Ohhhhh, addiction, a cage, A cage that not only ensnares the body but the soul. Ohhhh, addiction, the cankerworm, That gnaws through the roots of success.
"Just one more," it whispers, "This game is nice..." And it lures you deeper, Feeding thoughts of endless indulgence, Urging you to continue that addictive behavior.
Ohhhh, youths, ohhh, children, flee! This thing, or should I say, spirit, Is a storm, a relentless storm, A tempest that will consume your youth, Overtake your destiny if it is not destroyed.
They ask, "How do we destroy it?" Is this a rhetorical question, Or can it actually be answered? That, my dear youths, is left for you to decide, To find the strength within, to break free.
For addiction is a shadow, A shadow that clings to the spirit, Whispering lies, sowing seeds of doubt, But within you lies the power, The power to rise above, to conquer the darkness.
So, stand tall, stand strong, In the face of this storm, For today, you are a warrior, Armed with the knowledge, That tomorrow, you can be free.
Categories:
cankerworm, addiction, destiny, motivation,
Form: Free verse
Some men on plenty feed,
Yet customers of greed,
The rash cankerworm breed,
Never there for your needs,
Worsening them like weeds...
I know a Shameless Steed,
Who'd never Gospels heed:
Pleased with Satan's own seed:
His best point: can minds read
Plus nice Jackets of Tweed
But paupers with Steed plead
And shake him not like reed.
Categories:
cankerworm, change, corruption, evil, money,
Form: Rhyme
JUST AS BLACK
The pot calls the kettle black,
Only when it's convenient.
But the razor blade and the
two-edged sword cuts just as deep.
The caterpillar and the cankerworm,
both cancerous in every inch.
They're eaters and destroyers,
feeding on the young and tender.
Corrupting and destructive force,
Causing havoc and catastrophe.
As the wind blares the flare,
The pot on the fire burns,
The kettle burns too,
Same way, same pattern.
The charcoal is just as black
And the stain is just as much.
Yet, the pot calls the kettle black,
only when it's convenient.
Categories:
cankerworm, africa, corruption, growth, humanity,
Form: Free verse
It’s a dreadful virus that has become an epidemic
Just like cankerworm, it has eaten our educational fabrics
Our educational system is anemic
But there is a remedy; together we all can fight against this social malady.
We need extreme energy; in other to restore examination sanity
We should resist corrupt practices, especially bribery
If we don’t fight against it then we’re doom, for anarchy and big calamity
There is a clarion call for us to save our academy
I implore all to resist corruption
Let’s try to mitigate if not eradicate this ill
Then examination malpractice will be a thing of a history.
Categories:
cankerworm, education,
Form: Rhyme
Underground bunker earworms
love to listen
to the Archie messaging
Rapt in their sheltered atomic blast,
dreamy past rewind,
they snore ignore
their borrowed time destiny
On a seethe countdown crawl,
they uranium breed much cesium fungi
Cloven mushroom tongues that fire breathe
pestilent spores of destruction —
Dark clouds of cellular division
is the Adam-splitting condition
that expands collapsing global economies
Jagged sandworm teeth,
with the overturned hourglass underbelly,
are insular wielding their unstable weaponry
They devour the olive green leaf of peace
with carnivorous cankerworm ease
Fear lovers of violent pleasures
take heed
Eve of extinction
comes upon the cause careless
like a thief
New Assyrian society,
oh how their Sennacherib hearts
Stone Age bleed —
The time space for repentance
is near zero,
needle point ticking
A conscience prick seems only to get
their radioactive rage attitude a-burrowing
Crawling deeper into the crass core of their cobalt being,
their wormwood deeds are Nineveh calling
Categories:
cankerworm, dark, society, truth, wisdom,
Form: Dramatic Verse
I wish you were my brother,
the son of my mother,
This was the true dialogue with my soul,
in many many days in a row.
Until the cankerworm came,
and my straying passion I could not tame
this left me totally in shame.
Now, I need a cure,
so I can be pure.
