The POTUS, "Napoleon Bonaspur",
has once again created quite a stir.
The Lincoln Reflecting Pool
looks just like a big cesspool
and that makes him look like an amateur.
The day I knew what I had to do
There were no fires burning
Anywhere in California,
So it wasn’t impossible to think ahead....
And I heard my own voice
Pushing me out the door
Without anyone following,
No guidance from the wounded,
So I let each foot touch the ground
Like an amateur hiker
Who knew Mt. Everest
Was beckoning on a cold
Thanksgiving morning,
A white temple of light that ignited a cloud ridden landscape
Like an army of seraphim
Rising out of nowhere,
Letting me know that pressing on
Would unleash the savior.
My ataraxia, lost
Now exists a thought
troubling my mind,
a thought of a grand poem
imploring to be penned,
a thought playing
the ho-hum game
of hide and seek,
a thought
appearing and disappearing
like an amateur magician’s act,
a thought like the others
I end up writing about,
A thought
I must tirelessly
Scour my mind for,
For that is
a poet’s horror story
And I will finally
slay my ghost
When I read that poem
written as it wanted to be -
LONELINESS
The lonely person walks unnoticed
with unfocused eye and unsteady step,
failing to keep pace with the crowd.
An approach of reliance to everything,
like a crutch under the arm of the wounded,
maintains balance amidst turbulence.
You saw and did not recognize or notice,
as if that person was as normal as you,
but beneath the shrouded cloak of emptiness
hides a soul weeping dry tears.
Loneliness feeds on isolation,
depression its friend, little noticed,
but there are signals.
Loneliness has a signature;
a tell-tale sign for all to see,
like an amateur gambler's tell.
It might live with you unknown
or work by your side eight hours a day,
where its influence grinds,
as if it were a metal file.
Loneliness is looking for new hosts.
Has it found you?
Another golden star had fell
Turn down your bright light
And let the candle flame burns slowly
While we honour the hero shrouded in his passing bell
Great larinde is no more, died in a violent struggle with death
And his award winning whole swims in a pool of emotional blood
The golden jewel is stolen by death
In a line we fails to hold, only to be imagined : had he still alive, he would have done like this.
Doctor Larinde has treated us this way. Like a selfish, he went all in all with his undaunted and vast talents.
Had we knew, we would have cried more than Elisha “our father! The chariot of Nigeria”
It seems that his magnificent talents can threatened the agents of death
While we believed his eloquences can cause death to shiver
Yet, the great warrior loses the battle like an amateur
While the his philosophical stands has not conquer death through researches
Even if the ground is painted by mourning and the whole world fails to contain the multitude of our words; the truth stands still : Larinde is gone, into a journey of no return.
O d’arinako, a d’oju ala, o di beni jo ni a b’eniyan n joyan
We love you but God loves you more.
LAMENT FOR LARINDE
Another golden star had fell
Turn down your bright light
And let the candle flame burns slowly
While we honor the hero shrouded in his passing bell
Great larinde is no more, died in a violent struggle with death
And his award winning whole swims in a pool of emotional blood
The golden jewel is stolen by death
In a line we fails to hold, only to be imagined : had he still alive, he would have done like this.
Doctor Larinde has treated us this way. Like a selfish, he went all in all with his undaunted and vast talents.
Had we knew, we would have cried more than Elisha “our father! The chariot of Nigeria”
It seems that his magnificent talents can threatened the agents of death
While we believed his eloquence's can cause death to shiver
Yet, the great warrior loses the battle like an amateur
While the his philosophical stands has not conquer death through researches
Even if the ground is painted by mourning and the whole world fails to contain the multitude of our words; the truth stands still : Larinde is gone, into a journey of no return.
O d’arinako, a d’oju ala, o di beni jo ni a b’eniyan n joyan
We love you but God loves you more.
full of hidden meaning,
many reasons just for creating it.
beauty captured with words,
used to stimulate emotions.
so rich in it's various forms,
stirring mixed sensations.
like an exotic flavor, untold!
lost in the artist's sophistication;
rending the use of my logical understanding,
like an amateur,
holding unto it's last excitement,
works of true inspiration,
with hidden secrets of passion,
founded like it was the first poem ever written for you.
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