength,
power is in thy every movement,
and even when thou does moveth not,
power lies, still, in thy stillness...

view if you like on my wordpress blog

Hahaha, he laughed,
there's been a taboo in the land,
he spoke to all who had gathered,
hahaha, his laughter echoed with a satire
he's eyes red with anger,
"famine & hunger" were the words proclaimed from the gods mouth,
the oracle had had been called upon at the shrine,
and the dibia had read the signs,
above them, the clouds gather in the sky,
lightening and thunder brewing inside
and waiting for the curse to be spoken out,
then it would strike (down) the accursed man or woman,
it was a perilous time,
Nnena looked at the boils all over her,
she needed not time to contemplate in her mind,
if lightening and thunder should strike,
it would only be a blessing in disguise,
suffering and pain surrounded her
and she embodied them now,
she had had it from toe to mouth
ready to leave life and let the embodiment live hers,
for since she was a child, the path
that life had given her was built with thorns at every side,
left, right, up and down, life was hard,
she had parents that were poorer than the bushes in the desert,
for water, she'd trek miles to fetch from the grounds as deep as gold mines,
and that was only luck's smiles,
when it didn't,
she would walk further with bare feet as her slippers to the river,
her sufferings, enough to make a book of Atlas,
but almost a grown woman now,
suffering was about to embrace her once last time,
she was ready for a bone-crushing-body-taking-soul-freeing embrace,
until yesterday, she was ready to be late,
except that, what came yesterday changed her aim,
it brought life into her being, something so forbidden,
she could already feel herself healing from the temporary illness
that came about as a result of stress and the unfailing acceptance of a light that wanted to
quench,
now, things has changed, it took just yesterday for things to become different,
it took two tiny little similar babies for things not to look the same,
for Nnena to see things in a different way, that life was too precious to give away,
that giving hers away meant giving two others away as well,
and even though the world around her, that the world that she knew told her
that there can never be two the same face, two people that had
-no differences in any way,
at least not yet,
she convinced herself that these two were there to stay...

i love what i want,
i hate what i need,
i like what i want,
i don't like what i must seek...

The questions were worn like clothes,
not like an armour, shield nor weapon
as it should have been worn,
they were made from materials
like linnen, cotton, wool or lace,
without any metal attachments,
space, holes, lurked like pores
on the skin, invisibly,
but in the eyes of the one
who looked at the mirror's reflections,
promises of long fought wars
of a car driven in at a traffic congestion,
of a marriage walking pace concession,
of gold medals sitting in a pile of dust
in todays crumbling economic situation,
all took a different turn,
the end of the forlong curse
revealed pictures of blessings to come,
all the eyes saw was true conviction
to step forward
to puncture not but to learn of,
yet without preparation,
questions were as sharp as swords
and answers from one
who saw not the images of "the man in the mirror"
struck,
for the absence of mutual knowledge
of weapons being yielded without caution,
of a cold war being fought
in the war frots on a battle ground filled with blood
meant the birth of gore,
the abortion of any clear thoughts,
the ensuring love for gore to mature,
have it's first celebration
and maybe, many more...

Sailor,
sail (with) me,
row your boat gently
underneathe this slippery bridge,
between love and hatred,
we'll stride carefully,
to the left,
lies hatred,
avoidable quarrels,
neglect, and violence
are only a few, of the quickest ways
to get there,
to the right,
love lies,
it's route is care,
attention and deligence,
and others as well,
i'd guess,
with me,
you'll want to sail there,
but i once sailed there,
and while there,
i was shattered to bits of fragments,
the way there
i can no longer steer,
for my will
is to steer clear,
so don't throw away caution in the wind
as you steer me
with this chance i've allowed to be again steered...