Always pray, all happenings are but phases,
Changing traceable atmospheric treats...
When doubt can't be healed to save ignorance
Or standing faith could gain whole salvation-
No pressure, but pray off pleasure always...
That all seasons would ever cease holidays.
Always pray, fearful thrills are but failures,
Prompting bold chances to succumb defeats...
When peace can't run without smooth complains
Rather than troubling awaiting glory;
Having pictured the prime instead of now,
Debating promise watching tempting vow.
Always pray, tears off will- is but a clue
Testing the stand of standard chilling vibes,
When cross seems unbearable to shoulder
Without reliable backing following up...
Coming falls trailing uneasiness point,
Wrong backup could easily disappoint.
Always pray, wealth is but staggering pleasure...
Toasting everlasting grace off heavenly bids,
When worldly assets ain't God's flattering deeds;
Accounting love that uphold greedy quests-
Totality is up to Him not strength:
Wishes are dreams but not fulfilling length.
A mile and ahead to summit,
Can’t stop although I lack permit.
I am always so eager to admit ,
It matches my way and habit .
A game beyond any loss or profit,
I deny to quit and never retreat.
A script without retake and edit,
Confidence prevails and uplift.
Who said it to be undoable?
None here is infallible.
Resisting roughness makes it unreachable.
My soul says divinity is repeatable.
Natural obligations are traceable.
But can’t stop as journey seems to be remarkable.
Sometimes I feel small
Small but dangerous
Like a single, radioactive atom
Barry Manilow, the Beatles, They Might be Giants, Harry Cow, Madlib, Thom Yorke, Corey Taylor, Theodore Geisel.
I don't write the best poems.
I wish I at least looked like I was trying.
I have too much to write about, and not enough words to say it.
The damage has already been done.
So I float on through an indeterminate stream
unsettling, yet somehow certain,
more so than a gust of wind
a visible, traceable vector
that expands in the favorable paths of life
or at the very least, the eternal now and present things thing that are
the stars,
the gaps in space
and the rocks moving within
the astrotonic plate,
the rift of the present day that is and is always
right here.
There are few heros in my life
Baba Kauro is top of the ladder
You are the Uncle turned father in the
African setting
You were the father I sought for and found solace
in
You inspired me in ways my dad never did
You believed in me when my dad had doubts
Your trust and encouragement were the fuel and energy that fired me up
It's been 33 years that you left, but your legacies and impact is still traceable
I wish you and your brother my dad were here to see your children, nieces and nephews
The motivation and inspiration has paid off.
I am eternally grateful to you both.
(Written on 30th October, 2023.)
History is the view of the far past in the present
Yet no present is without a past
Though the future looms before us
Yet nothing is new under the Sun.
Anything that is, has been before.
The present is life"s linkage to the future.
A future without the present is the present without a history.
The history of my people defines their pre-existence
The Nok terracotta, the relics, pieces of potters, are landmarks of a skilled civilization only being unearthed now.
The history refires their potentials.
History is you standing on thresholds of generations,
Whose genealogy has been lost.
You are the oral custodians that generations have longed to express.
A people without a history is a people without a future
Is a people without generational synergy
A people with traceable history have a future predicated on a great past.
(Written on the 9th of March, 2015)
The mind is an identifiable entity.
It resembles the dull interior of a cavity.
From the comfort of a mother's womb.
In the icy depths of the tomb.
Every idea has wings that lift it into the air.
Up an incredibly small fuzzy flying stair.
Sometimes it will fall off your nails.
To thrive in a litter that draws veils.
Even the best ideas start with a bang.
And listen as Karan releases the clang.
