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Olusegun Sotade Poem
It is heavy not to envy the harmony of loving ants.
So, we need to harry ourselves in hurry for helping hands.
Isn’t it funny the levy we pay for every pant
we exert in isolated valley to bury the ordained unity-bind?
Why are we so blind to find the peace of mind
in the kind relationship defined by smiles our eyes cannot deny?
Why can’t we feel the zeal to help our brother’s heels
in climbing a hill in progressive yield to the top-fill?
Shame on our acts as ants tread the path of fact
we depart from in pat to impact the assurance for a better path
which we are yet to extract as experts whose juvenile delinquency is intact
in “grown-infant” pattern we contact in no distant part.
Ants move big objects by love in which they engulf
their stands to evolve as unstoppable giant bound in love.
You can never gleam enough, the wisdom involved
in synergy of no bluff enshrouded in this love glove.
Isn’t it a wonder as ants wander in no asunder?
They match from border to border by no commanding order.
Yet we, the stronger, cannot foster such to correct our blunder
and start to bother about the welfare of our brother.
Let us share love in fear of God.
Brotherhood wares are the wears we all got,
for we bear the undiluted cheers in our brother’s guts.
If ant could share great love in its size, we should spread it in full glut.
Copyright © Olusegun Sotade | Year Posted 2022
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Olusegun Sotade Poem
A gorgeously dressed “tears” in unknown fears.
How dare you abseil my cheek-beards
in horror of cheers my rictus is smothered to share?
It is clear to glare how bitter your wares are.
You declare your flair through my inability to bear
the office rent-fee arrears to slay my business career.
Thus emerged the first bitter tears as my ego disappears
through the snare of the unknown fears.
Heavy are the steps I bear to climb an up-linked stairs
in company of a stare that is bleary to focus my glare.
You spare not to care about my welfare
as you pierce the spear through to my heart’s rear.
As if that is not enough to care for a beer,
you wear me out as my younger brother questions my plan-to-succeed affair.
There came the second bitter tears but not for what he stirred.
Instead, the tears were meant for the scare
of the inventions I stirred but yet materialized to fare
my transportation to the next-level stair in care
of celebration galore secured by beers in company of my peers.
New life to appear while the old disappears.
One of my rare inventions is “Noveldram” which cheers, through research, will modernize genre of literature for reading care.
The second is “The Billionaire Decoder” in its dearest care to stir your inner worth through “PEIM” as Poem and Econs, Inspiration and Math. Econs pairs.
Don’t you know I shed bitter tears to have a clear vision to share in the chair of my glorious cheers?
My failure is to stir success-wares for its true worth to be stared across the places the failed story was shared.
Copyright © Olusegun Sotade | Year Posted 2022
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Olusegun Sotade Poem
The past is not deprived of its events
resting in the bosom of bygone valley,
carved in rigid love craftily decent
like the gulp graciously landing at sea port of belly.
While the future eludes not the belle
with whom it has had memoir in hallucination
of seducing hands, tender in caressing its belly
for commensurate rewards in anticipation.
Meanwhile, I’m like a hand of time
progressively sitting in the middle
of the counted and uncounted mines.
Maverick confronted with seasoned dribble.
When will I stop my heels from accelerating in cycle?
The weary marathon is recycled
such that it leaves considerable intervals yet to be circled,
even though I always thread forward in retrogressive circle.
No counting is of the old
till I grow old in the cold.
Shrouded in a coat as I repeatedly quote
‘Who Am I?’
Copyright © Olusegun Sotade | Year Posted 2022
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Olusegun Sotade Poem
From the era of troglodyte
to the evolved world of civilization.
The closer the life void of neophyte,
the farther apart should we be to condemnation.
Why is it that reverse is the case
as we race our intelligence quotient in haste
to daze the ignorance at the base
by God’s grace to evolve the world we now harnessed?
Every solved problem generates another.
Chaos – Coast to coast and border to border.
Problem upon problem is all we ponder.
Phagocyte of harum-sacrum acts pervade world’s three-quarter.
Carbon monoxide from cars contaminates ozone.
Human becomes prey for guns at war zone.
Preserved intakes cause carcinogenic issues.
Tears stirred by civilization could not be held in paper-tissues.
Serendipity in recycled severity
that characterizes the civility in gruesome tenacity
is a fruitless creativity in its best ability
to form vicinity with advanced social amenities.
Valueless is the invention that kills the purpose for which it was created.
I do not say we should stop being creative but be upgraded
in direction where bereaved is ceased to be the result we derived
from invention meant to ensure a better life.
Copyright © Olusegun Sotade | Year Posted 2022
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Olusegun Sotade Poem
Just like a germinating node,
so are the childishly preened pudenda load.
Ecstasy in fluffs of dew are bestowed
as croissants for neonate are getting bold.
Silky gazelle of a nymphet endowed with
sacra enshrouded in rotund paunch.
Void of fangs and mouth befitting are the teeth
of the edifice in humanoid with no grouch.
The seed of yesterday grown into belle
with dribbling tactics like that of Pele.
Flaunting is the resolved fate
of the sacred supplements to beckon dates.
Beauty turns a bristly cave to hot zone.
Porously damaged by the bruises of intruders than ozone.
Countless are the palms that perched on bristols.
Maw sleazily sips syllabub of bullets from pistols.
The sacrosanct abode is completely looted.
Detritus is what left in meretricious package for the prudent
who services in honour of the temple,
even though he is deprived of sacred virtue.
No sooner did she coruscate
than bean cake burst into hot palm oil.
The past becomes a hunter of the present,
so once valued lifestyle turns to toy.
Seductive lustre of her face turns to squeezed monster
by the harvest of sacrilegious treats
deliquesced to sweep away the sacred grace offered
as a companion and visa to yonder.
Bedridden attire inextricably adorns the body of a raver.
Cosmetically pimped face is decked with burnt patches.
Pimps desert their client in company of debilitated beavers.
Sacred virtue that breeds grace is not found to save its owner.
Copyright © Olusegun Sotade | Year Posted 2022
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