Once a bronze blossom shone so sophisticatedly.
Flourishing in an oasis of tropical butterflies.
Its aura would emanate from enigmatic auroras.
Its roots nourished from the scents of petrichor.
Admirers would gather to gaze at such grandeur,
oblivious of poppies among common roses,
so the jealous sun in its narcissistic loneliness,
blazed with hell like rays, creating a drought.
In the inhuman illusion of synthetic flowers,
its petals withered like rustic wicker wreaths.
I stood helpless, as the wind left it exposed,
as lifeless buds began swirling in the air.
Only evergreen textures remain timeless.
An empty garden has no worth to birds or bees.
In the silence between seasons, so much is lost,
yet unique anomalies always leave memories behind.
Happy Happy Birthday Claire Holt
To the 'ABSOLUTELY most STUNNING,
'SOPHISTICATED BEAUTY OF ALL TIME '
with the most
'SPARKLING, PERKY, ENCHANTING PERSONALITY
that goes with the
'BRIGHTEST HOMETOWN GOOD-GIRL SMILE'
let me say
Happy Happy Birthday to you
I lift up my glass with a
'LYRICAL Toast'
just as 'TOMBOY NATURALLY FLAWLESS'
and 'ENTHUSIASTICALLY, SINCERE, and ORIGINAL'
as to say to you
I hope you have a
Happy Happy Birthday
that only a
'CELESTIAL GODDESS'
like you can do
Happy Happy Birthday
to a 'BELOVED VISION of LOVELINESS'
as 'Angelically enchanting, and ADORABLY SOPHISTICATEDLY KIND'
irreplaceable CLAIRE HOLT wonderful you
Marauding herdsmen, simple
in disposition,
but yet
sophisticatedly armed
straddling an AK47 as
the rod of a stockman.
The simple farmers, genial
in disposition garnished
with infectious courtesies
straddling simple tools.
It's a fight to the slaughter
not of cows so sacred
but
Of grazing rights and farmlands
Of pastures and food crops
Of the North and the South.
The sacredness of the herdsmen
and cattle.
The lowliness of the farmlands,
life
at its lowest ebb.
Impunity!, impunity!! where the
rule of law reigns supreme.
The herdsman as sacred as
Buddha.
But the farmer as droppings on
a dunghill;
to be trampled upon.
Blood and dust a mix with
derision.
Blue blood runs in the
herdsman's veins
The herdsmen reign supreme in
Nigeria.
Well, I want to talk like Yoda
Sophisticatedly
Twisting grammer, backwards round
Sounds like poetry
Do this, I know, can I
A man wise, think, I'll be
Speaking just like Yoda
With little difficulty
So, Rhyming you, trouble have
It's as easy as can be
Yoda Speaking, just like
Makes Rhyming easily
"May the force, with you be"
Black and blue
Is the new classic look
I’m wearing it to your wedding
And showing up in nothing else
Oh, pardon me
Am I underdressed?
I am sophisticatedly slugged
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