ANOTHER DRY SEASON.

The blistering breath
of a desperate death.
A slain season;
we all know the reason.

A life, long lost...
disappearing dust.
Oblivion as a grave;
no one can save.

The rain is gone.
The waters are done.
Time is a murderer;
the blades of a butcher.

Impotent clouds;
sterile skies, no doubt.
Earth seems dehydrated...
a season, outdated.

Disappearance of the rains.
We're left with thirsty drains.
Dryness drastically drags.
The dry season can now brag.

Lanre badmus
November 2017

Comments

FACULTY OF THE MIND

By Jeremiah JOSHUA Deep darkness invades the mind, as thoughts of evil walks its hall way, giving impulses of feelings, lustful ones claiming to give peace. Strong and strange desires craving for what looks like the unknown. giving suggestions to the faculty on how to deplete and decrease our spiritual GP of righteousness. Trying to do good was the intent, but seeing a rival in our senses. haven't clearly seen and read this lines from the book that gives wisdom that this courses are not to be taken in this great citadel, the MIND. But consciously and unconsciously we see them sneaking and stripping into our classroom to be masticated and acted upon. Slowly breaking down our tower piece by piece and leaving the faculty in ruins and not in peace . The infallible and irrefutable words we have once read from the book of wisdom is all we have left to stand against and battle this evil encroaching the terrains of our faculty. To yield to the great pers...

BED AS A SLAUGHTER SLAB.

Another sinister stab... a bed as a slaughter slab. A branch broken down; death with a fierce frown. Another drunk knife. An assailant of a wife. Neglected role of a mother. Now a brutal butcher. Body riddled by holes... sadness slays our souls. Another gruesome death; candles about to melt. Fear in the camp of men... a callous campaign by women. How many more men will fall? Devilish handwriting on the wall. No more dreams in our sleeps. Our slumbers are no longer deep. A death devoid of bliss; we still pray you rest in peace. Lanre badmus November 2017

SWEET MIRACLE

By Favour Okere Sweet Miracle, I am writing this beside your grave. I can’t do this at home because all the show of pity and sympathy is almost choking me. Indeed, most humans are hypocrites. Yesterday, I watched some of them shed genuine tears whilst others wept like crocodiles. Remember Mama Ejima, the woman that said you were an imbecile because I had used you for money rituals, she was one of the weeping crocodiles. I can swear I had heard her laughter ringing in the compound some minutes before she came in, wearing a ridiculous long face and cursing death atop her voice. They expected me to wail too, and curse death for snatching you but I didn’t. I smiled instead. You should have seen the bemused expression on their faces. They all think I’m going mad but I won’t stop smiling. Your life should be celebrated, not mourned. Baby, I will never forget the beautiful moments we shared; even though the ugly ones still remain entrenched in my memory. Like when your teacher calle...

Bliss resort

Search This Blog