Categories:
cankerworm, emotions,
Form: Rhyme
THE LORD OF SECOND CHANCE
‘I will give you back years eaten by cankerWORM’
Promises like this are to our heavenly father, a NORM
Ability to honour His words are what make up His FORM
No matter the challenges we face, even in a STORM
Our God is able to turn around our situation, never lukeWARM
He has promised us mansions, even if you stay in a DORM
For many people, problems come with speed of a WIND
They look around for succor, but are unable to FIND
At those times, the promises in the scriptures come to MIND
You lift up your voice to the heavens, then loose and BIND
Folks are succeeding in this world, don’t be left beHIND.
Take up your battle-axe; if it’s blunt, try to GRIND
Though you have wasted time on worthless LEISURE
The Lord has you in mind, do search the SCRIPTURE
But you must be ready to follow Him, not a MIXTURE
His servants keep reminding us of the RAPTURE
The Lord’s coming is not on any calendar or FIXTURE
The call to commitment is greater than any call of NATURE
© Wole Popoola
September 2015
Categories:
cankerworm, africa, anxiety, appreciation, bible,
Form: Rhyme
Spring. Same plants, same order.
Monday morning, open for business.
Tractor-trailers, day care centers.
Every leaf that’s coming out is out.
To tonight’s town meeting I will go unaware and foolish.
It’s delicious, the unimportance of my feelings.
Even our particular war was small.
Europe had one last a century.
Hubble photos of events 13 billion years ago
Do not put me in mind of the species’ insignificance.
Just the opposite having witnessed the universe’s birth.
But birth from what preceding state? God again rears his hoary head.
They say one must let go and will let go,
God will decide what tragedy you need.
Not every seed becomes a flower,
Not every branch breaks out like a prosthetic trombone.
While the ancient Romans wrote of love
The ancient Britons wrote of war.
The Romans should have been perfecting their republic.
No god could do that work for them.
The November moth's the fall cankerworm--Alsophilia pometaria--
Slender-bodied, beige, beginning life as the well known inchworm.
In our war more children may have died than would have had
the tyrant lived in fear and awe.
We can never know because we conquered.
Categories:
cankerworm, birth, business, fear, flower,
Form: Free verse
Her eyes leak and her mouth sobs
Her heart beats to the rhythm of the drums
Her leg shivers and her hands weak
On the actuality that a cankerworm has eaten deep
What an absolute notion of melancholy
A disgrace to the race of humanity
An avalanche of great pain
On the WORLD it pierces with dismay
Man kidnaps man, woman kidnaps woman
Blood against blood, funeral upon funeral
A nightmare, a scarecrow to one
What a breath taken downfall of man
Armed forces, wake up from your sleeping slumber
Humans remember that the other's your brother
Fight this maestro of maudlin deformity
And resurrect freedom to National unity
This is the CRY against KIDNAPPING
:: This poem was recited by me for the book launch of THE KIDNAPPERS written by Dr Nathaniel
Categories:
cankerworm, devotion,
Form: Free verse
Raspy rich voices full of stank defeat
blend into the backdrop of early morning
Blood shot eyes cling to withered memories
of lost splendor
Desire cries to lick the fruit of possibility yet
they are unable to free themselves from the
hug of death
The cankerworm has crawled into the garden
of their youth and devoured its glory
What's mistaken as a yearning to box against
the wind like a virgin finding love for the very first
time is nothing more than unsung lullabies floating
around at the bottom of a forty ounce
Categories:
cankerworm, loss,
Form: Free verse
Raspy rich voices full of stank defeat
blend into the backdrop of early morning
Blood shot eyes cling to withered memories
of lost splendor
Desire cries to lick the fruit of possibility yet
they are unable to free themselves from the
hug of death
The cankerworm has crawled into the garden
of their youth and devoured its glory
What's mistaken as a yearning to box against
the wind like a virgin finding love for the very first
time is nothing more than unsung lullabies floating
around at the bottom of a forty ounce
Categories:
cankerworm, loss,
Form: Free verse