Morning Dailies
As the dews of dawn
Mellows down
Misting away the sins of yesterday
Hunting off the dust of the dusk
While jolting us
away from our haunting slumber
Then comes
the whispering of the morning breeze
savoring the day
With its mystic secrets
First of all,they saw him to be wretched,
"Vagrant and a pauper",he was classified as such with entirety,
He passed by them feeling like someone in captivity,
Violence wasn't filled within him,
Fellow pedestrians also murmured among themselves,
"His walking and speaking qualities prove he feeds on cannabis",
They later felt amused when they read his profile in the dailies,
"Oh,what a wrong justification we've made",
They shouted from closets,
His abode doesn't entertain upsets,
He's a classic noble man,
Pertained with spiritual qualities of a brand.
The Sun spits flames of fire at noon,
melodies of mercy flow from the full moon...
The whirlwind whispers to the weak and wise
as arrows of hope sparkle in the skies.
Vengeance looms, warn the offenders;
danger dangles on the neck of pretenders.
We will wait no more for things to happen,
rouse the bows, let the doors of death open!
We will not kill with gun and swords,
posterity feel the wildness of our words...
We shall slaughter our silence to save
our future from their political grave.
Their empty promises and bulky pockets
shall soon be rocked by our roaring rockets...
We shall wage no war but fight to finish
lest these lousy leaders make us perish.
Foolishness flows in the field of our sages,
gloom and doom fill our dailies' pages.
Hope hides behind words unspoken,
we shall get this loud silence forever broken.
Copyright 2014 Adeleke Adeite
Pencil-thin branches
topping a tree outside
the picture window are
thrashing in tandem
with the tempo of
your distress. The sky's
as leaden as Northern
Europe's daytime
dailies. Rainwater
pools prettily on building
roofs for your bedside
pastime. A good thing as
Baptism for birds. Not
for you, such simplicity,
waking in a blood bath,
the IV ripped from
your flailing wrist. Was
it good dreams, or
nightmare? Death wish,
or wake-up call?
Good omen, or bad?
Daylight
is the referee.
The Sun spits flames of fire at noon,
melodies of mercy flows from the full moon...
The whirlwind whispers to the weak and wise,
as arrows of hope sparkle in the skies.
Sing O victims vengeance is coming soon!
Vengeance looms, warn the pretenders;
danger dangles on the neck of offenders.
We will wait no more for things to happen,
brave men; let the doors of death open.
we are to posterity the dogged defenders.
We will not kill with gun and swords,
lest posterity feel the heat of our words...
Sweet sacrifice; we shall slaughter to save
our future buried in the greed's grave.
We are going to mend the broken cords.
Their empty promises and bulky pockets
shall soon be rocked by our silent rockets...
We shall wage no war but fight to finish
lest these lousy leaders lead us... to perish.
The sun shall pluck their eyes off the sockets.
Foolishness flows in the field of our sages,
gloom and doom fill our dailies' pages.
Hope hides behind words unspoken,
we shall get this loud silence forever broken.
They shall be paid with woes their sin-wages!
An happy goat grins in green
Such rare species that smiles
A bloody heart entangled in codes
Freedom is my plea
In sights, i've seen
Earth gains inches in progression
In gazes, i've shied
Guilty miser - self-tagged
The bible of a race
My mind is hell-bent on relaying
In her Iris, last noon
The norms acclimatizing
In her pupil, last night
Blinking tilts, shutters her thoughts
And doubled my sighs
Before her cornea, I stood
My amplitude seeming infinite again
In that split second
I'd read the dailies
The headline glaringly read
'Injured by Addiction'
Followed by massive audible texts
Jamming the frequency of my mind
My beats doubled, I feared bloodshed
But it was just a thoroughfare
With links tabooed by culture
Here, in a boredom of my
broken heart, I dwell
Shrouded with grief as
time stands still in my cell.
Staring blank walls as
heavy-feet days go bye.
In the dark chamber of
my thoughts, I still feel I
will die
Here, where haunting
silent champions my
broken soul
And imaginations of my
freedom dare not console
I shall stay, forever
haunted by thoughts of
my innocence
As my captor's death
chains grow more dense
Here, in death's ocean of
nightmare I am laid,
Breathing with despair,
the death's choice of the
year they said.
How I wish the truth is
like a blazing sun,
My captors would know
I am an innocent one
Here, where dark ceilings
dare not communicate
I have nurtured a double
decade brought by hate.
As stories of crime I did
not commit perch on
national dailies
The pulse of my heart
shrinks on daily basis
When the potter started to clay
out of wisdom,moulded in stages
light,separating night from day
and within time perfected all pages.
A thing of time and patience
blesses the shoulders of the wise
and the trueness of a firm conscience
builds solidly joy in the eyes
for what patience can't do,
impatience does neither
though tomorrow seems odd
for the hangs that swim quicker.
But hear therefore the song of the shephered
"in the watchful eyes of season the rain must clatter dusty grounds,and dusty
ground sprouts forages ,and forages bost the thigh of sheep "
so therefore guide your craving in the tickling of the clock,
and where delay seems as dailies or fog seems to cloud the sky
sing the song of the shepherd.