Skip to main content

HUGS WITH THORNS






By Lanre badmus


Writing on a wall...
a fact that cannot fall.
If all smiles were real,
tears wouldn't need to heal.

Fake friends in heaps;
dissatisfaction desperately deep.
Lies live in their laughter.
With them, doom is faster.

A hurtful handshake
that makes the heart quake.
Poison behind a long kiss;
the evaporation of bliss.

They don't appear with horns
but their hugs are made of thorns.
Deceit armed with pure passion...
sorrow of several rations.

Bodies beneath beards...
coverings that must be feared.
Smiles simply not real;
tears will need to heal.

March 2018

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

A LETTER TO YOU To you who just wanna throw in the towel and probably end your life already, cause it feels like the weight of 4 planets lay comfortably on your shoulders and your happiness just lasts only as long as a good haircut. To you who has lost the spark to all you hold dear. The passion you once used to feel juggle in your belly just suddenly disappeared. To you who has this excruciating pain (in your body, soul. Every single where, it hurts bad)  that won't just go away. To you who doesn't know yourself. You don't even love yourself first first. You wear the mask every single time so that it's caused bruises on your face. Sores. Scars. You have eroded You. To you who feels getting from where you are to wanna be is a very long thing. To you who don't even know how and what to feel. To you fighting battles. Though ones, you can't deal no more. You have this ugly past that brings plenty voices in your head. You can't tell no one. . ....

WHY DO TEARS FOREVER FLOW?

By Ola Vincent Omotade As I lay on my bed this morning, with sunlight streaming through the window, a gentle breeze blew the flimsy white curtain and I saw the sky turn blue.. OH! its a new day I said. Just as I took a step to go get my pink hard smoker's brush and a Dabur-herbal toothpaste to spray on my brush, I heard someone crying in terribleness. I was weak in my spirit and all I did was to rest on my cushion, threw the brush on my carved mahogany bench and these were words that interfered with my heart. I realized coming to this earth, newly birth nothing in my hand I bring. simply naked to the earth I come, looking for dress in tearsa Oh for us We came hale and hearty, But yet tears trooped out from our eyes, the little helpless baby. Looking for ways to support living, we sow in tears but at times reap in joy, not always every time though. Going through the nooks and crannies of pains in craft works, handiworks and education (disciplined with tear...

WISH HE KNEW

By Jason Abbaly Everyone has a dream, every dream has a message, and that message gives hope. Now that’s the good part. But then, some people have good dreams, while others have nightmares. Believe me, there is nothing good about nightmares.  We live in a time where everyone hopes for something. Some get it, while others just don’t. For Billy, life was a good dream. Billy was a young, cute and good looking male goat.  He was so energetic and fun to be with. Had a lovely “bleat” sound he made every time which drove the female goats all crazy. He also had a well-trimmed goatee that gave him this sexy look.  There was no doubt that Billy was well taken care of. But, the big question was, for what? Hold unto that thought. Billy had an owner Mr. Badmus AKA the bad man. People called him that because, when it comes to butchering of animals, he was the perfect man for the job. He was also into rearing and selling of goats. He had a little daughter Cecilia. She loved he...