Written: December 26, 2022
There is a book
That only the dead may know
Displaying man's deeds
For LOVE to show
Many tales are written
Upon its pages
By those who call themselves
Philosophers, sages
Just because its recorded
Doesn't make it so
Even if the powerful
Presents a traceable flow
From the beginning to end
Pages keep being added
Like grandma's doilies
History has tatted
The Book of Life
Records the WORD spoken
The Binding is the thread
Interwoven and broken
Nothing of fear
Can ever come near
This sacred book
No authority
Or stolen power
Can come to look
...without an invitation
Written by Trudy Schrader on 09-16-2022
Underworld Don has the Power to jam cell signals and block Internet to disconnect a person from the rest of the world.This blockage can continue from one hour to seven days.When they have to kidnap or Kill someone they do it so that target cannot inform his loved ones about the incident and by doing so they isolate him from contacting his saviours.Underworld can also locate exact position of a person through device number,IMEI number and sim number.Don also keeps an eye on our mobile phones and internet surfing.The spy system is granted by high command intelligence officials.The only way to avoid Red Circle is to stay alert and be aware of surroundings...
Note.Telecommunication devices are traceable and blockable.
Nothing that you say
Is ever lost; it's filed away
Goes down in history
In someone's memory
And everything you do
Is traceable to you
Be as kind as you can be
Living your biography.
Every contact leaves a trace
Every line in your face
All the stigma of disgrace
All the splendour of good grace.
Your secrets stashed away
Light up with D.N.A.
The practiced jewelled smile
Belies an inner guile
A wayward sinful thought
Enacted, sees you caught
Be as true as you can be
Living your biography.
First, a look at the individual;
He is born to survive
A malleable, but robotic mind
He learns to want
Then decides what it's worth
And carries on wanting
Now, a look at his teacher;
It is the hand that feeds
Sustenance or destitution
Sustenance begets the wanting of more
Destitution begets the wanting of sustenance
He carries on wanting
His teacher, abandoned
He looks around
And celebrates a cease of suffering
He carries on looking
As traceable time would suggest
There is no shortage of celebration
He stops looking
He hears an infantile cry
His hand yearned for
Placed in his pocket
It carries on wanting
Your point?
Free verse is unbound by form,
No traceable pattern or point to attain,
Just a poet’s genuine expression,
Nothing more, nothing more.
my heart lovingly
feels older, woman embrace
an embraceable
her hopes and presents
so predictable and kind
so embraceable
just so traceable
so predictable and kind
my heart yearns woman
5/12/19
Born into family
Resemblances I see;
Expressions, looks, the eyes
And hair, it is all there;
Traceable D N A
Whom I am; it will tell.
Ancestry tells me,
What will become of
Me in the future;
Whom I was, days past,
Prince or pauper, I.
Heritage is
Amazing biz;
No turning back;
The die was cast.
Still for me
I’ve yet to
See that which,
Truly
explains,
Me.
Gaelic must go, the British Government ruled
They took our lands away
Banned the pipes and wearing of the tartan
But our memory holds to this day
Our strong sense of lineage, it’s influence is vast
Traceable back to Somerled
Who masterminded the Viking outcast
Ours is a land steeped in hospitality and charm
Home to the eagle and the wild deer
The mountains, lochs, islands and moors are a celebration
Of what the Gaels hold dear
A strong new generation of Gaeldom has now grown
Out from ages past
It’s seeds of genealogy have been sown
Chemically induced confessions
Traceable affections
A hands on lesson
Your body on display,
eyes follow
the edge of every curve
from your smile to your hips
to my freudian slips
My thoughts and your body
are one and the same
the sound of my pillow
Says my heart is racing
In a minute, I'll exhale
to keep the room from spinning
Justice on my mind
For a crime I have in mind
Your bitten lip
says you're complicit,
confessions are whispered
guilty as I am
the sun begins to ascend
as we transcend
all that we were
Embracing who we might be
on a forever endeavor
or maybe just a few hours more
Crime and punishment
Criminally negligent
Title it however you want
I will remain unapologetic
for you thanking me
repeatedly.
That was what I was thinking.
You have a right to remain silent
Now, shall we begin
with some extracurricular activities
retracing the lines I drew
from your body
to that synapses
that said
"Don't say a word"
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