Its happening now.' Asymetric symtomatic
Assonence-less without redress..subtle warnings, its the dawning, fear is spawning
Night to morning.' Billionaires drive, much psudeo, mumbo-jumbo ( what do we know?) Why is
this so..Just stroke their ego.."
And you'll find how, things will go.!
I don't endorse 'going with flow'
for of course you never know
if the current will funnel
you down the drain
the tubes or flume
through the tunnel
toward the spume
to where you end up
in the sewer below
so as I'm in no rush to gush
or feel completely flushed
here and now I do avow
for me the bowl on the whole
is a non-starter a definite no-go
brothers want me to be an intermediary
their argument loud, their voices did carry
in between the two is not where I want to be
why does the family always turn and pick on me?
"The No-Go Zone"
I’m in edit mode
you know
yeah, you know
when the mirror
has blind zones
black holes
suck you in
you’re in love
with the no way
hell no way
am I going
back there
again
I’m in edit mode
the zone
you know
yeah,
you know
you know
(LadyLabyrinth/ 2023)
You cannot help everybody
You cannot save everybody
You cannot be the hero/heroine of everybody
Surely you have good intentions towards people
For sure you have that zeal to help people
But you know what?
Not everyone in need of help can actually be helped
No matter what!
Just do your best to your very best
And leave the rest
No go do pass yourself...
Don't struggle to give what you don't have
Or cannot afford...
Many moons ago,
Rudolph played in the snow.
He did not have to fly,
With Father Christmas, in the sky,
Beccause his Mummy said no.
I wrote this some time ago.
a world without words
appropriation sulking
no tango to dance
God no go shame us
I no fit shout
But all I can say is
Thank you God
It you no dey faithful
I no know as this world
For ugly for son of Man
I no fit Hala pass myself
Cos your Goodness
And mercy sweet pass
Mama ngozi jellof rice
Even Senegal own
No fit try you blessings
Upon my soul
I no fit shout
I no fit Hala
Cos I know last last Baba
God no go shame us
Many moons ago
Rudolph played in the snow
He did not have to fly
With Father Christmas, in the sky
Because his Mummy said no
The man laughed
Angering the woman
No wedding now
D-oing something good
I-s sure to please the Father;
N-o evil work will win,
N-o wrong will take
O-ver.
M-aking the right move
A-ims to glorify the Lord;
N-o error will bring regret,
G-ain another good record.
O-n the twenty-seventh of August,
S-tay away from sorrow;
I-t won't make you fine,
N-o good is a no
G-o.
What I know I cannot divulge
because I should not know it.
I snuck a look in secret
without you knowing.
Now my knowing torments me
as you don't know about it yet.
I cannot tell you about it.
Should I hasten your discovery;
will this reveal my secret?
How can I fain surprise
when I already know?
Will my quick response reveal
my foreknowledge?
I wish I had never snuck a look
in the envelope, as it has left me in
'no go land' with mine fields all around me.
I was only trying to help,
but now I am helpless
in a trap of my own making.
A nowhere man in no go land.
So!
So what!
Or so not.
So not so cool,
by that I mean cruel.
This world wants to play fool.
It surely saddens God's creative eye, so!
To see beloved earth fall apart.
When did downward spiral start?
A mean streaked heart
too often wins.
So sins.
So!
No!
No way,
do not say.
No one walks toward,
or seeks God's rich reward.
There appears to be no forward
path to righteousness, say yes or no!
To sin, your own choice make.
Speak up your chances take.
For the world's sake
will you let
evil set?
No!
Go!
Go where?
Go out there.
Make your presence felt.
Show the world you knelt,
ensuring any cold hearts did melt.
Take God's hand into the world, go!
Show strength and with the meek
stop the world's sinful streak.
Into evil goodness leak.
Sin must lose,
you choose.
Go!
For all his meals Ralph Redd ate soup
to keep him from between-meals droop.
It seemed to be OK
but then there came a day
when Ralph was unable to poop.
In forty kilometers squared
They’re killing livestock in Japan.
Atomic refugees, though scared,
return just to grab what they can
in the five hours they’re allowed
before leaving their homes for good,
look sadly at the farms they’ve plowed
and mourn their poisoned neighborhood.
Still searching for family lost
at the funeral homes each day,
they haven’t realized the cost
or the price that they still must pay.
Fukushima’s apology
means little while they sort debris.
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