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At the mirror Post-NYSC

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Another set of ‘wishing you a favorable market’ are being lined up again, lined up to receive an authenticated government- approved hustle milestone slip in word of ‘certificate’. This draws my attention to a quote ‘government approved labourer’. Record shows that, no fewer than four hundred thousand graduates participate in the NYSC scheme annually varying from both public and privately owned Universities in Nigeria and some approved recognized certificates outside the country. With the stream in batches of A, B and C, one can deduced that each batch pass out coherently on due dates base on the stream of entry. Batch A commences from March to May, batch B from July to September and batch C from November to December, each having a calendar year. Now to the question that lingers in out “what is the employability rate of the Nation?” With record of no fewer than four hundred thousand graduates being released annually from NYSC to the labour market, what is their fate? Are they welcome in...
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The emptiness of Grief

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I look at the man who digs up the grave of others for a living and wonder, what does he thinks of it? I stare at the guard who have his sit in the midst of the cemetery and I dense, if he really keeps a guard. To the morgue attendant, who bathe the dead can you really cleanse the dead? Or how makest clean that which can't be cleanse. Emptiness, emptiness and grief is all I see, the emptiness grief leaves behind.  For the man who digs the grave, it's the grief. the grief that he feels at every shovel he shoves so to survive.  And to the guard at his post, it's the emptiness. the emptiness from the lengthy stranded hours of quietness at the place of the dead he roams day and night unending.  Grief! Grief! Oh grief! The emptiness you leave in the heart of the bereaved. They try to diminish a little, if they could at least bathe their dead, but the serviceman could not really cleanse the dead. The emptiness grief leaves behind.  
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Fadedness

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  Our Fadedness How did we get here? We were left to our thought emotions and distant view We forgot, oh we easily forgot us, the "we use to be” We were liberal to choice, but our liberty was made an exchange to forgetfulness. a little less to talk, eyebrow dazzling no fondly connections, heart beats and blood, strays and shy away, shifting, sniffing and bold face. Lol to our decadence.   Hmm… it was you; it was me; it was us That let stray away, Our little of less I care and ego, made an open wound bleed. GG! You’ve stayed off, you became a long man, We’re almost gyrating to silence long quietness, How did we get here?   I remember our days, You remember us, We’re not couples, we are fondly friends too bait our prey don’t escape our net unison in anthem of anchor, where the league of plans works, Don’t take the pill, we don’t cure by grief let us let go till we are let in, the place we can now lay a foundation, to the newest fr...
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A man with Story

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This is my story    I saw a man, somewhere downtown the hill doloroza, As I sighted him, he raises his brawl and it attracted my instinct. I took few steps towards him and I stoop, squat for he's a man who have a story. He said to me, "boy! do you know me?" I replied, " I can only know you through your untold stories ". He gazed, I sensed he was convinced and won by my reply. Dusting up his head, wrapped with thorns and trying to weave his garment around his body razed by stripes, he said "sit",  and all he could offer me to sit was a stone in the garden of Gethsemane. Again, he said, "take my hands", taking his hands became a switch of time, We journeyed in trance, to stone age where their highway was dust and chariots and their courtrooms with Sanhedrin’s and Caesar was the Paramount one. Now hear my story if it will inspire you, he said.   "I am a king born in a stable, whose blanket was raffia and my jingle ...
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Beyond the Outright

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Beyond our outright Looks I see, see them in their simulator accord and bucket shoes, all flashy hair, looks, ambiance, faces and steps doming fearlessly as they walk shoulders fitting in cullers, picking each move in less caution, We're all beautiful as we appear. How beautiful we look in our clothed ambiance a display for what they see and applaud but in the sleeves lives our fears, doubts, fallouts, defeats and worn. I see, see them in nothing, the deceit, the shadows we display. Powder, dust of pancakes, lips in lipsticks, shady hairs and shady bucks in outlandish awe, don't go overripe tomatoes and dench strawberry  it won't outgrow your winks,  we are pissed, all quack in our showglassy appearance  Oh man of few days, we are Job You can't outrun your troubles and tumbles.. but I espouse your courage, Your courage behind the mask of makeup and risen fitted cullers, You still wake up each day knowing your fears bringing procreating multiplying forces in babies of ma...
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The one who gets older

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Hey man, climb high and soar today, you're nothing less than a man You've exchanged stay for growth, to appreciation life than earth. You woke up and smile to the world to have live breathe in and out It's nothing less severe as a consequence we live today to live another. You turn a year close to grave, You added a cubit to responsible, a little frown to the day you were born still wondering why you cried first day, But haven journeyed, what do you see Oh man born of a woman what can you tell. Little but more has been the adventure I appreciate life I have tasted, It is sweet to know the taste of victory and defeat, I haven't gotten it all sweet to purge from sweetening, neither have I blat from the bitters of wormwood. Aging is a gift, utilizing it is a prospect unlimited in what we can achieve mere contributions to the subject of our existence. Happy birthday the boy who yield older, in quietness of your room you' sat and reflect there was no gymnasium in the who...
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Romans VII

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  It is an open cathedral; it never goes shut six days and six days after matching all on, on the seventh day the young and the old, men and chin, women and hips the small in child with a noticeable appearance of cunt each steps in accordance of uniformity one mindset, two legs in groups of thousands.   Everyone was in haste on their hills some in haste for the front, some for the best view few to meet up in place for attendance everyone with a desire to execute plans, there seems to be a place that suit each desire   know the heart of man, all in the similitude of minds there’s rows and lines, there be columns arranged in styles of standard a place of beauty, an edifice to behold making every mans clustered heart in assembles of unison A boding symbol of Omen in oven.   To dwell in with people of hallway and massive compromise, The way they’re suited and sited in their all woven clothes, Its spills deceit in convenience of t...
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